Over the last few months, publishers have been recharging their batteries well. They are determined to populate the shelves of bookstores with excellent comics and to make it much more difficult to choose reading in the face of a quality that overflows like we have rarely seen in a market saturated with novelties.
Interior of the comic 'Planeta', by Ana Oncina. Ana Oncina (EDITORIAL PLANETA C
Science-fiction did not seem like a genre that the author from Alicante was going to go through in view of her previous career, but her incursion could not be more welcome. Ana Oncina does not hide her manga influences, both in the graphic and in the narrative, which serve as a scaffolding to focus on her good pulse and ease when it comes to approaching the intimate story in this story that explores the limits of what we understand as relationships. Love and friendship taken to the extreme of absolute isolation from the rest of humanity, in two stories that run parallel between an aseptic future of artificial intelligences and a warm present of books and conversations, which will intersect through dreams that break the barriers of space and time, but also of the real and the imagined. forcing the reader to reflect on which place they would choose.
Interior of the comic 'The Bird and the Snake', by Borja González. Borja Gonzalez (RESER PUBLISHING
We were still celebrating the brand new National Comic Award for the previous adventure of Teresa, Matilde and Laura, in Grito nocturno, when a new installment of this particular trilogy arrives on the shelves with which Borja González immerses us in a state of constant fascination, in this case taking its protagonists to a fairy tale where lights and spaces make up a poetic space in which expressive choreographies are traced that refer to arcane fears, to horror stories told in the light of a moon that casts shadows with a life of their own. It is difficult not to be drawn into that dance of music that is palpable in the vignette, to let oneself be intoxicated by the petrichor of the humid forest, to listen to the voices of its faceless characters who all say it with gestures and silences. Rhythms that are seen and strokes that are heard in an exercise of dazzling visual poetry.
Interior of the comic 'Roaming', by Jillian and Mariko Tamaki.Jillian and Mariko Tamaki (Edition
It could be a simple travel story, a New York tourist notebook or a youthful tale of complicit friendships with the crash of the big city in the background. Roaming could be any of those things and, in fact, it is, but the Tamaki have a special ability to transfer to their comics an overwhelming naturalness, which makes their characters so relatable and believable that the reader makes them their own. And what was a souvenir postcard, becomes the setting for a tranche de vie, of a vital moment in which the vignettes are faithful testimony of friendships and feelings, of how the relationships between people are convoluted constructions that can show a different profile depending on how we live them and, also, of that search for happiness that we find in the most unexpected corners with the things we thought were most insignificant.
Interior of the comic 'Lubianka', by Felipe Hernández Cava and Pablo Auladell. Felipe Hernández Cava and Pablo A
In I Am My Dream, Hernández Cava and Auladell explored the slippery path of personal choice in the face of horror through Luftwaffe pilot Erich Hafner. Fifteen years later, the same authors decide to go a step further in Lubyanka, exploring a choice already made, that of non-commissioned officer Volodia Gubin, who decides to destroy a life, body and soul. The setting, the terrible Stalinist prison where dissidents of Stalinism were purged, is in Auladell's hands a space of oppressive atmosphere that his outlines make almost unbearable. But Cava never makes it easy for the reader: Gubin is not only the executor of a totalitarian and destructive regime, he is also prey to selfish feelings that want to destroy the poet Yevgeny Petrovich Gogolyev for their own benefit. Where does evil nest then? Perhaps in the madness of a dictator, but also in the heart of the envious, perhaps in the very essence of the human being.
Interior of the comic 'Anamnesis', by Santiago Valenzuela. Santiago Valenzuela (EDITORIAL A
In the last twenty years, Santiago Valenzuela has been building with The Adventures of Captain Torrezno one of the most fascinating sagas of European comics, a personal universe in which the cartoonist rises as the maximum demiurge of civilizations that are erected on the fictions of popular culture, rummaging through the philosophy that governs the human being when he rests with his carajillo at the bar counter. which turns out to be not too different from that written by the great and most prestigious thinkers. Anamnesis continues in the construction of this particular micro-world from an ironic gaze, from a buried humour that transforms the skylight of the basement where everything takes place into a platonic window in which we can see that fictions and realities are confused and feed off each other, blurring their borders with the grease of a succulent torrezno. An indispensable work.
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