Daytripper: Life in Snapshots

Twin brothers Fábio Moon and Gabriel Bá have inked their way into the graphic novel hall of fame with Daytripper. The Brazilian brothers crafted a genre-bending work of art that brought me joy from start to finish. 

Brás de Olivia Domingos writes endings–namely, obituaries. His dad is a world-famous writer, and Brás grapples with his own place in the world and whether he lives in his father’s shadow or will build on his father’s legacy. Daytripper follows Brás through his entire life, capturing little snapshots of the moments that have mattered to him. Each issue, collected here in a hefty but breezily readable volume, offers an impactful vignette that explores Brás’ life and death, as any reader will quickly find. 

Daytripper seems enshrined in an air of mystery, and some readers may feel the urge to “figure it out” or “solve” the riddles within. I recommend approaching it from a different angle: enjoy the stories of Daytripper as art, and live Brás’ life alongside him. Dwell on the details, but don’t parse them out with yarn and a bulletin board. Moon and Bá have a knack for putting a world–their worldon the page. The art, the characters, and the dialogue combine to form one powerhouse of a story chock-full of joy, loss, and sadness. The brothers have, in other words, condensed life onto the page. 

I won’t offer you much by way of a summary. Daytripper reads at a quick pace, and the stories within capture formative moments: first kiss, first love, the fading of friendship, having a child, and more. The volume’s back-cover blurb asks the question “But on the day that life begins, would he even notice?” Daytripper presents a number of possible contenders for the moment when life slaps you in the face and begs you to live it. 

But the point, as you may have guessed, is that none of these moments can possibly define a life. Instead, they shape it. Every day, new moments and fresh experiences glom onto the ever-shifting mold of your path through the universe, and you’re responsible for holding on to them or letting them pass. Nobody, no all-knowing force, will tell you when to pay attention, and Brás’ stories teach that lesson artfully. 

Daytripper offers some of the most beautiful art I’ve ever seen in a graphic novel, and it’s matched exquisitely by deft characterization and poignant stories. I know this is ostensibly a review of the piece, but I hesitate to dive any deeper. Just as the graphic novel shows Brás’ personal journey, your reading of Daytripper will inevitably strike you in a different way than mine did for me. I loved it, and I hope you do too.

Rating: Daytripper – 9.0/10

Skin&Earth – It’s Lit

Screen Shot 2018-11-15 at 9.27.20 AMWhen an established creator receives a veritable onslaught of support and encouragement to pursue a completely new project in a foreign medium, things like Skin&Earth gloriously explode into the fandom at hand. Skin&Earth Volume One, collecting the first six issues of Lights’ concept-album-turned-comic-book, competes with and pays homage to the best graphic novels of our time while simultaneously pushing the medium’s boundaries with refreshing ideas.

Lights, best known for her Juno Award-winning music, released Skin&Earth in conjunction with her album of the same title. Each of the story’s chapters coincides with a track from the album. This connection is part of what makes the book so special, even though my longtime love for Lights’ work may have swayed my enjoyment of the story toward the positive end of the spectrum. Still, in the interest of being fair, I’ll explore the book as a standalone work.

Skin&Earth weaves its tale in a post-apocalyptic land ravaged by literal toxicity, where humanity divides itself into two distinct sectors: Pink and Red. Pink Sector citizens revel in luxury and take pills to keep the landscape’s poison from killing them while they’re young…or just to get high. Maybe both. Red Sector citizens live outside the Pink Sector walls. They’re allowed into the Pink Sector for work or school, but they must wear masks and keep to a strict curfew. The Pink Sector is effectively ruled by Tempest, a corporation that makes the pills that protect Pink Sector folks from toxins…toxins whose effects are exacerbated by Tempest, if not downright caused by the company’s deeds. It’s pretty clear from the start, though, that Pink Sector people barely tolerate the Red Sector denizens.

Protagonist Enaia Jin (En, for short) attends Tempest University in the Pink Sector, otherwise spending her time in the dilapidated Red zone and the surrounding forest with her mysteriously aloof friend/lover, Priest. Her life is painted as unremarkable but enjoyable. En is a refreshing and a welcome herald for this story. She’s comfortable with herself but wears her insecurities in a strikingly human way, and her sense of self-worth despite her shortcomings bleeds into every panel and every sentence of dialogue. When relatable characters and post-apocalyptic settings meet, sparks fly; the first pages of Skin&Earth represent a flurry of sparks that ignite the whirlwind narrative and sustain the flame through every beat. En’s experiences open the floodgates to a veritable onslaught of world-building, strong characters, and poignant story elements.

Within the book’s first panels, Lights flexes her poetic license and exercises a tight grip on her carefully mapped narrative. Her newcomer status plays to her benefit, giving her the freedom to weave unpredictable story elements into the narrative. Lights bends expectations to create a storytelling environment where deviations from the norm are at once expected and welcome. For example, En’s relationship with Priest sets the stage for an intriguing and mysterious character who makes an appearance later, superseding typical guy-girl banter fodder. In other words, Lights cares little for normative ideas, ushering in fresh opportunities that circumvent typical comic book fare. She treats readers to a tale that subverts expectations, encourages thoughtful analysis of character behaviors, and unabashedly shares her deepest emotions. En serves as a conduit for Lights here, and the resulting characterization and storytelling creates a compelling narrative arc. To the story’s benefit, En’s status as a Red Sector native is cast aside quickly in favor of deeper explorations of the world’s lore. Immediately upon learning Skin&Earth’s basics, I yearned for details about the politics, relationships, and general goings-on instead of drab classroom scenes. Lights delivers this in spades, favoring the world’s best parts over those that could easily slip into a den of cliches.

All that said, Skin&Earth still displays telltale signs that it’s a debut rather than a seasoned veteran’s project. Narrative burden disproportionately falls on the dialogue, and exposition runs rampant as huge plot points surface. By no means does this dominate the novel’s storytelling, but it’s just prevalent enough to be a slight distraction. Should Lights follow this up with more stories from the Skin&Earth universe, I hope she’ll lean more heavily on the art to fill in some of the narrative gaps instead of explaining them away in verbose dialogue.

Skin&Earth isn’t perfect, but it’s a testament to the sheer force of a creative mind set loose in unfamiliar territory. Successful in nearly every way, the story explodes with creativity and originality while paying homage to its genre.

Rating: Skin&Earth by Lights–8.5/10
-Cole