Reilly Hadden's Fellas

One of Reilly Hadden's long-term projects as an artist is examining masculinity. Even in Astral Birth Canal, which featured fantasy scenarios, one of the central relationships was that of a father and his son. In his Krikkit comics, the titular character gently explores his environment and his relationships. In his new mini Fellas, he explores masculinity and brotherly love between two professional wrestlers. The comic's dialogue is taken verbatim from a video clip taken after a huge match.

The wrestlers in question are Sheamus, the Celtic Warrior, and Cesaro, the Swiss Superman. In storyline, they were once bitter enemies who were forced to become a tag team called The Bar ("We don't set the bar...we are the Bar!") who became one of the WWE's greatest tag teams. At a certain point, the team was split up. It's important to note that in storyline, they were ruthless heels (bad guys); in essence, the epitome of toxic masculinity. 

The comic picks up after Sheamus lost to his former best friend Drew McIntyre in a fantastic, hard-hitting match. Wrestling is a hybrid of combat sports, improv, theater, burlesque, and a variety of other carny arts, designed to create a powerful emotional response through a visceral narrative. In the comic, Sheamus sees his old friend Cesaro after this nearly overwhelming experience with this match and breaks down crying. In the video, it was a beautiful moment of vulnerability and intimacy between two friends. Hadden heightens this emotion through an art style that emphasizes the sheer, sweaty physicality of the two men. 

The magic of wrestling is that kayfabe (keeping true to the narrative) is a marvelous confluence of honest feelings and an exaggerated story. Sheamus and Cesaro knew they were being filmed, but the constancy of the performance (in and out of the ring) simply fell away in that moment. The camera no longer mattered. It was two friends who understood what had just happened on a deep level that outsiders couldn't really comprehend. It was two friends who had shared months on the road who were put on different shows, sharing that moment and expressing their love and grief related to their separation. It's a moment of incredible tenderness, of words being expressed through tears and Cesaro's words of praise for the match meaning everything. Their characters are caricatures,expressed loudly and simply enough so that a fan in the book row can understand what's going on. However, the men, the performers are real. It's the thrill and the stress and anxiety of being a particular kind of performer, and only a man who had become your chosen family truly understanding. Hadden captures all of this beautifully, with the sheer size and muscular physique of the two men emphasizing, rather than belying, their physical and emotional intimacy. If these two powerhouses can allow themselves this kind of emotional openness, why can't all men relate to each other in this way?

Whit Taylor's Montana Diary

I've been following Whit Taylor's career for quite a long time. With Montana Diary (Silver Sprocket), she's published her finest work to date. Taylor has always been a thoughtful and intelligent writer, but there's a remarkable sense of confidence not just in the way she wrote about the frequently-horrific background of this memoir about a vacation to Montana with her husband, but in the way she drew it. It's exciting to see a cartoonist put it all together, and that's the case with this comic. 

In terms of format, it's not necessarily anything new. She's done this kind of historical/geographical exploration before. Whit's always been a thoughtful and restrained writer, offering perspective and wisdom with regard to her historical and cultural observations. She's also never been terribly didactic in her conclusions, allowing the reader to make up their own minds. While all of that was true here as well, there's a kind of funny swagger she displays, an almost unhinged and bizarre sense of humor that makes her the clear comedic focus of the comic. It pushes her husband as the straight man. However, even that narrative falls short of what's really going on. As a Black woman, it feels as though her presence in the whitest of states puts her into full-fledged survival mode, deferring to her husband and shrinking behind him in ways she never otherwise do. Taylor giddily engages with tourism even as she denounces the idea of not being American enough. She pointedly nails this narrative when her narrative caption calmly declares "I hate feeling like have to prove my Americanness. I'm descended from slaves, slave owners, and native peoples." The dialog she indignantly spouts off to her husband is "I am American as fuck."

Taylor goes in a lot of directions, but the main theme is how beauty and ugliness co-exist. Big Sky country was beautiful, but global warming is having an irrevocable impact on it, as one glacier will disappear in the next thirty years. A dive into the history of Lewis & Clark's expedition reveals exploitation and the virulently prevalent concept of Manifest Destiny. Even visiting the local native reservation reveals that the tribe was only left their land because the government didn't have any use for it. Taylor plays down her intellect and emphasizes how little she knows about history, which is a way of saying that few people in the country have a real sense of its history. Despite all of this, she acknowledges the hard truth that in America, the poison of its past and its persistence of its toxic structures is in direct opposition to its ideals, its beauty, and most importantly, its people. That said, this book isn't a screed; it's a vacation. It's funny time spent with her husband. It's hikes and meals and boat rides. Taylor balances all of these elements effortlessly.

Part of that is because her own persona here is so carefree and silly at times; in fact, there's almost an insistence on it despite her fear of white nationalists (and bears). There is no question that she was only able to sell this because her line was so expertly rendered. Taylor's line is clear and concise, as she leaned into her greatest skill: drawing expressions. Her tight talking-head focus was also a clever narrative technique, but she rewards the readers with a far greater range of expressions than usual in one of her autobio stories, with her husband a tight-lipped straight man. However, Taylor's clarity and skill in depicting her environment was absolutely essential in selling the rest of the story. Her line is not only clear, it's frequently beautiful in its simplicity in detailing forests, wildlife, and the people she meets. While her pages are full of detail, she avoids cluttering up her pages. In terms of layout, she used an open-page layout built on grid principles, providing both structure and freedom for her storytelling.  This story is in terms funny, personal, vulnerable, instructive, historical, and grim. Like John Porcellino, it's highly sophisticated and emotive storytelling that looks simplistic at first blush. However, there are hidden depths to be found in Montana Diary, rewarding multiple readings.