The Wild Swans by Jackie Morris
Published by Unbound, 2021
Rating: ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐
Rather than reimagining the story, as most modern takes on fairy tales do, this is very much the classic Hans Christian Andersen story, retold in Morris’ own words, accompanied by her stunning watercolour illustrations. Sticking faithfully to the original text, any small changes and additions feel well placed, fleshing out the characters and adding greater emotional depth by exploring their motivations, especially where the “wicked stepmother” trope is concerned.
It stands fairly unique among the fairy tale canon; our princess very much the heroine of the piece as opposed to a damsel, and the primary focus on familial love over romance, as Eliza strives to outsmart a vengeful queen and save her brothers. It’s not easy to maintain the inherent air of whimsy and magic that comes with a fairy tale throughout a full-length text without it feeling overly twee, but Morris pulls it off. Her prose is simple yet lyrical, the perfect accompaniment to her artwork, which is as ethereal and enchanting as ever.
Coma by Zara Slattery
Published by Myriad Editions, 2021
Rating: ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐
This graphic memoir recounts a period of 15 days in 2013 when Slattery was placed in a drug-induced coma, after contracting a life-threatening bacterial infection that aggressively attacks the skin and muscle. The account flits back and forth between events in the “real world”, where her husband’s diary entries explain the efforts being made my medical staff to save Slattery’s life, while he looks after their children, and the hallucinogenic nightmares experienced by Slattery throughout her coma as she fights to regain consciousness.
The contrast between monochrome (real world events) and kaleidoscopic colour (Slattery’s nightmares) works really well to emphasize both the bewilderment the author experienced, and the necessary persistence of mundane, domestic life for her loved ones, despite them living through a time of such heightened anxiety and emotion.
Slattery’s story is a great example of how people can rally together during a crisis, and how illness is so often a shared experience. Being written and published some years on from the incident, however, I felt it would have benefitted from a little more reflection on her subsequent recovery, both physical and mental.
Still, this is a striking read that highlights a little-known medical condition, while showcasing the unique strengths of the graphic novel form.
This is a gentle and ruminative look at how much our mood/mental health can be affected by the changing seasons. The text itself is relatively simple, though it does have an air of prose poetry to it. So while it may not discuss any particularly unique experiences or offer up any ground-breaking insights, it is likely to resonate widely.
I’ve been an admirer of Giordano’s work ever since I took up embroidery myself. Specialising in characterful, hyper-realistic woodland animals, her pieces are brought to life in her own distinct style of thread painting. In this book, she breaks down her creative process – in general terms, and on a piece-by-piece basis. It’s definitely easy to draw inspiration from her work, and though most of us will never come close to her standard, it is a joy to pore over such high-quality reproductions of her designs – the book itself having been produced to a wonderful standard.
This memoir explores Belc’s experiences as a transmasculine nonbinary parent, with a particular focus on the shifting nature of identity, and the language we use to define ourselves.
I picked this up knowing very little about it (due in part to a deliberately vague blurb), and there was definitely an element of my expectations not matching what the book actually set out to offer. I was anticipating something gothic and unsettling that flirted with magical realism, akin to Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House. Instead, I got a middle grade-leaning fantastical story with a campy-horror vibe, more akin to The Addams Family.
Performance poet, musician, and novelist Kae Tempest has written an extended essay that explores the role of creativity in fostering connections throughout society.
This collection is definitely at its strongest when Francisco tackles the topics of systemic racism and police brutality against Black people. In these pieces, there are some excellent, gut-punch lines that cut right to the quick.
I feel very conflicted about this one, and am pained to not be writing a more positive review. It’s a case of a book that I hugely admire and recommend for its intention, but which I found frustrating in its execution.
This collection of poems centres around Miller’s attempts to navigate grief after the loss of her brother, her mother’s alcoholism, and the everyday struggles she faces as a Black, queer woman in modern America.
Tom’s wit, warmth, and honesty shine through in this charming yet poignant memoir. It centres around the idea of shame, with Tom sharing formative moments from throughout his life in which he was either cowed by the shame inflicted upon him by society, or when he actively defied it by embracing his own path.
This is Johnson’s memoir, reflecting on his experiences as a young Black gay man growing up in America. The book encompasses many big themes, including queerness, family, identity, racism, abuse, and masculinity.
This full-length narrative poem weaves in and out of the homes of seven people who all live on the same street in London, as they lie awake at 4am. They are strangers to each other, but through a series of snapshots into their lives, Tempest captures the universal anxieties of modern life, despite their different circumstances.
Callum McLaughlin 