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A review by doctorwithoutboundaries
Monstress, Vol. 1: Awakening by Marjorie Liu
3.0
Winner of the 2017 Hugo Award for Best Graphic Story
I stumbled upon this book’s GR page completely at random, and my jaw fell to the floor at the sight of its gorgeous cover. Then I read IGN’s glowing review of this volume, and I spotted it on several lists of ‘Best New Comics’; I knew I had to read it immediately. But I won’t bother trying to summarise the complex plot or draw a character portrait of the protagonist (Maiko), as IGN does all of that better than I could.
There are so many reasons to love this book. For one thing, it has an almost all-female, predominantly Asian cast. I didn’t even notice the matriarchal nature of the book’s societies until the third issue because Liu’s world-building is done swiftly and the characters are more than believable in their roles. For another, you simply have to admire the creators’ courage to risk publishing a first issue that’s more than twice the standard length of single issues.
And that risk certainly pays off. The first issue of this volume left me breathless. I thought for sure that I’d found my new favourite series and artist. I soaked in the stunning panels and felt guilty for cheating on [a: Fiona Staples|304633|Fiona Staples|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1379339265p2/304633.jpg]. I was thoroughly immersed in this new world, invested in its characters and intrigued by its mythos. I was at the edge of my seat throughout Maiko’s thrilling survival story. Yes, it confused me, but not in a bad way. Instead, I was curious and eager for the creators to show me more of their world; the first issue was full of promise.
But, in a bid to assuage confused readers, Liu ends a strong second issue with a feline historian who blandly narrates the history of her world over a two page spread—a jarring change in mood. This Professor Tam Tam then becomes a regular fixture at the end of each issue... I’m very disappointed that Liu decided to tell, instead of show. This cutesy ending to each issue is so incongruous with the initial dark and gritty tone. To paraphrase a character from Silicon Valley, Liu introduced a cartoonish and silly guide to walk the user through a slick and sophisticated platform.
Some may not mind this, but I find it very insulting when writers assume that the rest of us are incapable of slowly piecing together the backstory as we read each subsequent issue. That’s the only reason I knocked off a star from [b: Sugar Skull|21480575|Sugar Skull|Charles Burns|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1558949063l/21480575._SX50_.jpg|27228688]: third book in an otherwise excellent trilogy. A single page towards the end of that book—an attempt to clarify things—ruined it for me. Charles Burns needed to have more faith in his product and his readers, and so does Marjorie M. Liu. But in a way, this book is worse because even the infodump is roundabout, so why do it at all? Now slight but exciting confusion transforms into plain annoyance.
This seemed like a minor inconvenience between fantastically drawn and well-paced issues—until the fourth issue. From which point on there is some stilted dialogue, more telling, less showing and yet another inexcusable infusion of cuteness into this world of monsters, mysteries and magic. I can understand the urge to have a character like the little girl, Kippa, but Liu overplays it. She also adds a sudden sarcastic, spunky edge to Maiko’s brooding manner of speech, at odds with her earlier jaded lone survivalist persona. I don’t like that the plot morphed into an adventure story of a ragtag band of fugitives.
All of this may sound like nitpicking, but I’m actually desperately sad at how this evolved. I was very moved by the author’s note* at the end of the first issue telling us how her grandparents’ wartime backgrounds inspired this story. I could definitely see that influence in the issue; it’s rife with symbolism about the unseen injuries that war inflicts, almost Nietzschean in its deliberation on the monster-within-you angle. I hope that her next volume can consistently recreate the tone of her first issue, but with added depth, more structure and no crutches for exposition.
The artwork, thankfully, is already perfect: brilliant in its scope and meticulous in its detailing. The rich colour palette boasts powerful shades, and Sana Takeda plays with light in ingenious ways. Every single page is so visually striking that it belongs in an art gallery. However, I do disagree a bit with IGN’s assessment of Takeda’s work. They say that her characters are expressive, but each panel feels more like a still frame—except for one page in issue #3 that depicts an “Inquisitrix” in action. Here, Takeda proved that she can capture movement adeptly as well. Her portrayal of the action sequence did in fact remind me of Kill Bill... A compliment, if ever there was one! In any case, I don’t consider this a constant requisite in a book like Monstress, where the aim is to exude an art deco vibe with steampunk imagery. I can’t wait to read all the upcoming volumes, if only to see the heights of Takeda’s ambition.
...
* I read this as single issues #1-6, so I can’t attest that this note made it into the TPB.
I stumbled upon this book’s GR page completely at random, and my jaw fell to the floor at the sight of its gorgeous cover. Then I read IGN’s glowing review of this volume, and I spotted it on several lists of ‘Best New Comics’; I knew I had to read it immediately. But I won’t bother trying to summarise the complex plot or draw a character portrait of the protagonist (Maiko), as IGN does all of that better than I could.
There are so many reasons to love this book. For one thing, it has an almost all-female, predominantly Asian cast. I didn’t even notice the matriarchal nature of the book’s societies until the third issue because Liu’s world-building is done swiftly and the characters are more than believable in their roles. For another, you simply have to admire the creators’ courage to risk publishing a first issue that’s more than twice the standard length of single issues.
And that risk certainly pays off. The first issue of this volume left me breathless. I thought for sure that I’d found my new favourite series and artist. I soaked in the stunning panels and felt guilty for cheating on [a: Fiona Staples|304633|Fiona Staples|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1379339265p2/304633.jpg]. I was thoroughly immersed in this new world, invested in its characters and intrigued by its mythos. I was at the edge of my seat throughout Maiko’s thrilling survival story. Yes, it confused me, but not in a bad way. Instead, I was curious and eager for the creators to show me more of their world; the first issue was full of promise.
But, in a bid to assuage confused readers, Liu ends a strong second issue with a feline historian who blandly narrates the history of her world over a two page spread—a jarring change in mood. This Professor Tam Tam then becomes a regular fixture at the end of each issue... I’m very disappointed that Liu decided to tell, instead of show. This cutesy ending to each issue is so incongruous with the initial dark and gritty tone. To paraphrase a character from Silicon Valley, Liu introduced a cartoonish and silly guide to walk the user through a slick and sophisticated platform.
Some may not mind this, but I find it very insulting when writers assume that the rest of us are incapable of slowly piecing together the backstory as we read each subsequent issue. That’s the only reason I knocked off a star from [b: Sugar Skull|21480575|Sugar Skull|Charles Burns|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1558949063l/21480575._SX50_.jpg|27228688]: third book in an otherwise excellent trilogy. A single page towards the end of that book—an attempt to clarify things—ruined it for me. Charles Burns needed to have more faith in his product and his readers, and so does Marjorie M. Liu. But in a way, this book is worse because even the infodump is roundabout, so why do it at all? Now slight but exciting confusion transforms into plain annoyance.
This seemed like a minor inconvenience between fantastically drawn and well-paced issues—until the fourth issue. From which point on there is some stilted dialogue, more telling, less showing and yet another inexcusable infusion of cuteness into this world of monsters, mysteries and magic. I can understand the urge to have a character like the little girl, Kippa, but Liu overplays it. She also adds a sudden sarcastic, spunky edge to Maiko’s brooding manner of speech, at odds with her earlier jaded lone survivalist persona. I don’t like that the plot morphed into an adventure story of a ragtag band of fugitives.
All of this may sound like nitpicking, but I’m actually desperately sad at how this evolved. I was very moved by the author’s note* at the end of the first issue telling us how her grandparents’ wartime backgrounds inspired this story. I could definitely see that influence in the issue; it’s rife with symbolism about the unseen injuries that war inflicts, almost Nietzschean in its deliberation on the monster-within-you angle. I hope that her next volume can consistently recreate the tone of her first issue, but with added depth, more structure and no crutches for exposition.
The artwork, thankfully, is already perfect: brilliant in its scope and meticulous in its detailing. The rich colour palette boasts powerful shades, and Sana Takeda plays with light in ingenious ways. Every single page is so visually striking that it belongs in an art gallery. However, I do disagree a bit with IGN’s assessment of Takeda’s work. They say that her characters are expressive, but each panel feels more like a still frame—except for one page in issue #3 that depicts an “Inquisitrix” in action. Here, Takeda proved that she can capture movement adeptly as well. Her portrayal of the action sequence did in fact remind me of Kill Bill... A compliment, if ever there was one! In any case, I don’t consider this a constant requisite in a book like Monstress, where the aim is to exude an art deco vibe with steampunk imagery. I can’t wait to read all the upcoming volumes, if only to see the heights of Takeda’s ambition.
...
* I read this as single issues #1-6, so I can’t attest that this note made it into the TPB.