Book Review - Menopause: A Comic Treatment

All images courtesy of Penn State University Press

reviewed by Janis Be Breckenridge, Whitman College

Czerwiec, MK, ed. Menopause: A Comic Treatment, University Park, Pennsylvania State University Press, 2020, 135 pages, $29.95, ISBN: 978-0271087122.

 Shattering the silence and secrecy surrounding the ‘big change,’ Menopause: A Comic Treatment offers an unflinching look at an often stigmatized or taboo topic. For those unsure of the precise nature of the biological process, the National Library of Medicine defines menopause as “the time in a woman's life when her period stops. It usually occurs naturally, most often after age 45. Menopause happens because the woman's ovaries stop producing the hormones estrogen and progesterone.”

 This collaborative volume collects twenty-five highly distinct graphic works that vary in length from single-page comics to a sixteen-page illustrated narrative. Showcasing an array of personal experiences, the intimate stories convey multiple aspects of this biological event, from physical to psychological, hormonal to spiritual. While one author-protagonist somewhat anxiously anticipates perimenopause, the majority narrate the process as it unfolds or reflect upon it in hindsight. Most undergo menopause naturally, seemingly as a rite of passage, while others detail early onset, chemical, or surgical menopause. In parallel fashion, these testimonials run the gamut of emotional responses from confusion and frustration to curiosity and fascination. Even as some contributions narrate overcoming shame and ignorance, others insist upon jubilant celebration or assume a defiantly irreverent attitude. A particularly laudable characteristic of the anthology is the diversity of the contributors—across the spectrum of age, ethnicity, profession, sexual and gender identification, even expertise with comics creation itself—that have come together to share their wide-ranging perspectives. In short, Menopause: A Comic Treatment effectively illustrates how the complexities of menopause are anything but a singular experience.

 In a brief introductory essay, editor MK Czerwiec (known online as Comic Nurse) relates her own unpreparedness for the destabilizing effects of perimenopause and how failure to find adequate representation in popular culture led to the creation of this volume. Discovering a paucity of comics on the topic, and worse, that the few in existence were denigrating and judgmental, Czerwiec was determined to produce a work with a positive ethos aiming to help women understand their bodies, navigate the unknown, and foster a community of support. In her words, “A new collection of comics was needed—one that shared stories that might actually be helpful, stories that encourage those of us facing the symptoms of perimenopause to find our voices rather than remain silent, to invite us into strength rather than push us further into shame” (2). The result is the most recent of nineteen titles in Pennsylvania State’s pioneering Graphic Medicine book series which, as stated on their website, affirms “a growing awareness of the value of comics as an important resource for communicating about a range of issues broadly termed “medical.” 

 True to the spirit of the graphic medicine series, Menopause: A Comic Treatment effectively informs the reader by depicting real-world, lived experiences rather than touting medical jargon. Two contributions—not coincidentally those of medical practitioners themselves—directly incorporate the voices of healthcare and academic professionals, only to immediately turn away from specialized terminology and instead offer personalized responses as laypeople. Monica Lalanda’s comic, “When My Biological Clock Stopped Ticking,” opens with her discussing menopause “as a doctor” but the impenetrable language quickly degenerates into “blah blah blah” (26); her response “as a woman” immediately follows and provides the more relatable perspective maintained in the rest of the cartoon. 

Excerpt from “When My Biological Clock Stopped Ticking” by Monica Lalanda

 

 Similarly, Czerwiec’s “Burning Up” includes a full-page panel in which a professor of neurobiology lectures about the neurobiological functioning of the hypothalamus; the rest of the comic presents her personal and far more-accessible theory that the purpose of hot flashes is, and I cite her technical explanation verbatim here, “give-a-shits burning off” (34). Throughout the anthology, contributors share private thoughts, personal coping strategies, and individual ways of coming to terms with myriad symptoms including hot flashes, cold sweats, six-month-long periods, vaginal dryness, thinning hair and dry skin, vaginal atrophy, lack of sleep, etc. An absolute rejection of menopause as a pathology, however, becomes a common denominator across their stories. 

Excerpt from “Burning Up” by MK Czerwiec

 

 In representing the myriad ways that contributors maintain their “own styles for living through the challenges of perimenopause” (3), the volume showcases correspondingly divergent narrative and visual styles. Comics by newer and first-time artists are accompanied by those of veteran cartoonists whose work will be immediately recognizable to comics enthusiasts. Lynda Barry’s “Menopositive!” maintains the characteristic attributes of her unique genre of autobifictionalography by humorously revisiting traumatizing uncertainties of girlhood, cultural anxieties, and triumphant moments of self-discovery. 

Excerpt from “Menopositive!” by Lynda Barry

 

 Roberta Gregory’s contentious signature character, the angry and often crass Bitchy Bitch, makes an appearance (a reprint from her last Naughty Bits storyline, issue #40, 2004). Her bitter rant about first menses and the inconveniences of menstruation ends with manic glee at the prospect of burning feminine her hygiene products and never suffering with cramps or PMS again. And true to her own underground comix roots and work with Tits and Clits, Joyce Farmer offers a funny, potentially scandalous, sex-positive comic affirming not only that menopausal women get horny, they also know how to take care of themselves.

 An examination of the cover art reveals how the design anticipates the volume’s intimate content, complex intricacies, and often surprising juxtapositions. A blood-red overlay on a dramatically enlarged comic, together with the large white and yellow lettering that boldly announces the volume’s title—which seems to scream and leap off the page—confers a sense of urgency, if not a somewhat harsh, almost garish, quality. The strategically cropped reproduction of Teva Harrison’s “The Big Change” depicts a stand-up comedy routine in which the speaker verbally calls out and simultaneously acts out (bodily and through exaggerated facial expressions) myriad symptoms linked to this time in her life when “estrogen has left the building.” With an effective combination of sparse text and cartoonish close ups, each panel lingers on a single, specific indicator of perimenopause. Not coincidentally, hot flashes take center stage. In this way, the comedienne dramatically illustrates, with grace and humor, that menopause is no laughing matter. But the punchline, revealed only here within the comic, truly delivers a one-two punch: the speaker suffers sudden and acute symptoms as a result of surgical menopause, but finds vengeful solace in knowing that her suffering causes her cancer to suffer. The contributor biography at the book’s conclusion informs the reader that the original comic appeared in Harrison’s In -Between Days: A Memoir About Living with Cancer and, tragically, that the author later died of breast cancer. This poignant work, which weaves the volume together from start to finish, aptly conveys the anthology’s overall tone and structure. The comic exemplifies the creative blending of the personal and the clinical even as it graphically illustrates how serious complications can be treated with ludic undertones.

 Further highlighting the bewildering effects of menopause, graphic memoirist Mimi Pond uses techniques of exaggeration, distortion, and excess in “Women’s Carnival.” A middle-aged woman and her mother stumble upon a women-only funfair complete with a tunnel of love (whose red waters dry up before the ride is over), fun house mirrors (where the rapidly aging mother eventually becomes invisible), a mood swing (in which she insists that she never loved or perhaps feverishly loved her husband), and a hormone scrambler (a metaphor? ask the characters with ironic self-awareness). 

Excerpts from “Women’s Carnival” by Mimi Pond

 Pond’s bizarre carnival culminates with a freakshow that delivers scathing social critique. To the protagonists’ incredulity, rare women, true oddities—such as one who asked for and received a raise, another who can still wear her high school clothes, and another who confronted a coworker and received an apology—are put on display. The climactic highlight features a naked chorus of the world’s angriest women who take the stage to rage at having been discredited, objectified, and dismissed. The mother, visibly transformed after experiencing one wild ride after another, ultimately opts for the freedom and liberation of running away with this circus. These escapades, rendered in bright, flashy colors, demonstrate the absurdity and unpredictability of women’s biological cycles together with their unequal social status.

 Likewise exploring how women perceive themselves and are perceived by society, but now through the lens of gender and sexuality, two comics signal the need for greater inclusivity in discussions around menopause. For Ajuan Mance, uncertainties about when perimenopause will begin and what it will be like raise a unique set of questions as a gender non-conformist. In “Any Day Now” the genderqueer academic, self-described as a “woman-identified-gentleman-scholar” (66), points out that womanhood has been defined by doctors and poets primarily in relation to motherhood, fertility, and femininity. Reflecting on the shared (and unshared) professional and personal milestones experienced by members of a female cohort brings recognition of personally deriving identity more from intellectual adeptness and physical strength than reproductive functioning. With this insight, worries about being able to continue wearing favorite sweaters and ties during heat flashes shift to concerns about potential memory and dexterity losses more commonly associated with aging. The experimental comic, in which each page becomes a technical exercise in the shifting use of color to indicate changes in tone, time, and emotional states, foregrounds the reality that conversations around menopause presume a CIS gender identity.

Excerpt from “Any Day Now” by Ajuan Mance

 

 In a similar vein, trans author KC Councilor’s “Cycles” opens with a question that leaves him disconcerted: what is it like to go from a body that cycles to one that doesn’t? The comic then explores, in retrospect, the situation of being trapped in a female body, feeling aversion and loathing towards its regular cycles. A flashback reveals how this disconnect was externalized when her parents openly celebrated her first menses, an event that she experienced as a “bloody painful horror” (75). A more humorous disjuncture takes place during hormonal transitioning when, experiencing a period while using the men’s restroom, he nearly pelts another man as he tosses a bloody tampon into the trash. The final panel poses a disarming inversion to the comic’s opening as he poses a comparably jarring question, one that will likely give the reader pause: “What does it feel like to relate to the body you’re in?” (77). 

Excerpt from “Cycles” by KC Councilor.

 

 The publication of Menopause: A Comic Treatment is particularly timely if the Washington Post’s Wellness section is any indication. Several recent articles address the topic, citing the importance of normalizing conversations around menopause in order to ensure that women get the care, guidance, and support they need to safely manage disruptive symptoms. “Why Everyone Needs to Know More about Menopause - Especially Now” (June 29, 2020) laments women’s lack of knowledge and discusses the positive, stress-reducing impact open discussions around perimenopause can have, pointing to how this is especially critical during the pandemic when anxiety and depression are on the rise. “Experts are Cheering Michelle Obama’s Openness about Hot Flashes. And They Have Some Advice” (August 20, 2020) again underscores the value of open discussions and praises the former First Lady for being forthright about her own experiences, while “Another Routine the Pandemic has Disrupted: Your Period” (August 24, 2020) offers anecdotal evidence of increased irregularity in women’s cycles due to the stresses of the pandemic.

 Indeed, centered on the intersection of women’s bodies and real-life experiences, Menopause: A Comic Treatment heeds this urgent call for candid and frank discussion, sharing information and resources, and forming supportive networks. As this review has hopefully made clear, each comic offers a unique and particular response to perimenopause. Yet through these intimately personal if not openly confessional tales, several overlapping themes emerge. These include flashbacks to the uncertainties and fears that surrounded first menses, encountering the invisibility that awaits the aging female in society, coming to terms with myriad symptoms, and ultimately discovering a newfound sense of liberation and freedom. Contributors give voice to uncertainties and fears, but often feature protagonists who overcome shame or ignorance to ultimately find satisfaction, gaining both empowerment and independence. In short, these women come to accept if not embrace this transitional period (no pun intended). MK Czerwiec’s groundbreaking anthology successfully achieves her important goals of breaking silences, exposing secrets, and drawing together individuals to create a community of knowledge. The many laughs along the way are an added bonus. 

Janis Be, Professor of Hispanic Studies, specializes in socially committed narrative and visual cultural production. Her scholarship on Spanish-language comics, which has appeared in IJOCA, ImageText, Ciberletras, Chasqui, Confluencia and Ergocomics, covers such diverse topics as Argentine feminism, the Spanish Civil War, childhood recollections of Pinochet’s Chile, Alzheimer’s, addiction, and traumatic memory. Versions of this review will appear online and in print in IJOCA 22:2.

Book review - The Wakanda Files. A Technological Exploration of the Avengers and Beyond.

 

Benjamin, Troy. The Wakanda Files. A Technological Exploration of the Avengers and Beyond. Epic Ink, 2020. 160 pages. ISBN: 978-0-7603-6544-1. $60.00.

 reviewed by Aaron Ricker

Troy Benjamin is the author of the Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Declassified book series, and a contributor to the Official Guidebook to the Marvel Cinematic Universe. His new book The Wakanda Files is, like these other titles, an illustrated look at the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) aimed at fans in a hardcover book with plastic slipcase.* The book’s creative conceit presents The Wakanda Files as a collection of top-secret intelligence assembled by the royal scientists of Wakanda (a fictional African kingdom featured in the MCU, led by the Black Panther). The high-tech information thus collected by Wakandan spies and scientists is arranged into five sections: “Human Enhancement” (pages 4-69), “Weapons” (70-105), “Vehicles” (106-129), “AI and Mind Control” (130-143), and “Energies and Elements” (144-162). Chapter 1 therefore presents data on how Steve Rogers was transformed into Captain America, for example, and Chapter 2 talks about the development of his shield. Chapter 3 includes a discussion of the ups and downs of Howard Stark’s flying cars, and Chapter 4 highlights the AI breakthroughs (lucky and otherwise) achieved by Tony Stark. Chapter 6 presents some of the most fantastical science of all, including wonders like the fictionalized powers of palladium and the “Infinity Stones” whose blatantly magical character does not even get a perfunctory scientific fig leaf.

 

As this list of representative items suggests, the focus of The Wakanda Files is squarely on the MCU and the Avengers. The book’s subtitle touts it as “a technological exploration of the Avengers and beyond,” but the scope of its attention never extends far beyond the marvels of the Avengers-related movies. Even the illustrations are often just screenshots from the films, run through various Photoshop filters. If Wakanda has been patiently collecting data on exotic science related to human enhancement for years, one might ask, why do these files include no mention of achievements like Dr. Doom’s ultra-high-tech armour? The answer seems to be that the narrative focus of The Wakanda Files is restricted by the marketing needs of the real world outside the MCU: the Fantastic Four movies were (by MCU standards) commercial flops, and done by a rival studio which controlled the intellectual property. Hot Marvel properties that are fresh in people’s minds from the Avengers blockbusters are more likely to sell books.

 

The presentation of The Wakanda Files is not only limited by the MCU’s Avengers high-tech context in terms of the fictional technologies deemed worthy of attention. As intimated above with reference to the Infinity Stones, the book is also noticeably shaped by the way the Avengers movies tend to casually “retcon” the magic found in their source material as exotic science. On the very first page, chief scientist Shuri-Kimoyo specifies that the goal of the project is to “bring our planet the forefront of technology and innovation” (Wakanda Files, p. 3). The first file presented, though, is about the magic herb that allows the Black Panther to “access the ancestral plane” (Wakanda Files, pp. 6-7).

 

As a result of this artistic, or commercial, decision to accept the MCU’s preference for non-explanations, The Wakanda Files squanders some of its potential. A book about science (and) fiction can help scratch the hobbyist’s itch for collection and escapism. Such a book can also serve at times, though, to inform and inspire. It can give readers a pleasant chance to marvel at how elegantly the fantasy has been made to dance with the hard science. The lazy approach that The Wakanda Files picks up from the MCU shrugs off this opportunity. In Chapter 3, for example, Howard Stark explains that Captain America’s shield is bulletproof because it’s “[c]ompletely vibration absorbent” (p. 72). What do readers interested in scientific information gain from the suggestion that bullets are dangerous due to vibrations as opposed to their weight and speed?

 

At times, the loss in terms of potential infotainment value is exacerbated by losses in narrative coherence. According to The Wakanda Files, for example, the Bifrost bridge from Asgard to Earth controlled by the thunder god Thor is an Einstein-Rosen wormhole – an idea floated as theory in the movies and repeated here as fact. As such, the Bifrost is said to permit travel through space and time (pp. 80, 149). In narrative terms, though, this picture just doesn’t work. If Thor had the ability to open portals for time travel, the Avengers wouldn’t have needed to spend so much time and energy building a time machine (the very device discussed on pages 59-61 of The Wakanda Files). Now and then, this unfortunate streak of intellectual laziness drags the book down to the level of absurdity. In Chapter 3, for example, the reader is presented with Dr. Hank Pym’s plans to become smaller than an atom, which for some reason include worrying about how breathable the air might be. “Oxygen levels within the Quantum Realm are undetermined,” Pym notes (p. 129). This is a truly bizarre concern to attribute to a brilliant scientist. How many oxygen molecules per billion is he hoping to inhale, once he’s smaller than an oxygen molecule? The services of a good scientific advisor/editor would have come in handy at such points.

 

On a less serious, but nevertheless distracting and disappointing note, The Wakanda Files also suffers from a lack of basic editing. In Chapter 1, the head of the German super-soldier program is found writing, “I need resources. I need men” (p. 12). Two pages later, the head of the American super-soldier program writes, “We need resources. We need men” (p. 14). In Chapter 2, SHIELD agent Phil Coulson recommends copying Asgardian tech because “we’ll want to fight fire with fire” (p. 95). Two pages later, he also recommends copying Asgardian tech because “we’ll want to fight fire with fire” (p. 97). Proofreading mistakes appear in every section. Benjamin writes “burying the lead” as opposed to “the lede” (p. 142), for instance, and invents the new English expression “of which I’m familiar” (pp. 123, 146). In short, the timing of The Wakanda Files seems wise from a sales point of view - hot on the heels of the movies and ready for holiday sales - but a less derivative and more precise approach could have provided fans and students of comics culture with a more enjoyable read while enriching the backstory of the MCU.

 

*editor’s note – Ricker’s review was written from an advance copy pdf. His comments with page citations have been checked and confirmed against the final text. The finished book also comes with a small ultraviolet light designed as Wakandan technology with which the reader can find concealed messages. The plastic slipcase is necessary to hold the light together with the book. A version of this review will appear in print in IJOCA 22:2.

Book Review - Pearl Jam: Art of Do the Evolution

 

Pearson, Rob. Pearl Jam: Art of Do the Evolution. San Diego: IDW Publishing, 2020.  158 pp. US $39.99 ISBN 978-1-63140-741-3

Reviewed by Cord A. Scott, UMGC-Korea

Media often influence other forms of entertainment in unexpected ways.  People get ideas from one kind, such as film, and after a creation of something monumental may influence other media, such as music videos.  If something is truly effective, it will evoke both homages as well as parodies.  An animated video was produced to accompany the Pearl Jam song “Do the Evolution” from the album Yield, and its impact has been long lasting.  It was the creative process for the video, and its later influence, that is the subject of the book The Art of Do the Evolution published by IDW Publishing (which was reviewed as an incomplete advance copy).

Pearson’s chapters go into the creative process, as well as the production of the video, and finally the editing and resulting corporate censorship process. He also uses production notes, and interviews with the principle players to show the overall impact of the video. 

The song was inspired by the book Ishmael by Daniel Quinn. The premise of the story was a discussion of humanity between a man and an ape named Ishmael, with the ape serving as a Socrates-like figure who notes that humanity has developed along two different tracks: the Leavers, who live closer to nature, and the Takers, who are slowly destroying everything through their own greed.  These story points in Ishmael also figured into the animated music video. 

One of the more interesting aspects of Pearson’s book was his look at how the video came about.  Eddie Vedder wrote the song, but also edited his own homemade video of the song by using the images from Todd McFarlane’s animated adaptation of the comic book Spawn.  This series, which ran on HBO, was far darker and more violent than a standard cartoon and Vedder liked the raw intensity of combining the images and the song. This rough video became the base from which the creative process of the finished video began.

When the video first aired in September of 1998, it was a sensation for a variety of reasons. Simply put, it was called “A four-minute history of mankind for stoners.” (p. 137) While the video may have appeared as a forceful depiction of evolution, the imagery was far more nuanced if one scrutinized it. The video is already striking, but there are even more details when one looks closely into it and this book allows that.

As a continuing theme of the book, the artwork executed under the guidance of Epoch Studios was also a change from the norm.  One aspect of this change was the mixing of animation styles. Jim Mitchell trained in the Disney studio style. Brad Coombs was from the intermediary realm of Tim Burton-style animation, which used both traditional drawings as well as stop-action models. The Japanese animation of Hiyao Miyazaki, as well as the overall style of Japanese and Korean anime, influenced Kalvin Lee, who was the final part of the creative team.  These artists all merged their talents into the production process. By utilizing a series of styles from all the forms, and by using other short cuts, they were able to meet their twelve-week deadline from concept to broadcast.

A substantial part of the book centers on the sketches of the storyboards and how these initial images developed into the final product.  These creative decisions also influenced the development of the video, through the character of the “death girl.”  This character was inspired by the character “Death” from Neil Gaiman’s comic book Sandman, as well as Spawn’s wife in the HBO cartoon.

What was of far more interest to me was how the various forces, such as MTV or the Sony record label wanted alterations of the images.  While some symbols were changed, such as the swastikas from the Nazi soldiers, or the American markings on a strafing aircraft, other images were found to be too disturbing and were therefore removed completely.  The most significant of these was the image of barbarians destroying a bust of a Roman leader. 

What remained even after the corporate censors went through the video was both surprising and curious.  Much of the discussion between the creators centered on the “trailer trash man” watching acts of sexual violence in a virtual reality mode.  As he watches the violence, he squeezes his beer, simulating sexual release.  That this sequence remained in was rather surprising to the creative staff.  The other moment was at the very end, where the screen went black and all that was heard was a cricket chirping.  MTV had a policy of never allowing black screens, but it remained. This simple ending acts to recall the cycle of life. 

The video has had an impact on both the music video industry while also inspiring a wide variety of imitations and admirers.  The animators of the Simpsons took the video and turned it into one of their opening sequence gags with a similar, toned-down version of the song to accompany it. 

Overall, the strength of the book is that it shows how the creative process was an interactive one, especially at a time when the industry was still “evolving” (pun intended).  At the same time, it also demonstrated how Eddie Vedder was far more creative, and knowledgeable, of the video editing process than many may assume.  His singular vision and final cut control were also factors that ensured the desired outcome.

While the book was interesting, there were some issues such as some of the stories being repetitive. Granted, they were from the different creators involved, but tighter editing would have helped. For me, the same issue was the use of storyboards and sketches which were interesting, but redundant after a while. Too many of them seemed repetitive.

In all, the intersection of so many media and influences (music, videos to accompany music, comic books, cartoons, etc.) shows how the process of this short film is itself a type of evolution.  Ultimately, that is a hopeful idea of humanity, as well as the goal of Vedder and all those involved in the creative process.

Film Review: "I Am Still Your Child" featuring cartoonist Von Allan

Von Allan

I Am Still Your Child. Megan Durnford (writer/director). CatBird Films, 2018. 45:00. <http://iamstillyourchild.com/>

 
Lim Cheng Tju / CT Lim

As a genre, graphic medicine is on the ascendance and within that genre, comics on mental health are gaining prominence especially given how the recent global covid-19 crisis has affected mental wellbeing. Recently I moderated a panel on comics and mental health, featuring Singapore artists, Sonny Liew, James Tan, Anngee Neo and Mak Kean Loong.

 I Am Still Your Child, a 45-minute Canadian documentary written and directed by Megan Durnford, was released in 2018, and is a haunting testimony of children who had to take care of their parents who suffered from mental illness. It features three individuals in this situation – Sarah, a high school student; Jessy, an art student who is also in a band; and Von Allan, a comic book artist who self-publishes his own comics. Out of the three, Sarah and Jessy are still taking care of their parents while Von’s mother passed away in the 1990s when he was a young adult.

 While Sarah and Jessy’s stories are very powerful, our focus is on Von. Allan is a Canadian comic artist based in Ottawa. Comics helped him to survive a traumatic childhood. Superhero titles such as The X-Men were an escape for him -- something to keep him sane during the trying times. He struck out on his own at 18, worked in an independent bookstore, and learned to draw comics late in life. His mother passed away at the age of 48 in 1994 and 15 years later, Von’s first graphic novel, The Road To God Knows, was self-published and is a semi-autobiographical tale of a teenager’s relationship with her mentally-ill mother.

 The book led Megan Durnford to contacting Von in 2015 to be in a documentary she was making on individuals like Von -- children who had to take care of their parents who were manic depressive and suffering from bipolar disorder. While Sarah and Jessy were still going through their challenging family situations, Von showed what it is to survive such an experience. And it is reaffirming to see – one can get through this and still learn something valuable from it. As Von shared, “I think that the most positive impacts on my life is that it just gave me more sensitivity."

 Durnford had wanted to use images from the book in the documentary, but Allan was uncomfortable with that as he felt his early work was too rough. As a compromise, he redrew selected pages which was used in the film. On his website, Von shared the process here with a side by side comparison of the 2009 version with the 2017 redrawn pages. <https://www.vonallan.com/2017/09/on-getting-stronger.html>

 Surprisingly, Allan is not the first to tackle such a topic in Canadian comics. Chester Brown also drew about his schizophrenic mother in I Never Liked You (originally serialized as “Fuck” in Yummy Fur in the 1990s).

 I had not read Von Allan’s comics before and watching this documentary has made me curious about his work. Unfortunately The Road To God Knows is out of print, but his newer comics are for sale on his website or on Comixology. Some can be read for free online on his website. <https://www.vonallan.com/p/comics.html>

 You can watch I Am Still Your Child for free if you are in Canada. Or you can buy the DVD from the official website. The film website provided this sobering fact: “More than half a million of Canada’s frontline mental healthcare “workers” are less than twelve years old. They’re called COPMI – Children of a Parent with Mental Illness – and there are 575,000 of them in Canada.” This is an important issue and a documentary definitely worth watching.

 A version of this review will be in print in IJOCA 22:2.