The Four Color Media Monitor

Last month, the Village Voice published a few reviews of graphic novels built on the kind of leftist cliches that have gotten pretty tiresome already, and even villify religion. And the first one appears to be written by somebody who once worked at the now defunct Comics Alliance website over a decade ago:

The first book on the docket is Hey, Mary! (Oni Press, $17.99), by writer Andrew Wheeler and artist Rye Hickman. Part coming-out story, part history lesson, with an emphasis on religious studies, Hey, Mary! focuses on Mark, a high school student at a Catholic academy who’s struggling with feelings of same-sex attraction, including toward his friend Luka — who’s out, proud, and soon transferring to another school. Unlike Luka (and most of their classmates), Mark is genuinely devout, taking Catholic scripture and teachings seriously. But is what he’s being taught the whole story? That’s the question Wheeler and Hickman seek to address.

Mark’s conflicted desires manifest themselves in fantasy. A Renaissance painting of hottie martyr Saint Sebastian comes to life in a museum and talks to him, direct as an arrow: “I’ve seen that look on your face before,” he says. “Awakening.” Later, at a family dinner with the parish’s new priest, Mark imagines a debonair devil whispering a sinister counterpoint into his ear: “You must keep yourself a secret. Never act on your sin. Never think on it. Or you will be mine.”

Are these fantasies temptations, or do they point to a deeper truth? What follows are a series of private conversations — sometimes fantasias with historical figures from the museum or the library, sometimes with trusted flesh-and-blood confidantes — as Mark tries to reconcile his sexuality with his faith.

Unlike many kids in his situation, Mark has all the tools he needs to work things out. While the church casts a large and foreboding shadow over his life, Mark’s community is diverse and vibrant. He connects with Jojo, a nonbinary drag performer who is comfortable with their sexuality but is trying to reengage with Catholicism after years away from the church. Jojo has the same problem as Mark, but is approaching it from a different angle. The new priest is able to give Mark guidance as well, showing a side of the church that wants to be as welcoming as possible. (We don’t hear much from another, older priest, but his glower reminds us that holy water doesn’t offer completely smooth sailing.)

When it gets to the point where "non-binary" propaganda is injected into the mess, you know something's wrong. And they even thought to clog in drag performances, as if things couldn't get bad enough:

Ultimately, the goal of the book is pedagogical. As Mark wrestles with his faith, he keeps encountering examples of LGBTQ+ saints and other historical figures: at the library, where Joan of Arc introduces him to St. Francis of Assisi (whom she describes as “the first drag mother”) and lesbian nun Hildegard of Bingen, and at queer readings of certain Bible stories, thanks to a workshop of Jojo’s drag production “Twisted Scriptures.” And while Wheeler’s script sometimes veers into a queer travelogue through religious history, Hickman’s open layouts and pleasing linework make the trip breezy, heartfelt, and fun. The colors, by Hank Jones, are well-calibrated to complete the picture, at times marking a sequence as pure fantasy or flashback but at other times keeping the palette realistic, allowing impossible conversations (say, with Joan of Arc) to land with the weight of reality. And the book never sells short the emotional pain Mark is going through in feeling his shame and keeping his secret. If the answers seem a touch pat, that can be chalked up to the story being aimed at a younger audience, who might benefit from a little certainty.

And this book could certainly reach a secondary audience as well. It’s easy to imagine a queer teen handing this to a religious family member who could use a little education on how an LGBTQ+ identity can coexist harmoniously with their faith.

Translation: this is a leftist lecture to Christian adherents what to think or believe. No doubt, it's a leftist lecture to Judaists as well. But, why aren't religious allowed to explain to LGBT adherents why there are important advantages in learning how to best relate to the opposite sex, and why is it okay to insult and demean women with drag performances? No doubt, none of this is explained in the GN. And it's not the only embarrassment being "reviewed" here. There's also another GN written by the insufferable Tom King, titled Animal Pound:

Tom King and Peter Gross provide a new take on a familiar library book with Animal Pound (BOOM! Studios, $29.99), a modern reimagining of George Orwell’s 1945 satire, Animal Farm. King and Gross change the setting of the animal revolution from a rural farm to a pound in the suburbs, which, among other things, changes the kinds of animals involved. In Orwell’s story, the lead characters were pigs, horses, and a variety of other farm animals. Animal Pound’s menagerie is divided into three factions: dogs, cats, and rabbits, who join forces to unlock their cages and drive the humans from the facility. And the “Seven Commandments of Animalism” from Orwell’s book are boiled down into one golden rule, painted on the pound wall: THE DOORS WILL REMAIN OPEN. [...]

Of course, there’s the matter of who’s in charge. The pound animals are interested in democracy, and they need the dogs to take part in the government — they’re the biggest and strongest, after all. But the canines are canny enough to realize that they’ll never have enough votes on their own to elect a dog leader. The solution is a compromise that takes the name of the book literally. “The cats are more numerous. The dogs are larger,” says Fifi, the cats’ leader, explaining the idea. “What will make us equal is pounds and ounces.” The animals literally begin weighting their votes: The heavier the animal, the more their vote is worth. The dogs, in their bulk, achieve electoral parity with the cats, and the rabbits have the power to sway the election as a tiebreaker. It’s a delicate system, and the flaws soon reveal themselves. (Gruesomely, in some cases.)

King’s script is a knowing tragedy. It’s clear that nothing will end well for these animals, despite their initial aspirations of equality and self-governance. But it’s Gross and colorist Tamra Bonvillain who perform the true magic trick of the book. Orwell wrote in prose, and didn’t have to clear the hurdle of visually depicting creatures who are still recognizable as animals but are somehow able to paint a barn wall or build a windmill. Yet Gross and Bonvillain manage to show the animals painting, voting, using video equipment, and opening locks all without distorting any creature in order to get the job done. Cats, bunnies, and dogs of all breeds roam freely, but none of them ventures anywhere near the uncanny valley.

Nothing ends well in any of King's mainstream work, for all the wrong reasons, so there's no point in assuming it'll be any better in this item. Most likely, it's an attack on Republicans to boot, and King seems so obsessed with all that is sad, it's no wonder there's nothing inspirational about his writings. The Village Voice has proven once again with this article why they're one of the worst weekly papers around, and even the independent comics scene is clearly suffering from all the wrong kind of ideas and writers.

Labels: golden calf of LGBT, indie publishers, misogyny and racism, moonbat artists, moonbat writers, msm propaganda, politics