The Worst Person in the World (2021)

 
  

The Worst Person in the World

directed by Jocahim Trier

written by Eskil Vogt and Joachim Trier

MK2 Films

2021

 
 
Do other people ever experience their lives as settled? Do they ever know what they want, get it, and then just enjoy having it? I think one reason I like coming of age stories is because I have experienced my own life as a continuous 'becoming' with no arrival, as though what emerges from each cocoon is just another chrysalis, with no butterfly in sight. But sometimes I wonder if maybe that's just life, and though I worry that I'm alone in feeling that way, maybe everyone else has the same feeling, the same worry, and maybe they can't see the doubt in me any more than I can see it in them.

 

One reason I liked The Worst Person in the World is that it really spoke to my sense of unsettledness and indecision. Julie starts the film as a blonde medical student. She quits that, dumps her boyfriend, dyes her hair purple, enrolls in psychology, and immediately begins dating one of her professors. The she drops out, takes up photography, has a fling with a model, meets underground comix artist Aksel at a party, sleeps with him, falls in love, moves in, gets a job in a bookstore, and returns to her natural brunette. And my sisters in Christ, this is only the prologue. There are 12 chapters and an epilogue to go!

 

This is a movie about Julie wondering who she wants to be, what kind of person she wants to be, thinking she's decided, then changing her mind and trying again. I admire her courage and energy. She won't settle, even if that means she leads a restless life.

 

Aksel is in his mid 40s and ready to have kids. His career is beginning to blossom, with book signings for his newest releases, and a movie deal for an animated version of his most famous comic. (He's ambivalent about his illustrated alter-ego getting tamed for a kid's movie, but presumably the money is good.) Julie doesn't want kids yet, maybe not ever, still works at the bookstore, and abandons photography is favor of writing occasional opinion essays for online publications.

 

One night, Julie leaves one of Aksel's book signings early, crashes a wedding, and meets Eivind, who's her own age, and there alone. They're both determined not to cheat, but spend an incredibly intimate evening flirting. Among their not technically cheating activities - biting each other's arms, smelling their armpits, watching each other pee, and sharing secrets. Julie tells Eivind something she later puts in an article, but they otherwise leave knowing only their first names, with no way to find each other.

 

Aksel and Julie keep struggling. Eivind and his increasingly-environmentalist girlfriend struggle. Eivind and Julie meet again, and both decide to try again together. But this is still only about the halfway point, not a fairytale ending.

 

The narration and editing of this film reminded me lot of Amelie, although Worst Person is much more naturalistic, not nearly so stylized or whimsical. But when the narrator tells us what Julie's mother, grandmother, great-gran, great-great, etc were doing on their 30th birthdays, or when time stops as Julie runs across the city to kiss Eivind, or when Julie trips on mushrooms, the pace and style of the cuts as a storytelling device seemed quite similar, even if their content is different.

 

 

Originally watched January 2023. 

Witch Hat Atelier 10

 
Witch Hat Atelier 10

by Kamome Shirahama

Kodansha

2022

 

 

In the last volume of Witch Hat Atelier, the girls and their teachers went to the Silver Eye festival, where ordinary people can watch demonstrations of magic and buy magical contraptions, and where witches can show off for each other.
 
Now in volume 10, cool aloof girl Richeh sells all her crystal bracelets and discovers she really enjoys helping the old wandmaker operate his booth. She's kind of shocked herself by discovering something she genuinely wants to do, which is to open her own magic shop someday.
 
Cheerful Tetia sees someone sneaking around, hiding from the royal guards, and discovers it's the young prince, a boy about her age. She helps him get away and temporarily swaps accessories with him, wearing his expensive royal cloak while he dons her witch hat and capelet. Tetia is happy to declare the two of them friends, but the way he accepts her friendship suddenly makes her uncomfortable in a way she doesn't really understand. He announces that when he's king, she'll be beside him as a friend and advisor 'like in days of yore.'
 
Tetia doesn't know it, but we've seen the witches who use forbidden magic use that 'days of yore' phrase too - and what they mean is the time before the current age, when magic was widespread and wildly destructive, used as a tool of politics and warfare. Tetia also doesn't know that the king, who last volume seemed so respectful of witches' self-imposed rules, is secretly the last person in a very long line of witches who knows how to use healing magic, which is now forbidden because it affects human bodies directly. Presumably his son will learn it too. Master Qifrey does know this secret, and tells Agott and Coco, which will be relevant later.
 
Agott, the best student in the atelier, has an emotional breakdown because Qifrey and Olruggio won't let her march in the Silver Eye parade, which would be her chance to show off a spell. She was hoping to catch the attention of her distant mother, the librarian of the Great Tower, who she hasn't seen in years. Agott is semi-estranged from her family because despite her talent and hard work, they consider her some kind of disappointment. 
 
Qifrey explains that personal glory is the wrong reason to use magic, and also, he warns her that her mom wouldn't be the only one watching, and that there are people who's attention she doesn't want to attract. Then he tells her about the king, which makes Tetia's situation seem even more ominous. Qifrey also articulates a defense of unobtrusive, utilitarian magic that's maybe the clearest we've heard so far, and that could apply to almost any technology. He notes that softly glowing lanterns that never go dark are less impressive than giant serpents made of fire streaking across the sky; the ever-refilling water jugs people use to get clean drinking water aren't as showy as a perpetual typhoon pulling water from the clouds; but the lantern and the jug help far more people in far more consistent ways than the serpent or the storm ever could. It sounds a lot like a call to use technology to provide people with basic universal services.
 
Meanwhile, Coco and Tartah have some big problems that they're keeping secret. They met Custas, the boy who was injured when he fell in the river. Now he has magical wooden leg braces, and he seems to know forbidden magic. The young witch who taught it to him shows up too, dressed more-or-less like any other young witch instead of looking obviously evil like the others we've seen. (That's her on the cover. She could easily pass for a student witch.) She demands that Coco and Tartah get themselves into the Silver Eye parade, do something so impressive it gets them an audience with the king, and then allow Custas and this forbidden witch to join them and meet the king too. That's a big, maybe impossible request! I feel like there ought to be some kind of 'or else,' but it's not explicit. Coco agrees to try anyway. We also don't know exactly why they want to meet the king, although presumably the reason is not good.
 
After getting away from that, Coco and Tartah run into Custas's father Dagdah, who's looking for his son. We saw him get attacked by bandits, but he doesn't seem to remember that. Coco realizes there's a spell drawn on his chest, which is forbidden, and when she realizes what the spell is, it completely breaks her heart. It's a counter-clock spell that can be used to temporarily mend broken things ... but it's a short spell, and when it runs out, the thing breaks again just like before. Coco realizes Custas has been reapplying this spell several times a day to keep his father alive, and she knows that if she could've, she would've done the same for her mother after accidentally turning her to stone. 
 
In fact, Dagdah was killed by the bandits, and while he was dying, the forbidden witch showed up, drew the spell on him, and taught it to Custas. But Dagdah has only a half-life. He has no memories since just before the attack, and he keeps dying painfully each time the spell runs out while Custas is redrawing it. Knowing the king's secret, Coco wonders if he could heal Dagdah, and becomes even more committed to inventing a new spell in time for the parade. (Although it's not clear to me that the king would be willing to heal an traveling musician, even if he's able.)
 
A member of the Knights Moralis shows up and tries to arrest Dagdah, but Custas arrives and attacks him with the wooden tentacles of his leg braces. Coco and Tartah run away. Then the forbidden witch uses one of the Knights' own spells against him - erasing all memory of magic from his mind, which in this case means erasing almost all his memories altogether.
 
There's one really noticeable change to Shirahama's art in this volume. They style is the same, but there are a lot more large panels showing close-ups of people's emotions at key moments. I don't know if this is easier for her because it means fewer panels, or harder because they're more detailed, but it makes this volume look different than the ones before. She uses this new approach to pretty good effect though. There's not as much action this time, but there are several moments where someone feels a powerful or complex emotion that motivates their actions going forward, and seeing those moments enlarged both emphasizes the strength of what's being felt and makes it easier to see the nuance.

I think the parade's going to be in the next volume, and thus that several of these plots will come together dramatically. Coco may really, really want to march, but I don't know how she's going to be able to invent a new spell that's worthy, and convince Master Qifrey to let her. I'm pretty sure the parade is the next day, which doesn't seem like enough time. 

Author: The JT LeRoy Story (2016)

 
 

  

Author: The JT LeRoy Story

directed by Jeff Feuerzeig

written by Jeff Feuerzeig

A&E Indie Films 

2016

 

 
Author tells the JT Leroy story entirely from the perspective of Laura Albert, the woman responsible for the hoax. In addition to casting Albert as the sole narrator and allowing her to tell the story as she sees fit (despite, by her own admission, her history of telling self-serving lies, Albert's version of events goes unchallenged), the film also incorporates Albert's recordings of seemingly every phone call she made or received throughout the affair (including her very first call to a youth suicide prevention line), and scenes from a film Albert made in college where she put animated text and voice-over atop her family's home movies.

 

Author is almost physically painful at times, because of the discomfort you feel watching Albert casually admit to (perhaps even brag about) things where you feel like she should feel some kind of shame or embarrassment. I preferred the approach taken by The Wonderful, Horrible Life of Leni Riefenstahl, where at least the interviewer pushes back on her justifications. Riefenstahl isn't sorry in that either, but at least she's put on the defensive, and is practically just ranting by the end.

 

In brief, the early 2000s, aspiring author Laura Albert was calling various crisis help lines, pretending to be a suicidal teenage boy, (and, I feel the need to emphasize again, recording these calls) supposedly as a way to deal with her own childhood trauma from a safe distance. Albert picks one therapist she likes, and uses the persona she adopted for that call to start writing short stories.

 

She begins calling various authors using the name 'JT LeRoy' to ask for advice. Eventually one helps her get a publishing contract. She publishes a bestselling novel, a book of short stories, and another novel. The first book is optioned to be made into a movie. All this fiction tells the story of an abused little boy with AIDS whose highest aspiration is to be a desirable adult woman prostitute, and is intended to be read as thinly veiled autobiography.

 

Along the way, Albert develops both a cult following and a circle of celebrities who are fans of LeRoy. Needing a way to get 'JT LeRoy' to make public appearances, Albert recruits her boyfriend's little sister to play the part in public. This wasn't the first time she'ddone something like this, Albert casually explains - when she was a teen, she dressed her own little sister up as a punk, cut her hair and styled her outfits, and sent her out to participate in the local punk scene with instructions about who to talk to and what to say. I believe Albert when she says that she is an abuse victim; I also think she might be a sociopath.

 

Eventually the lie collapses, not because the teenage girl pretending to be JT LeRoy (even as Albert still handled all the phone calls) made any kind of public mistake, but solely because Albert was jealous of her own creation. She couldn't stand only being the puppetmaster behind the scenes, she wanted people to see her, pay attention to her, and praise her too. She first told Billy Corrigan, who kept quiet, and then grew increasingly indiscreet until reporters caught on.

 

Albert's two key complaints at the end are (1) she is furious that people call JT LeRoy a 'hoax,' because you see, she never intended to deceive anyone, the persona was to help herself heal, she wrote the novel by accident, she wasn't trying to get famous, etc. And (2) she's mad that anyone felt deceived or angry, and that she wasn't permitted to slip into the life of fame she built for JT LeRoy. She can't believe that all her celebrity friends turned on her just because everything they thought they knew was a lie! (Except Courtney Love, who gets repaid for her loyalty with Albert sharing an audio recording of Love doing a line of coke and offering to get Albert on an apology / rehabilitation tour starting with Oprah.)

 

One of the frustrating things about this film is that Albert consistently talks about JT LeRoy in the third person as a separate entity who acts independently of her. Sometimes it's clear when she says 'JT said this' that she means she said it while playing the role. But once the sister-in-law begins portraying LeRoy in public, it's sometimes impossible to tell. Does 'JT did that' mean Albert did it, the sister did it following Albert's instructions, or the sister did it of her own initiative? Albert doesn't say, and no one asks her to clarify.

 

So, Author is a thorough, nearly 2 hour account of the JT LeRoy farrago, and the filmmakers give Laura Albert enough rope to publicly hang herself, but it also suffers from being such an exercise in self-indulgence.

 

 

Originally watched December 2022.

The Assassination of Brangwain Spurge

 
 

The Assassination of Brangwain Spurge
by MT Anderson

art by Eugene Yelchin

Candlewick Press

2018

 

 

The Assassination of Brangwain Spurge is a YA or middle-grade fantasy novel that mixes art and text in exciting ways and has a surprisingly complex critique of the way that militaristic governments misuse history to justify their wars. I was drawn to the book by the whimsical title and cover art, and by a quick flip-through that revealed that parts of the book are told in wordless sequential art. If anything, I feared it would be too twee, but while there is a certain lightheartedness to the telling, the story itself is fully aware and fully critical of how governments sometimes kill civilians, more-or-less on a whim, and call it preemptive self-defense.
 

Assassination is told with three kinds of chapters that don't alternate in any kind of strict sequence, but only according to the needs of the story. The very first chapter in the book is visual; only later do we fully understand what we've seen. The visuals are in black and white and remind me of 19th century lithographs. Each illustration is a full page, but they tell a sequential story, like the panels in a comic. These chapters depict the perspective of Brangwain Spurge, an elven historian who is conscripted as a diplomat to be launched via catapult to the goblin kingdom to deliver a present to their ruler. Many of the book's action sequences are shown this way, to good effect. To Brangwain, everything in Goblinland is giant, hideous, terrifying. It's not immediately obvious, but these visuals are more subjective and unreliable than we might expect.
 
The next kind of chapter is told in close third-person from the perspective of Werfel, a goblin academic chosen by his government to act as Brangwain's host and guide to the capital city. Where Brangwain starts out seeming like a negative stereotype of academia, vain, persnickety, overly serious, closed off, incurious, Werfel seems like more of a well-educated bon vivant, welcoming and hospitable, someone who appreciates elvish culture but really wants to show off all the charming local traditions, which Brangwain inevitably finds horrible. You begin to understand that things might look exactly as Brangwain sees them, and yet be experienced as nice - as traditional, familiar, even comforting - by the goblins, despite offending elven (and perhaps our human) sense of aesthetics. The majority of the book is told this way, and Werfel's perspective is clearly the one we're expected to feel most sympathetic to, even if we might initially expect to prefer elves over goblins.
 
The final sort of chapter takes the form of correspondence, dispatches sent from an elvish spymaster to the king of Elfland. The spymaster's voice is like an evil Bertie Wooster; he's a foppish twit who's set this whole scenario up in a misguided attempt to assassinate the goblin leader, using Brangwain as a patsy, an unwitting accomplice who thinks he's just there to report back on goblin magical infrastructure. Things don't go according to the spymaster's plan, primarily because he gave Brangwain two incompatible tasks - to snoop around suspiciously and to be a completely trustworthy courier of the elven peace offering.
 
The first half of the book is a bit of a comedy of manners, as Werfel attempts to show off all the things he's proudest of, Brangwain gets appalled and turns up his nose at everything, Brangwain courts disaster by spying ineffectually, and the spymaster brags to the king about what's going to happen when the goblin ruler receives the booby-trapped elven gift. And meanwhile Werfel and Brangwain argue about the millennium-long history of truly brutal warfare between the two sides. In Brangwain's mind, it's all very proper and justified, but Werfel's very aware of how much and how badly goblin civilians have suffered, and of how often the elves have been the belligerents. The elves are not as good as they make themselves out to be, and the goblins are not nearly as evil. Every one of these plots is careening toward disaster from the start, and they all come to a head when Brangwain finally gets to meet the goblins' ruler.
 
After that, in the second half, Werfel and Brangwain finally, haltingly work their way toward a kind of mutual respect and friendship, the spymaster scrambles to perform some damage control with the furious elven king after the first plan went awry, and the two countries find themselves on the brink of another round of mutually destructive warfare. All those plots come together in the end too, in a way that's quite satisfying, and that favors a just peace over endless bloodletting and conflict. 

The Best American Comics 2018

 
The Best American Comics 2018

edited by Phoebe Gloeckner

Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

2018

 

 

The Best American Comics 2018 is the second-to-last volume in the series. I don't know why Houghton Mifflin decided to stop this series from their Best American line, although if they gave any reason in the press, I guess I should be able to find out. My tentative guess is that it was a casualty of the pandemic. Each volume so far has included a call for submissions, to be considered for two volumes into the future, and the call for BAC 2020 is in here.
 
Editor Phoebe Gloeckner decided against placing the comics into categories, and she's the first editor to organize the comics alphabetically by author's last name. I think there were fewer comics this time where I really couldn't tell why they were included, how anyone could think they were the best of anything, but I don't know if that means Gloeckner's taste is more similar to mine, or if I now find it easier to appreciate a wider range of comics. 
 
Both in her selections generally and in her choice of what to excerpt from longer works, Gloeckner seems to have an eye for comics that mix sex and nudity with ugliness and self-hatred. I think there might be more graphic memoirs in the mix this time, although they're always pretty common across BAC volumes. 
 
Childhood memories, often upsetting, are another recurring motif in the memoirs. We get an excerpt from Emil Ferris's My Favorite Thing is Monsters from right after her parents died; a truly traumatic childhood memory about pets dying from Gabrielle Bell, from whom we've seen more everyday life stuff up until now; and memoir blending with an architectural history of New York's children's spaces in Julia Jacquette's Playground of My Mind, which stands out for being about something pleasant. I really liked How to be Alive by Tara Booth and Ugly by Chloe Perkins, both of which had frank depictions of grappling with the artists' loathing of their own bodies and desires.
 
There's only a bit of non-memoirist graphic nonfiction, including Guy Delisle's Hostage, and a a couple different accounts of American and British involvement in the Middle East. I previously read Delisle's Factory Summers.

There are a number of familiar faces among the fictional comics, including Jaime Hernandez with a Love & Rockets excerpt, Simon Hanselmann with a Megg and Mogg comic, a shockingly bloody (and cartoony) excerpt from one of Ted Stearn's Fuzz and Pluck comics, and Jesse Jacobs with an even more overtly psychedelic offering than usual. My favorite was probably DJ Bryant's "Echoes into Eternity", which felt like a complete Twilight Zone story in 8 pages. 

The Lady Matador's Hotel

 
 
The Lady Matador's Hotel

by Cristina Garcia

Scribner

2010

 

 

I first noticed The Lady Matador's Hotel in grad school at the college bookstore because of its eye-catching cover, and I've kind of been meaning to read it ever since. One of the things I've been doing this year is trying to finally get around to reading things that've been on my list for forever. I'd long since forgotten whatever it was that drew me to the book, just a vague sense there was something there that intrigued me. I feel fortunate, because it's a much better than I had any reason to expect.
 

The Lady Matador's Hotel is quite structured, which immediately endears it to me. The book follows six main characters over the course of six days, from Sunday to Friday, plus an epilogue. The action is mostly contained in the Hotel Miraflor. Each chapter gives us one scene with each character over the course of one day, and each scene is labeled by the location it takes place, like the elevator, the patio restaurant, the lobby, the roof, specific rooms. The characters do have names, but Garcia usually refers to them by their occupation - the lawyer, the colonel, the waitress, the poet, the factory owner, and of course, the lady matador. The last section of each chapter is excerpts from the day's tv and radio news.
 
The characters pass each other by and occasionally intersect; the plot is like one of those movies with an ensemble cast where everyone's following their own storyline, the sort that were popular around the time Garcia wrote this. Because it takes place in a Spanish-speaking country (in this case, an unnamed Central American nation) and involves bullfighting, it reminds me of one of the first movies like that I ever saw, Carnages. I learned that in the intervening years, the book has been made into a play. On the one hand this makes sense, as Garcia has an eye for pairing dramatic moments and scenic locales; but on the other hand, an awful lot of what happens takes place inside the characters' heads, and the what action there is gains its meaning from those interior thoughts.
 
The book's cover depicts the very first scene, the lady matador admiring herself in the mirror before dressing in her costume. She's in town for a competition between matadoras, and to fight a few exhibition matches before the big event. She provides a throughline to the book. She's in the first scene and the last, in the news each day, and each of the other characters notices her and thinks about her, the celebrity in their midst. The lady matador thinks about her dead mother, contemplates her eventual retirement, psyches herself up with casual sex, preens around the hotel, and performs for an adoring press. We get to see a couple of her bullfights close-up.
 
The colonel is at Hotel Miraflor for a pan-Latin American military conference. He's a brutal man, a killer, a war criminal. The waitress is an ex-guerilla, a former leftist militant who thought she'd retired from conflict, until the man who killed her whole family, who drove her to revolution in the first place, shows up as a guest. The waitress spends the week trying to decide whether or not to assassinate the colonel, and being visited by the ghost of her brother. On the news, we see bombings nearby as other rebels attack the conference-goers at neighboring hotels.
 
The lawyer sells the infant children of local mothers to adoptive American parents. She calls the mothers she employs her 'breeders.' The national legislature is on the brink of passing a law banning international adoptions, but she's sure her political connections and her bribe money can keep her in business. The poet and his wife are here to adopt a baby. The poet is a Cuban exile, his wife an American, and being here is dredging up old feelings and new uncertainties.
 
The factory owner is a sadsack from Korean. He's depressed and suicidal. He feels endlessly sorry for himself. He's been losing money, his workers are striking, the press accuses him of underpaying and abusing his workers. His 16 year-old indigenous girlfriend is about to give birth, and she persuaded him to book them the honeymoon suite, which he can't afford, but he plans to be dead by the end of the week anyway. He doesn't seem to know or care what will happen to her if she's alone.
 
Several of these characters are unpleasant people, who have done and are still doing immoral things. The country is troubled, an ex-dictator is favored to win an upcoming presidential election, and America is implicated in many of the troubles - it's Americans who come to the hotel to buy babies, CIA agents attend the military conference. Garcia sets the characters in motion and closely observes their inner lives. Her writing is psychologically realistic, without overt moral judgment. Even as the world just off-camera is filled with big dramatic events - an election, a hurricane, a fatal nightclub fire, terrorist bombings - the characters themselves remain grounded in both their immediate concerns and their introspection about past regrets and future decisions. 

Die 2

 
 
Die 2
Split the Party

by Kieron Gillen

art by Stephanie Hans

Image Comics

2020

 

  

In the first volume of Die, we learned that on Dominic's 16th birthday, he and five of his friends gathered to play a bespoke roleplaying game. They vanished from the Earth for months, and when they came back, they were unable to speak about anything that happened there, and game master Solomon remained behind. Then, a couple decades later, as they were all staring down the disappointments of their mid-30s, they got pulled back to the game world, back to the 20-sided planet Die. 
 
When they returned to Die, each got back the supernatural powers they had the first time. Also, Dominic, who seemed happy enough to be a man on Earth, became a woman named Ash. Going back again opened up a lot of old wounds and traumas, and the group couldn't leave until everyone agreed. Ultimately, they killed Sol, but then the group fractured, with three wanting to leave, and two wanting to stay behind.
 
In volume 2, Split the Party, we return after more weeks or months have passed, and both sides are basically hopeless. Ash the Dictator, who can compel people to do things; her sister Angela, the fairy-powered cyberpunk Neo; and Matt the Grief Knight, whose powers are fueled by his own and others' sadness, are trapped in the besieged remains of Glass Town. Izzy the Godbinder, who can compel spirits to do do favors for her on the promise she'll do them a favor in return in the future, and Chuck the Fool, who can be supernaturally lucky, so long as he remains over-confident and non-self-reflective, have been transported to the far side of the planet. Everyone is starving and desperate at the start of the volume.
 
Die seems to be made up of the remains of the games others have played there before. Glass Town, and the countries Angria and Gondal, were all invented collectively by the Brontes; the conquering army from Eternal Prussia seems like it came from the war games HG Wells used to play on the living room floor with Robert Louis Stevenson. My recognizing this isn't a spoiler, but neither is it something Gillon necessarily expects his audience to already know. The characters certainly don't. An explanation of the allusions is part of the plot. Zamorna, who is as fiendish as he is handsome, is another Bronte creation; he eventually describes himself as a ravisher of 17 year-old girls, dreamed up by a 17 year-old girl who wanted to be ravished. Gillon makes him literally a vampire.
 
The last time the group was on Die, they initially treated is as just a game, the place itself and its inhabitants as unreal. They acted as though their actions had no consequences, as though they were the only people present who could be hurt or who had lives that mattered. They were also, after an unspecified period of just having fun, desperate to figure out how to escape and return home. Eventually they came to accept that Die was real, magical but real, that the people who lived there were real. We don't really know what they did before reaching that point, but we know they regret a lot of it, now.
 
And they regret all the chaos Sol caused, and that their only plan to defeat Sol involved allowing Prussia to wreck Glass Town. Sol, though dead, persists as one of the Fallen, the zombie-orcs that the group used to just think of as generic monsters to kill.
 
Ash, Angela, Matt, and their prisoner Sol go to Angria, where they are greeted by Ash's son, Augustus, who is a member of the Ruling Party here. It seems that as teenagers, Izzy dated Zamorna, then Ash dated Zamorna and got pregnant, and Izzy got a goddess to agree to take over the pregnancy when they all returned to Earth. Izzy and Zamorna arrive not long after Ash, (Chuck is off sleeping with elf queens instead, apparently,) and Izzy confesses to the group's role in the conquest of Glass Town, which gets them all locked in bell jars in prison.
 
While they're locked up, their jailer is the ghost or remnant of Charlotte Bronte, who briefly tells the story of how she and her siblings made up their parts of Die. Allegiances shift, and Ash agrees to help Izzy save the world before they leave again, which involves a complicated plan to temporarily amplify her Dictator's powers to make herself the queen of Angria and place Zamorna under her thrall. We'll have to wait to see what she'll do!
 
Meanwhile Chuck shows up, luckily at just the right time to rescue Matt and Angela, leaving the zombie of Sol in prison. They have a different plan to save the world, so they're off to the races too.
 
Gillon's use of so many literary characters and setting components here reminds me of The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen or Fables, though I suspect the gaming history he's drawing on is much less familiar to most people than the literary heroes and fairy tale figures from those series. 
 
Portal fantasies where you change when you pass through the portal (and I guess magical girl series where you transform to activate your powers) have the potential to include magical gender changes, but I think Gillon has done more with that idea than I've seen before. My one complaint is that Ash is so reserved and taciturn that we hardly know how she feels, or how Dominic felt about briefly becoming a girl and then turning back into a boy all those years ago. Dominic was bi, and maybe the experience helped him accept his attraction to men? But in neither body does Dominic or Ash appear to experience any kind of gender dysphoria. 

 

We get one page of backstory about her relationship with Zamorna, how it intersected with her fraught friendship with Izzy, and what happened to her pregnancy. The emotion is implied amidst a spare recitation of facts, without the benefit an actual voice to lend inflection to the words. You know she's not happy, that her lack of affect is covering up some kind of pain, but all we see is the surface of the black box. We can only guess what's inside it. Maybe there's more coming, but I can't help but wish that Ash was either more expressive or that she had a foil, another character who experienced the same things but reacted differently, so we could discern more about how she felt by contrast.