Graphic Novel Review: Surrounded: America’s First School for Black Girls, 1832

 reviewed by John Craig

Wilfrid Lupano and Stéphane Fert. Surrounded:  America’s First School for Black Girls, 1832. New York:  NBM Publishing, 2025. 144 pp. US $24.99 (Hardcover). ISBN:  978-1-6811-2348-6. https://nbmpub.com/products/surrounded

Wilfrid Lupano’s Surrounded, illustrated by Stéphane Fert, is a graphic novel that explores themes of resistance, education, and racial injustice in the antebellum United States. The story is centered on the Canterbury Female Boarding School, the first school for Black girls in America, founded in 1832 by abolitionist, Prudence Crandall. The visual storytelling plays a crucial role in shaping the narrative, and the artwork enhances the story’s emotional weight. Fert’s distinctive and unconventional color palette adds depth to the storytelling, though the distinction between Black and White characters could have been more pronounced. The Black characters are depicted in light brown tones, whereas the White characters are rendered in a blend of purple and dark pink hues. While visually intriguing, a stronger contrast might have provided additional clarity in representation. One of the most notable elements of the graphic novel is its opening, which features an excerpt from The Confessions of Nat Turner by Thomas R. Gray. This choice immediately situates the graphic novel within the historical narrative of Black resistance. One of the key questions that arises while reading Surrounded is its intended audience. The themes and subject matter suggest it is unsuitable for young children, implying that it is aimed at middle school readers or older.

However, despite this assumed readership, the language remains relatively restrained. Given the graphic novel’s historical setting--the 1830s--it is surprising that it does not engage more directly with the racial terminology of the time. During this period, African-Americans would have most commonly been referred to as “Negro” or “Colored” rather than “Black.” Moreover, on Southern plantations, the n-word would have been prevalent. A bolder engagement with period-accurate language could have enhanced the graphic novel’s historical realism. Lupano also deliberately decides to forgo the use of “slave dialect” in the dialogue. While historically accurate dialect can add authenticity, it often risks reinforcing outdated stereotypes or becoming a distraction for readers. However, the graphic novel inconsistently incorporates elements of “slave vernacular” in certain moments, while predominantly using modern language. This inconsistency raises questions about the graphic novel’s linguistic choices--Lupano might have benefited from either fully committing to historical dialect or exclusively using modern language for accessibility.

The book’s depiction of anti-abolitionist sentiment in Connecticut is historically accurate and highlights an often-overlooked reality. While Boston was a major center of abolitionist activity, New England was not uniformly abolitionist. Many White Northerners, including those in Connecticut, were indifferent to, or actively resisted, Black liberation despite the presence of vocal abolitionist movements. However, strong opposition to abolition existed even in Northern states, making the graphic novel’s choice to highlight Connecticut’s resistance an important and accurate representation of the complexities of the time. Although the graphic novel successfully portrays the dangers faced by Black Americans in the antebellum North, it overlooks several key aspects of African-American resistance and survival during this period. Plantation owners in the South were deeply fearful of slave rebellions and conspiracies, and Nat Turner’s rebellion was only one of many uprisings that occurred. The graphic novel does not address the broader landscape of resistance, such as:

 

• The New York Slave Revolt of 1712
• The Denmark Vesey Plot of 1822
• David Walker’s Appeal in 1829
• The Amistad slave ship rebellion in 1839
• The Creole slave mutiny of 1841
• The role of Maroon communities--escaped Africans who established independent settlements throughout the South and the Caribbean.

 

Additionally, the graphic novel does not acknowledge the impact of the “Fugitive Slave Act of 1793,” which allowed enslavers to capture fugitives across state lines, making life in the North perilous for free and escaped Black individuals. Furthermore, Surrounded does not engage with the widespread influence of the Haitian Revolution (1791-1804), which profoundly shaped the fears of Southern enslavers and led to harsher restrictions on enslaved people in the U.S. Acknowledging these broader historical events could have provided a more nuanced and layered representation of the period.

As the graphic novel progresses, it exhibits patterns commonly seen in works by White creators depicting civil rights struggles or resistance during slavery. While Lupano’s intentions seem well-meaning, Surrounded risks centering whiteness in a narrative that should prioritize Black voices. The story increasingly shifts its focus to a White female teacher at the school, framing much of the narrative around the risks she takes rather than the agency of the Black girls she teaches. This structure echoes White savior narratives seen in films, such as “The Help” and “Dangerous Minds,” where Black struggles are filtered through the lens of White benevolence. From an Afrocentric perspective, the graphic novel misses an opportunity to present Black people as the primary agents of their own liberation. The theory of Afrocentricity, developed by Molefi Kete Asante, emphasizes the importance of centering Black perspectives and highlighting Black agency in historical narratives. Black individuals in the antebellum period actively sought education and devised ways to protect themselves from the dangers of White supremacy. Instead of fully exploring these dynamics, Surrounded leans too heavily on the perspective of its White protagonist, sidelining the Black women who should be at the center of this story.

Another significant omission in Surrounded is the presence of Black men. While the graphic novel depicts White men in heroic roles, protecting Black women and the school, there is a noticeable absence of Black men in these positions. Given the historical realities of the time, this absence raises questions about whether the graphic novel unintentionally reproduces stereotypes about Black male disengagement from the struggles of Black women. Historically, Black men actively participated in educational initiatives, abolitionist movements, and the broader fight for Black freedom. Their exclusion from the narrative suggests a missed opportunity to provide a more holistic representation of Black community resistance.

Certain character choices in the graphic novel also reflect familiar tropes found in narratives about the Black struggle. One such example is a Black male character who appears to embody internalized anti-Blackness. While it is true that some Black individuals internalized racist ideologies, his presence in the story feels more like a recurring archetype in White-authored narratives than a fully developed character. His eventual death reinforces an all-too-common trope in which such characters are included only to meet a tragic end. What this character contributes to the larger narrative is unclear beyond fulfilling a predictable storytelling pattern.

Additionally, the depiction of a divine Black female figure is both compelling and problematic. The moment in which a student envisions God as a woman of color is powerful in its subversion of Eurocentric religious imagery. However, the decision to depict her as nude is an odd and unnecessary creative choice. While artistic depictions of divine figures often engage with themes of vulnerability and purity, in this context, it raises concerns about the exoticization of Black women’s bodies.

Surrounded is an engaging graphic novel with a unique artistic style and compelling subject matter. The visual elements enhance the storytelling, adding emotional depth to key moments. The graphic novel succeeds in highlighting the hostility Black-Americans faced--even in the North--and brings attention to an important, often overlooked part of history. However, it also falls into several common pitfalls that often appear in White-authored stories about Black resistance. The overemphasis on White characters, the sidelining of Black women’s agency, and the exclusion of Black men all weaken its impact as a story about Black liberation. That said, Surrounded is a valuable contribution to historical fiction, as it brings attention to an important chapter in Black history. Stories like this play a crucial role in sparking conversations about history, representation, and the ongoing need to center Black voices in narratives of Black liberation.

Graphic Novel Review: Second Shift by Kit Anderson

 reviewed by Maite Urcaregui, Assistant Professor, San José State University

Kit Anderson. Second Shift. London:  Avery Hill Publishing, 2025. 160 pp. US $20.33. ISBN:  978-1-9173-5520-9. https://averyhillpublishing. bigcartel.com/product/second-shift-by-kit-anderson

 

         Kit Anderson’s Second Shift (2025) creates a science-fictional world in which a corporation named TERRACORP© terraforms “outpost plantet[s]” in the hopes of creating another Earth (30). The protagonist, Birdie Doran, works as a scientist on one of these outposts as part of a three-person crew that includes Heck and Porter. The crew maintains the mechanical “miners” and “farmers” and cares for greenhouses of moss, attempting to create the conditions necessary for human life on a frozen, wintery planet. Doran and crew are accompanied by a shape-shifting AI companion named Station that creates “a seamless, beautiful world” to distract the workers from their isolation and inhospitable surroundings (18). Ultimately, it’s the tensions and connections that arise between the crew, the corporation, and their environment (both natural and artificial) that make Second Shift so interesting. This sci-fi graphic novel opens conversations about corporate power, the exploitation of people and the environment, the limitations of AI, and the power of art that are all too pressing in our own non-fictional present.

Structurally, each chapter of Second Shift is prefaced with a black and white splash page that contains an excerpt from the “TERRACORP© for LIFE!” handbook, corporate propaganda that creates an ideological smokescreen to mask the dreary work conditions crew members face. Rhetorically, these splash pages achieve two things:  first, they flesh out the storyworld for the reader without using exposition, and second, they create a sense of suspense and surveillance. The entry that precedes Chapter Two, for instance, clarifies the nature of the crew’s work:

 

Your outpost planet has amazing potential for life; it’s overflowing with (frozen) water. It’s rich in lots of necessary minerals...and we’re taking care of the rest!

 

You can help, too! Care for your moss house; it’s making oxygen for you and your crew. Maintain the miners and farmers, so they can capture minerals and create soil. Because what’s Earth without...earth?

 

Sure, it may be a little cold outside, but that’s nothing a few years won’t fix. Just how many years is that?

 

Don’t worry about it! (30).

 

In the span of a splash page, readers have a clear understanding of the setting, a frozen outpost planet that’s not Earth, and the storyworld, a dystopian world in which conditions on Earth have necessitated the exploration of other planets. Just what those conditions are remain ambiguous and unanswered throughout the graphic novel, but the extractive corporate language might be a clue. Like so many of our real-world corporations, TERRACORP© extracts natural resources and exploits workers, selling them on the cruel optimism, to draw from Lauren Berlant, that their work is part of a greater good and evading the more unsavory realities. The reader can’t help but get pulled into this corporate narrative; the second person address speaks to both crew members and readers alike. Anderson’s insinuating use of the second person “you” reminds me of Inés Estrada’s Alienation, in which an implant called a “Google-Gland” speaks to characters and readers through the second person, creating a sense of inescapable surveillance. The corporate ideology that convinces workers that their work is “mysterious and important” also rings of the dark humor that has made Severance so popular.

In addition to indoctrinating them with corporate ideology, TERRACORP© also attempts to appease its workers by controlling their dreams and altering their realities. Through an excerpt from the “TERRACORP© for LIFE!” handbook, the opening splash page of the graphic novel informs readers:  “between shifts on TERRACORP© outposts, all crew members are dropped-in to our company-exclusive DreamSpace®. While inside, they can use their stasis time to brush-up on employee trainings, enjoy credit-earning promotions, and embark on specially-tailored dream* (0).

Even in their “stasis time,” the crew members can’t escape work. Their dreams are transformed into “employee trainings” and “promotions” and sold back to them as an exclusive perk. This “free-time” also isn’t free. An asterisk informs readers and employees that these so-called benefits are “subject to credit allowance.” The handbook acknowledges “the drop-out process,” the process of coming out of the DreamSpace® and re-entering reality, “can be a little unpleasant,” but it quickly brushes aside by asking, “ISN’T IT ALL WORTH IT?” (0). The corporate co-optation of workers’ dreams speaks to the voraciousness of late-stage capitalism, where leisure and dreams become just another playing field for profit. Porter, the whistle-blower on the crew, who quickly is dropped-in and drops out of the rest of the narrative sadly, draws attention to the blurred boundaries between DreamSpace® and work when he asks, “Dropped-in, dropped-out, what’s the difference, right?” (10).

TERRACORP© also alters the crew members’ realities during their working/waking moments. Their AI companion, Station, changes its form and enhances the environment based on the crew members’ preferences. For instance, when Doran is working in the moss house, she asks Station, “make the moss house a little more interesting,” to which Station replies, “Sure! You unlocked this one yesterday... You earned it!” (32-33). Station’s response speaks to the gamification of a system that asks workers to work harder for trivial perks (the sci-fi version of an office pizza party). This gamification of both work and leisure is reiterated paratextually on each chapter’s title page, which include pixelated icons as if out of a vintage video game.

While Doran is initially satisfied with this system, her colleagues, Porter and Heck, are more disillusioned, and much of the plot involves Heck pushing Doran to see past the artificial distractions that surrounds them. The fact that this fictional exploration of AI-generated visuals is told through comic form makes it even more powerful. The friction between AI-generated and artist-generated images comes to the fore in a scene toward the end of Chapter One. As Station guides Doran and Heck on a “sleeptrip,” the white gutter of the page turns to black as the characters move into sleep. The AI-generated dream, however, is of a human creating a landscape portrait from within its frame, painting the shades of the sky and drawing the details of a leaf before placing it onto a tree branch. The human behind the artwork is obscured, however. Readers never see their body in full, only zoomed-in shots of their isolated hands or legs. In the final splash panel of the portrait, the human is gone altogether. By turning the comics frame into the frame of a painting, Anderson uses the comics form to create a hand-made work of art that’s created by AI. It’s all very meta. Anderson artfully creates a Russian doll image that calls into question the role of AI in art and comics and draws attention to the dangers of disappearing the hands, or the labor, that produce it.

As the plot progresses, Doran and Heck begin to question if, “Terracorp is even still out there,” if they’ll “be left waiting for a signal that may never come. Just...dreaming” (69). The blurred boundaries between consciousness (both being awake and being aware) and dreaming (both literal and figurative) are at the heart of this sci-fi story. In this way, Second Shift, Anderson’s first full-length graphic novel, builds on her earlier work, largely independently-published minicomics, including the Ignatz-nominated “Weeds,” and a collection of comic short stories titled Safer Places (2024), also published by Avery Hill. In these earlier works, Anderson frequently uses science-fiction, magic, and fantasy to explore existential concepts, such as the nature of reality and the malleability of memory. Second Shift is an admirable addition to Anderson’s corpus. In it, Anderson effectively uses paratextual elements, chapter framings, and the narrative and visual structure of comics to pull in readers, keep them guessing, and have them questioning their own realities.

Book Review: Chinese Animation. Volume 1: Religion, Philosophy and Aesthetics

 

 reviewed by John A. Lent, editor and publisher, International Journal of Comic Art

 

Thomas Paul Thesen. Chinese Animation. Volume 1:  Religion, Philosophy and Aesthetics. Ahrensburg:  Thesensches Offizin, tredition GmbH, 2025. 822 pp. ISBN:  978-3-00-080811-1. https://www.chinese-animation.com/

      Thomas Paul Thesen’s Chinese Animation. Volume 1:  Religion, Philosophy and Aesthetics is worthy of the accolade, plentifulness--with 822 pages; 41 pages of references to works in Chinese and English; an index of about 820 characters tied to religion, film, animation, philosophy, and other areas; 1,301 information footnotes, and access to 143 landscape paintings, Chinese ink-wash, and other types of animation films, available through a digital version of figures. An added technical bonus is that the book is designed as reader-friendly with a larger type font, double-spacing, sturdy paper, and names of works in both English and Mandarin, and Chinese individuals’ names in the Latin alphabet, Chinese characters, and Pin’yin spelling.

Thesen is very up front when discussing how he went about putting the book together, stating that his not knowing Mandarin “can be rather sensitive as the texts permit various interpretations, which, of course, will steer away from the original meaning of the often ancient texts”; that his efforts to keep the philosophical and religious concepts” understandable, “rendered many of them superficial and often lacking depth,” and that his knowingly making broad statements “not necessarily accurate in all their details” was again meant to be understood by the layman, avoiding the complexities of some concepts in their original wording.

What the reader must be aware of, besides Thesen’s scholarly integrity, is that he has succeeded in transforming much theoretical, philosophical, and technical wording into highly-readable text, and has utilized the services of six Chinese translators to ensure accurate language, all of whom he lists on the imprint page--Ho Dan’yuan, Wang Lexie, Lee Hui En, Chan Yen Ly, Chan Ying Xuan, and Wu Zhi Yun.

In this masterfully-crafted volume, Thesen meticulously explains China’s major teachings (Confucianism, Daoism, Chinese Buddhism, and folk religion), as well as “The Six Principles of Painting” (spirit-harmony-life-motion, bone manner by use of the brush, conformity with objects in portraying forms, follow characteristics in applying color, plan-design the place-position, and transmit-propagate models by sketching), laid down by Qi and Liang dynasties painter Xie He (active, ca. 500-535), and the additional aesthetic principles (naturalness and regularity, openness and suggestiveness, emptiness and substance, blandness, perspective and depth, and realism). In each instance, the author enlightens the reader with information about the evolution of these teachings and principles, as well as paintings and animated films related to them.

All of this background leads up to the main thrust of Chinese Animation…, the unique traditional Chinese ink-wash painting, and its spinoff to animation. Thesen spends considerable wordage on landscape painting as the cradle of ink-wash art, beginning with Six Dynasties (220-589) artist and musician Zong Bing’s initial description of landscape painting, through the Tang (618-907), Song (960-1279), Ming (1368-1644), and Qing (1644-1911/12) dynasties, going into detail about various painters’ lives and their works and some animated films that appeared later.

China’s major contribution to world animation, ink-wash, constitutes the fourth, and last part of the book, analyzing the country’s ten examples--“Where Is Mama?” (1960), “Little Swallow” (1960), “The Cowherd’s Flute” (1963), “The Deer’s Bell” (1982), “Feelings of Mountains and Waters” (1988), “The Foolish Scholar Shopping For Shoes” (1979), “Squirrel Barber” (1983), “Jia Er Sells Apricots” (1984), “36 Chinese Characters” (1984), and “Lanhua’hua” (1989). Normally, “Where Is Mama?” “The Cowherd’s Flute,” “The Deer’s Bell,” and “Feelings of Mountains and Waters” are designated as the only ink-wash productions; Thesen’s inclusion of six shorter works adds to future research possibilities.

To satisfy this reviewer’s futile attempt to find a shortcoming of Thesen’s work, perhaps, if he had interviewed ink-wash animators during his decades of research, their views would have added more authority to his findings. However, to overload him with this task, would be like having a railway maintenance worker of old, who had just put in a full day tamping ties and laying rails, then proceed to the coal mine to start his ten-hour shift. A bit exaggerated, but you get the point. Thesen does include quoted material of animators, such as Duan Xiaoxuan and Te Wei, gathered by other scholars.

Chinese Animation. Volume 1:  Religion, Philosophy and Aesthetics is a one-of-a-kind trough of facts, theories and concepts, history, and viewpoints on Chinese landscape painting, ink-wash and other animation forms, and the teachings and principles endemic to China and its art, all tied together, free of academese, presented in a flowing style, abounding in fascinating side stories, rigorously researched, and scrupulously analyzed. It is a “must” for university libraries and researchers and students serious about animation as a field of study, and a “highly-recommended” for those fascinated by Chinese culture.