Rusty Brown

Rusty Brown by Chris Ware (2019), 356 pgs. 

Loneliness. Sadness. Snow.
Rusty Brown, our titular character, is a young boy attempting to escape his isolation and bullying through his love of superheroes--namely Supergirl. Other characters we see facing their own struggles with belonging include Woody Brown, Rusty's father; Joanna Cole, Rusty's teacher; Chalky White and his sister Alison, the new kids at Rusty's school; and Jordan "Jason" Lint, Rusty's bully. This graphic novel is defined by its particular art style and dark themes.

I have some mixed feelings about this book. First, it can be hard to read--both literally and emotionally. As someone who has not read many graphic novels, the changing organization and small segments often left me a bit confused as to which panel to read next. Then, the themes are very heavy throughout the narrative, with little positive reprieve for the reader. The majority of this book oozes toxic masculinity--purposefully--and at times it is hard to tell if the author is attempting to justify the characters' views or simply presenting why they are the way they are. It is certainly an empathetic story, but I found it frustrating being forced to consider the world through a misogynistic lens. Perhaps, though, that is the point.
The last story, however, is markedly different. In it, we learn more about Joanna Cole, Rusty's teacher, who deals with isolation and racism as a Black teacher in a mostly white school. After such deep, specific dives into the psyches of previous white, male characters, it felt like Joanna's section was missing a certain depth. It seemed like the author gave Joanna certain personality traits, but he still didn't have as strong of a sense of her full personality, and after the deeply intense dives into previous characters, it fell a bit flat.
On the positive end, though, there are some really beautiful pages and panels, and the stories evoke some very powerful emotions. I have definitely thought a lot about this book since finishing it, and it is very highly critically reviewed. 

Iron Widow

Iron Widow by Xiran Jay Zhao (2021) 394 pages

This is the beginning of a relatively new series. I listened to the audiobook narrated by Rong Fu on Libby. Part Mighty Morphin Power Rangers kaiju adventure and part feminist revenge tale. The story is set in the future, but cultural values and some characters were pulled from Chinese history, according to the author. This leans more toward fantasy than science fiction with Chi energy powering soldiers' armor and the mecha Chrysalises like the vermilion bird pictured on the cover. Zetian is a powerful teen pilot who gains the nickname the Iron Widow. She is unstoppable in fighting the misogyny in her culture in addition to the alien insectoid "invaders" that the government sends the soldiers to eliminate.
 

Goldilocks

Goldilocks by Laura Lam, 340 pages

In the near future, Earth is nearly uninhabitable, thanks to a booming population, a decimated environment, and an ever-widening gap between the rich and the poor. Spurred by the misogynistic policies of the world's space agencies, five female astronomers steal a space ship that was meant to carry a crew of male astronomers to Cavendish, a planet that is not too hot, not too cold, and just right for human habitation. Led by genius inventor and philanthropist Valerie Black, the women of the Atalanta are excited to be traveling to the planet they've dreamed about for so long. But when problems start occurring on the ship, the crew (and particularly Valerie's protegee, Naomi Lovelace) are concerned that Valerie is keeping something from them.

This is a thrilling tale that seamlessly weaves together the misogyny of The Handmaid's Tale, the corruption of The Power, and the action sequences of more interstellar travel books than I can list here. It's captivating, beautifully presented, and leaves plenty of space for further ruminations after the final page. I loved it, and I highly recommend it.

Milkman

Milkman: a Novel / Anna Burns, 352 p.

Middle sister, 18 years old,  lives in an unnamed country.  She reads 19th century literature while walking around her unnamed town, using a flashlight if necessary.  She is stalked by a 41 year old man, a high-ranking renouncer of the state; that is to say, a violent paramilitary.  This stalking causes problems in her relationship with maybe-boyfriend, whose life may now be in danger as a result.

What a book.  So very, very brilliant.  But so very, very difficult, perhaps unnecessarily.  And there's the rub.  The anonymity - no names, no place-names, no specific designators of any kind - is terrific.  Of course, this is the Troubles, Belfast in the 1970s.  Middle sister and her family, and the stalker Milkman, too, are obviously the Catholics, though that's never stated.  And it's wonderful because it works.  The Troubles could be lots of places where violence simmers and occasionally breaks out, where an entire group is scapegoated, where no one can trust anyone, and where the wrong word to the wrong person can have dire consequences.  But reading a narrative scrubbed of specificity in this way is awkward and laborious.  The reader is taxed from the outset; add in middle sister's inside-out syntax, manic digressions, chronological lurches, and the (necessary) local colloquialisms, and it's a relief to be finished. 

Yes, I'm relieved.  But perhaps because of the effort involved, I also won't forget Milkman anytime soon.