Billed by publisher Kus! as either a “visual riddle or rather a sudoku in a comic form,” there’s really nothing that precludes Latvian cartoonist Martins Zutis’ Crime At Babel (released last month as #88 in the long-running Mini Kus! line) from being both, of course — after all, last I checked, a sudoku is, in fact, a type of riddle, and one that’s usually well beyond my meager problem-solving abilities, at that. I know a lot of people have fun with the damn things, but I’m not one of them, and therefore I went into this comic with, at the very least, some nominal misgivings.

Maybe the whole thing will just blow right past me, I thought to myself. Maybe my brain just doesn’t work in a way that will allow me to come to grips with it. Maybe it’ll just be too damn smart for me. These things…

I’ve reviewed some pretty “far out” comics in my time — and some of the most “far out” have been part of the Mini Kus! line from Latvian publisher Kus! — but Portuguese cartoonist Hetamoe’s Violent Delights (which was just released last month as Mini Kus! #87) probably takes the cake as the most experimental, borderline-indescribable work I’ve ever tried to wrap my head around in full view of my readership. I won’t do you the disservice of saying that I’ve completely figured this one out yet, and to be honest I’m not sure that I ever will, but maybe that’s not even the point here. This is complex, challenging, at times even taxing stuff — and where it takes you, as well as how it gets you there, is going to vary a great deal from reader to reader. I’ll even go so far as to say that I’m…

For number 86 in their Mini Kus! series, Latvian publisher Kus! didn’t have to venture beyond their borders to find home-grown talent Roberts Rurans, whose work you may recall from some of their anthology publications and who more than proves up for the challenge of carrying a 28-page publication all on his own. In fact, if anything, (extra) Ordinary demonstrates that he could’ve used a bit more space.

Not for narrative, mind you — as far as story goes this is plenty “decompressed,” even threadbare, as is — but his Tommi Parish-esque compositions are so lush, so colorful, and so imaginative that 10-12 more pages of them wouldn’t be objectionable in the least. His tale herein is ostensibly about a young girl seeking escape from boredom, and to say it’s never boring in the least is an understatement of pretty significant, even borderline-criminal, proportions.

Now, whether our nameless protagonist…

I know just about nothing in regards to Japanese cartoonist and experimental musician Harukichi, but that’s one of the sublime joys of the long-running Mini Kus! line from Latvian “art comics” publisher Kus! — its introduces you to new voices from around the globe whose work likely wouldn’t come across your radar otherwise. And when it comes to Harukichi’s Hero — number 85 in the Mini Kus! series — I’m damn glad it did.

Apparently, our protagonist in this one — a cat named Gosshie who “works” as a DJ — is a recurring character in Harukichi’s stories, and his gift appears to be the ability to find exactly the right song for every occasion. Not a bad skill to have, to be sure, and in this comic he cleverly deploys one apropos track after another for situations ranging from the everyday to the extraordinary as he makes his way…

Talk about a step out of the old “comfort zone” — Hong Kong-based cartoonist Chihoi is best known for delicate, lushly-rendered graphite illustration that’s equal parts emotive, subtle, and expressive, but with his latest mini, The Book Fight, he takes off the gloves — even if his literal Comic Book protagonist does, in fact, wear a pair of them. Boxing gloves, to be precise. And he definitely punches well above his weight class.

Rendered in sub-garish oranges, yellows, and whites, Chihoi’s book — which “weighs in” at number 84 in the long-running Mini Kus! line — contains plenty of visual bang for your buck, sure, complete with Kirby-esque flair, flourish, and (crucially) impact, but underneath all the admittedly self-aware bombast is a point well taken, namely : the hierarchy of “art book” publications is complete bullshit, and there’s nothing to preclude you from enjoying a well-constructed children’s pop-up…

Confession time : I hate “Secret Santa.” Not out of some general antipathy toward the Holiday Season in general — although that plays a part — but more because the “exchange” either forces you to view somebody you likely don’t really know all that well as a generic, interchangeable type of figure (“I’ll get them a pair of ugly Christmas socks! That’ll be fun!”), or to actually get to know more about them than you care to in order to pick out a gift they might genuinely like. But what the hell do I know? Consistently-fascinating cartoonist Keren Katz (covered most recently around these parts in my review of her latest full-length book, The Backstage Of A Dishwashing Webshow) says it’s her favorite game, and she’s found a unique way to express her love of it in her latest mini, Chapter Two, which is number 83 in…

In fairly short order, I’ve become convinced beyond any shadow of a doubt that  Aussie Many Ord ranks right up there with the likes of Alison McCreesh and Eleanor Davis as one of the great “travelogue” cartoonists of our time, But whereas her previous globetrotting works concerned themselves with singular elements that tied the experiences together, with her 2019 self-published mini, Kyoto Pants Down, she take a different, and frankly more standard, approach, focusing on a set of general impressions of, and experiences set in, Kyoto, Japan. But hey — please don’t take “standard” to be at all synonymous with “dull.”

In point of fact, the narrative in this thick (52 pages!) little book book is as tight as Ord’s always-agreeable line is loose, and that balance between plotting/storytelling precision and fluid, organic art gives the comic a distinct vibe all its own, a flair and flavor that accentuates…

Ludicrously impressed as I was by a couple of Mandy Ord minis — Water and Cold — that I scored awhile back from John Porcellino’s Spit And A Half distro, I was delighted to explore more of this talented Australian cartoonist’s work, and to find that the first thing I opened up in the new (okay, newer, it was published by Glom Press in 2018) package of books that I got from her represented something of a step out of her usual autobio nest and into the realm of horror. Or slapstick horror. Or nature horror. Or maybe it’s all (or mostly) autobio after all? Or something.

Anyway, it’s called Galapagos, it’s 48 pages long in a riso-printed “chapbook” format, and it’s pretty weird and cool and off-kilter and great. And it has zombies. Right on the cover. And inside. And people like zombies. In fact, they…

None of the strips in cartoonist Harry Nordlinger’s 2019 self-published “solo creator” horror anthology comic Softer Than Sunshine run more than four pages — hell, a good many of them are only a single page long — but that doesn’t mean they’re not worth contemplating. Absorbing. Soaking in. Examining your reactions to.

Yes, they’re punchy and precisely-timed by design, not unlike the classic EC horror tales of yesteryear, but they don’t  necessarily resort to tight-form narrative — or even narrative at all — to achieve their desired effect. “The kind of thing that crawls under your skin” is an overused term to be sure, but Nordlinger takes it a step further — or maybe that should be a step, or better yet an inch, deeper. These are horror shorts — some “tales,” sure, others more accurately described as scenarios — that burrow under your skin, that take hold and…

Okay, if you want to be absolutely technical about things, Andrew Alexander’s 2018 magazine-sized (printed on heavy gray cardstock paper, in garish blue ink) comic Twenty One Fifty Fiverr is eight pages long, but that’s including front and back covers, which is kinda fudging the numbers a bit, even though I do like to do everything I can to “upsell” quality self-published works like this one. Either way you slice it, though, there’s no denying this comic is short — but, just as inarguable is the fact that it packs one hell of a punch.

How to describe this visceral experience? Well, on the one hand it reminds one of Gary Panter in a pinch, sure, but on the other it’s far more concerned with the utterly grotesque and revels in its place in the gutter. I can’t see Alexander’s work being allowed through the hallowed gates of the “fine”…