Apparently in the works for several years before its debut at CAB late last year (at least if the catalogue number attached to it by its publisher, Retrofit/Big Planet, is to be believed — and why wouldn’t it be?), it’s perhaps easier to define Andrew Lorenzi’s visionary graphic story cycle, Multo, by what it isn’t rather than what it actually is — taken as a whole the work has a distinct rhythm, but not a progression; it’s not strictly a work of comics poetry, but its overall effect is poetic; and while it’s technically a memoir, most of the incidents it depicts have an ethereal, dreamlike quality to them.

Showcasing Lorenzi’s multi-faceted talents along a stylistic continuum nearly as broad as that of cartoonists such as Tommi Musturi or Karl Stevens, this generously (and necessarily) oversized volume relates its autobiographical contents by means of painting, embroidery…

It’s not every day that a long-form comics project (or, if you like, a “graphic novel”) gets its own separately-published postscript, much less one that takes the form of an eight-page mini comic presented in full color whereas the book it refers back to is in black and white — but we live in unusual times, as evidenced by the fact that I’m even reviewing an eight-page mini in the first place.

That being said, fellow Twin Cities resident Lance Ward has lived through much stranger times than these during his periods of addiction and subsequent recovery, and some of those are chronicled in The Truth Behind Blood And Drugs, the rather quickly-issued “epilogue” of sorts to last year’s celebrated Blood And Drugs that comes our way courtesy of the same publisher, J.T. Yost’s Birdcage Bottom Books. And while I’m not prepared to go so far as to call…

I was thoroughly transfixed by the first self-published issue of Paula Lawrie’s My Geometric Family and her unique approach to blending the surreal with the real to illustrate the beauty and vagaries of the nature of memory in equal measure, and the promise that more installments were forthcoming was exciting news indeed, but I really have to give her credit for getting #2 out so quickly and for not only maintaining the high standard of quality she’d already established, but broadening and deepening the scope of her project and finding ways to increase its thematic resonance in a manner entirely unforced and organic. Simply put, this is an artist who appears to be getting more confident with her vision as she goes — and she was approaching already it with plenty of confidence from the starting gate.

As Lawrie continues her childhood memoir in this issue, the central event affecting…

It’s always a tricky thing, when you want to convince people to not just read, but actually buy a comic — yet you don’t want to give much, if anything, of said comic away. Such is the case with the second issue of Alex Nall’s self-published series Kids With Guns, so I guess the best way to go here is to proceed with caution — just as I probably would if confronted by, say, an armed child.

I gave the first issue of this comic high marks, but I was expecting something of a slow burn — the unusual, but for all intents and purposes reciprocal and healthy, inter-generational friendship between 10-year-old Milo and his eighty-year-old neighbor, Mel, was the focal point of that debut installment, and while there were hints that the provocative title Nall chose for this project was going to come into play at some point…

It’s been a little while since we took a look at what Columbus, Ohio’s Brian Canini is doing over at his Drunken Cat comics imprint, but seeing as how I just got a package from him in the mail last week, and finally had a chance to read through it all last night, now’s as good a time as any to put his work back under our metaphorical microscope —

Plastic People #11 is one of the best issues of the now-long-running series to date, as our “plastic surgery police” in a future LA continue their investigation of the city’s first murder in decades by talking to one of the last surviving REAL cops in town (an LA without police? Talk about a utopia) in order to figure out how to even begin gathering clues and identifying suspects in the first place. This title damn near lost me when Canini…

Everything about Minneapolis-based cartoonist Peter Faecke’s Major Bummer #2 is painfully obvious — but the same was also true of the first issue (published, as this one is, by Hidden Fortress Press), and it’s rather the point. I’ve never known Faecke to do subtle, but is that some great artistic sin? Kirby didn’t either, after all, and would you really have wanted him to?

So, yeah, Major Dick Bummer, the US government’s deadliest weapon (living or otherwise) is back to kick more ass, and speaking of kicking ass, this offset-printed mini on heavy cardstock paper features a pleasingly limited and appropriate garish color palette that does precisely that, accentuating the visceral, vaguely Panter-esque impact of Faekce’s deliberately “crude” cartooning with a blast of blue, red, and black gradations that kick you in the eyeballs as surely as the drawings themselves kick you in the — well, let’s be equal-opportunity here…

When you think Kelly Froh, you generally think of superbly-constructed and heartfelt memoir and autobio comics, either short-form or long, but with her latest self-published ‘zine, The Downed Deer, she blows that perception right out of the water — and the results are quietly, and frighteningly, glorious.

One of the best Short Run debuts I picked up this past November, this handsomely-formatted comic is riso-printed in rich burgundy ink on thick cream-colored paper, so it’s a pleasure to look at before you’ve even looked at it good and proper, but I should probably warn you : don’t give this even a cursory glance-though prior to reading it or you’ll “spoil” the whole damn thing. There’s a key surprise toward the end that is best left exactly that, so I’ll refrain from giving too detailed a plot recap here.

What I will say is that the fluidity of Froh’s cartooning…

Some comics you hate. Some you’re indifferent to. Others you like. And then there are those, all too rare it seems, that you absolutely fall in love with.

Let me introduce you to the latest object of my unbridled affection, David King’s Yellow Flag Intelligence Squadron #1.

Published under the auspices of King’s own Gentle Books imprint at the tail end of last year, this is pure cartoony “eye candy” from start to finish, expressive and engaging and inherently humorous drawings in service of an endlessly creative story that pits our trio of instantly-adorable heroes (Calorie, Brainer, and Killer Bear — even their names just make you wanna give ’em all a hug) that make up the legendary Earth-based Division 0001.0 of the titular squadron against their only real foe, namely themselves. Their mission to “protect all sentient life” seems pretty somber and serious, but when you’re not getting…

Such is the life of a jobbing freelance critic that I sometimes don’t get around to things in a timely manner, so my sincere apologies to cartoonist Kriota Willberg for not reviewing her late-2019 (and, it should be added, self-published) mini Stubb & Leski’s Catsmas during the holiday season, which would have made a lot more sense than doing so in February. In my (admittedly tepid) defense, one only has so many hours in a day and the stack of books I “owe” a review to is fairly large, but still — I feel bad for not being more “Johnny on the spot” with this one.

The good news, however, is that this is such an utterly unforced and charming little book in its own singular way that it reads well at any time of the year, and you should avail yourself of the opportunity to just that as soon…