Korgi Vol. 1
Top Shelf Productions
Every pet-owner seems to develop a pet prejudice, becoming convinced that their particular sort is practically human, or at least the single most interesting animal there is. Writers can be the worst offenders of this, writing whole series of mystery novels about how their cats are actually great detectives or their noble coonhounds can take mountain lions in a fight.
For Christian Slade, who lives with two Welsh corgis that apparently make for fine art reference, that impulse has lead to Korgi (with a K), a charming all-ages adventure story.
Korgi is completely wordless, save the foreword that sets the stage, and told exclusively through the colorless, sketchy art, made up of soft gray lines rather than the usual harsh blacks.
It’s set in a world full of fantasy monsters, specifically in the forest home of “the mollies,” who seem to be normal human peasants who live side by side with a breed of giant, horse-sized Korgis (and yes, it’s just as darling as it sounds) and smaller, corgi-sized Korgis.
We follow one such regular-sized one and his mollie companion as they stumble upon monsters who want to eat them, escaping only by the surprise utilization of some unusual abilities usually associated with other fantasy creatures.
Thunderhead Underground Falls
Alternative Comics
Joel Orff’s latest graphic novel packs an emotional wallop that hits like a thunderbolt, a fact belied by the delicately rendered, highly abstracted art and the light touch with which Orff tells his sharply observed story.
Two close friends spend their last few days together before their relationship changes forever. One of them is about to be shipped off to fight in the Middle East, a decision he made before becoming close to his nameless female friend who doesn’t want him to go. Prompted by the knowledge that his experience there—the things he’ll see, the things he’ll do—will likely change him, he realizes that the everyday details he experiences now won’t be the same the next time he sees them. He considers deserting, but wouldn’t that too change him forever as well?
It’s this realization that leads to a sort of heightened awareness for the characters, a state wherein everything seems special to the point of magical, both completely unreal and super-real at the same time.
It’s a singular reading experience, welcome in its beauty and poignancy, and yet something of a relief to finish, and realize it’s just drawings on a page that are going through this little crucible of emotion, and you’re personally exempt.
Repo No. 1
Image Comics
Rick Spears and Rob G., the creative team behind the brilliant (and badly underrated) coming-of-age comedy Teenagers From Mars, turn their attention from the present-day suburbs to the Blade Runner-looking urban future. It’s a future that will look awfully familiar to anyone who’s gone to the movies or read any science fiction in the last, oh, 30 years or so, but that’s kind of the point, as they allude to in their prose introduction: “This is the future they promised us—hover cars, jet packs, hotels on the moon—but they neglected to inform us that it all came with a heavy f--king price tag. If you can’t pay the bill, repo agents ... are empowered to kill your buzz and repossess the party.”
These agents work on the fringes of the law, kinda like bounty hunters for the flying car you can’t keep up on the payments for, or the unauthorized clone you had no business creating. In story terms, that pretty much translates directly into buddy-cop stereotypes, as we follow cocky white rookie Emil and older, saltier vet K.D. Of course, we know that they and the world they live in are stereotypes, the creators know they’re trading in stereotypes, and the characters themselves recognize and acknowledge how stereotypical it all is, which gives Spears and G. a pass, allowing us to enjoy a funny street-smart comic book that seems to have been conceived as Lethal Weapon set in the world of Akira.