I just received a copy of Raquelle Jac’s comic Bimbo Agitprop in the mail. I’m supposed to review it. But what do I say? I don’t review a lot of books. I certainly don’t review a lot of graphic novels. Movies are easy to review; you can talk about the plot, the acting, camera movement, how the film looks and sounds. With comics, all you have is the story and the art. And this story, well, the plot is all over the place, and the art is…well, I don’t know how to talk about art. But I’ve got to get it reviewed. But first I need to do the dishes. And check my email and socials. Oh, and a new episode dropped of that TV show I like. What if I get this thing written and nobody reads it? What if it goes viral and all the comic-book nerds hate it and they attack me? What if Raquelle Jac reads it and she hates it? What if she likes it? Oh God. Why did I request to review this?
Buy Bimbo AgitpropBimbo Agitprop is a strong, singular work from an artist who is just getting started. It is autobiographical, diary-like at times, yet also self-critical in real time. It tells Jaq’s story of growing up with an abusive mother who clearly has mental-health issues, a cruel stepmother, and a father who closes his eyes and turns his head the other way. She endures all of this while trying to grow up, figure out who she is, and what kind of artist she’d like to be. And survive.
It is a lot to take in. The details of abuse are overwhelming. Her mother is extremely religious and paranoid. She’ll suddenly declare someone is watching them and force Jaq into the car to go on a long drive. Any friend of Jaq’s she doesn’t like (and she doesn’t like any of them) is declared to have a demon, and she’s forbidden to hang out with them anymore. She’ll strap cloves of garlic to Jaq’s skin in some effort to prevent some perceived health issue. She’ll lock Jaq in her room for hours at a time.
Jaq’s stepmom is just as cruel. Constantly finding ways to put her down, to belittle Jaq as a child and teenager. There is gaslighting and streams of obscenities. Her father does nothing to stop it and sometimes partakes. Jaq thinks this is so he can continue to have sex with the stepmom.
Like I say, it is a lot to take in. Jaq fills each page with tons of information. Word bubbles twist and wrap around the art. There are authorial asides and detailed labels for her drawings. The artwork reminds me of R. Crumb or other underground artists I’ve never heard of. I want to call it “outsider art,” but to be honest, I don’t really know what that means. I think I saw it on a Simpsons episode once. It is a mix of black and white and color. Sometimes the pencil work looks unfinished. On a single page, some of the words will be bolded and easy to read; others look faded, and I struggled to read them at all.
It isn’t all horror. There are moments of kindness and kinship. Toward the end, she goes to a party thrown by the Flaming Lips and Miley Cyrus compliments her boots. But then sometimes those who start as friends end up as enemies. Kindness has a way of turning into abuse. I had a hard time reading it at times. Often, I had to put it down for a while and take a rest.
Jaq’s writing style is a mix of self-confessional and self-awareness. She begins the book with a long prologue in which she talks us through how she finally got a deal to write this book and is terrified of screwing it up. (I did a poor job of mimicking it in my opening paragraph.) As she tells the story of her difficult childhood, she often adds in these little asides. She’ll describe something horrible her mother did to her and, with her adult eyes, recognize what type of abuse it was, or wish she had fought back instead of complying. There are times when she’ll comment about how embarrassing a scene was to draw, or how it fills her with emotion. It is very much a book written by a millennial. Many of those asides are labeling others in the book as racists, sexist, homophobic, etc. Not that those people don’t deserve those labels; it just feels very millennial to point them out constantly. At one point, she draws an imaginary scene of her younger self fantasizing about other people’s relationships. Then she adds an aside apologizing that all those people were drawn as white and straight. Again, all of that is fine; it just amused this old Gen X’er.
Which is, perhaps, a recognition that this book wasn’t entirely meant for me. It is a young-person’s story told in a young person’s way. I still found it to be powerful and raw. An astonishing debut. But also overwhelming and a bit exhausting. This isn’t comfort comics. It is raw and serious, powerful and disturbing. It is a bold, potent book by an artist full of grit and anger, passion and courage. I can’t wait to see what she writes next.
