The Lost Spells by Robert Macfarlane, illustrated by Jackie Morris
Published by Hamish Hamilton, 2020
Rating: ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐
Following the huge success of their previous collaboration, The Lost Words, poet Robert Macfarlane and artist Jackie Morris have created another ode to the beauty of the natural world, and the importance of preserving the language we use to describe it.
The text is always approachable, the playful imagery and lively rhythm making the poems ideal pieces to be read aloud. Take for example these excerpts from my favourite poem in the collection, Red Fox:
A bloom of rust
at your vision’s edge,
The shadow that slips
through a hole in the hedge,
My two green eyes
in your headlights’ rush,
A scatter of feathers,
the tip of a brush.
[…]
Shifter of shapes
and garbage-raider,
Bearer of fire
and space-invader,
Taker of risks
and riddle-maker,
Messenger, trickster,
curfew-breaker.
Morris’s accompanying artwork is gorgeous. It captures the very real majesty of each species covered while quietly hinting at something more magical, such is the atmosphere of reverence established within the book. I love the sentiment of the project as a whole, and would be more than happy to see the two continue working together.
The Unwinding by Jackie Morris
Published by Unbound, 2020
Rating: ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐
If Morris’s collaborations with Macfarlane hint ever so subtly at something magical, here she leans fully into it. A series of vignettes crafted in text and watercolour, The Unwinding is best described less as a short story collection, and more as a series of dreams rendered on paper. You shouldn’t expect a rounded narrative arc or in-depth development, but you certainly can expect stunning artwork that evokes enchanting worlds, enigmatic characters, and an ethereal atmosphere. This elusive beauty is perfect for stimulating the imagination.
The text we do get is simple yet charming; little pieces of flash fiction that read like a blend of prose poetry and magical realism. This tone is perfectly suited to the dreamlike quality of the visuals. The introduction itself explains that this text is merely intended as a jumping off point, however; one of many possible scenarios involving the vivid characters, settings, and lore hinted at in the artwork. Indeed, it is Morris’s hope that everyone will find their own meaning and interpret their own stories from the images, just as we would our dreams.
Each page is a treasure trove of sumptuous detail, cementing Morris as one of my favourite artists. I know I won’t be able to resist dipping in and out of this one regularly.
Like any collection of poetry, there were themes, styles, and individual poems in this that impacted me more than others, but on the whole, it’s another impressive selection that proves Brown’s ability to pack a punch.
Mackesy’s artwork is incredibly charming, and the sentiment throughout this book is lovely. There’s no story; it’s simply a series of random, fleeting vignettes about a lonely, sensitive young boy who befriends some animals, the ragtag group wandering the landscape and sharing musings on life.
This short from Tor Books is about a mission to make contact – and attempt to draw up a peace treaty – with the first newly discovered alien race. It has many hallmarks of classic sci-fi, and is a quick, engaging read, but it’s the subtext that helps this one stand out – even if it does become a little heavy-handed by the end. Essentially, the story is a riff on the idea of what constitutes power, and where, as a society, we place credence. Chiefly, Older asks the reader to consider why we feel compelled to supress pain.
This graphic memoir of Frida Kahlo offers a particularly insightful look into life with chronic pain, and the transformative power of art. It’s very interestingly structured, both in its forgoing of traditional panels in favour of a freeform layout, and in its narrative framing, with the book presented as though a first-person discussion between Kahlo and Death. Having suffered many losses throughout her life, and flirted dangerously close to death many times herself, this has effective thematic resonance.
Reading a collection of Duffy’s poetry is an odd experience, in that her work often oscillates between the clumsily blatant and the impenetrably obscure. When she strikes the sweet spot between the two, there’s no denying her ability to pack a punch with a limited word count. The highlights here were the poems that explored the loss of her mother, particularly the pieces, ‘Water’ and ‘Cold’.
This encyclopaedia of gods, monsters, and mortals from Ancient Greece serves as a fantastic entry point or reference guide for those at all interested in mythology. The book highlights 50 key figures, and though the text for each character isn’t exactly exhaustive, we’re given a condensed snapshot of their role within the canon, and a few interesting facts about them. Seasoned myth enthusiasts are unlikely to learn anything new, as such, but having been written by a Classics scholar and Greek mythology expert, the information is succinct and reliable.
“Horizontal collaboration” is a term coined to describe French women who embarked on romantic or sexual relationships with German soldiers during Occupation. This graphic novel opens in the present day, with a young woman visiting her elderly grandmother, lamenting the complexities of modern love. This inspires her grandmother to finally open up about her own past, divulging the details of a tragic love affair she became entangled in back in 1942.
Walden’s science-fiction epic is a graphic novel told across two timelines. The first follows Mia as she befriends and falls in love with Grace, the new girl at school. The second, which plays out simultaneously, follows Mia several years later as she joins the crew of a ship that travels around the galaxy, repairing historic buildings. It becomes clear that she has an ulterior motive, however. Having lost all contact with Grace for more than five years, she wants to find and reconnect with her first love, to make peace with the way they parted company.
In this deeply personal yet outwardly ambitious graphic memoir, Thi Bui recounts her family’s experience of displacement following the collapse of South Vietnam in the wake of the war, and their attempts to resettle in the US.
This gem of a book celebrates some of the most ground-breaking and inspiring female writers from throughout history. The title, and the book’s overarching theme, comes from the assertion that their way with words – their ability to conjure worlds and incite emotion – is in itself a kind of magic. Like those accused of witchcraft, many of these writers were vilified for refusing to adhere to societal expectations, but by challenging the norm and embracing their talent, they were able to forge their own power and agency.
Styled as the diary-cum-sketch-pad of a horror loving 10-year-old girl, My Favorite Thing is Monsters is a playful, meta, and engrossing read. Taking place in 1960s Chicago, there is an element of mystery at the story’s core, with our protagonist determined to uncover the circumstances surrounding the death of her enigmatic upstairs neighbour, Anka – a troubled Holocaust survivor.
