The Strange Ones

December 23, 2019
This arch coming-of-age graphic novel, originally serialized in zines in the 1990s and completed in the 2010s, unfolds predictably unevenly with flashes of poetry. Gen X hipsters Anjeline and Franck meet at a Belly concert and keep crossing paths until they become friends, despite Franck’s scowling pose of disinterest. They swap sardonic in-jokes and explore New York City together, hitting the Cloisters, the Staten Island Ferry, a screening of The Rocky Horror Picture Show, and hole-in-the-wall diners. In this gentle, nostalgic vision of the 1990s alternative scene, “strangeness” doesn’t get much more extreme than wearing Army surplus and silly-walking like a Monty Python routine; Julie Doucet would eat these kids alive. The early chapters meander, but gradually the protagonists expose vulnerabilities and face the question of what kind of adults they want to become. Like the story, the art gets better as it matures, shuffling from scratchy alternative-zine hatching to strong, sure inks. Jusay wears his artistic influences, especially clean-line indie cartoonists such as Jaime Hernandez and Dan Clowes, on his sleeve. A comic produced over a 25-year period can’t help but show growing pains, but it’s hard not to share at least some of the artist’s love for the characters and the very particular time and place they inhabit.

Starred review from February 1, 2020

Riding the ferry home to Staten Island after a Radiohead concert in Manhattan, a lonesome college freshman named Anjeline spots a boy she recognizes from the show and introduces herself. His name is Franck. He wears combat boots, as well as a homemade Star of David on his trench coat, "in solidarity with Jews and their suffering from the Holocaust." The two become friends, and as they spend more time together--roaming museums, exploring the Cloisters, strolling the Brooklyn Heights promenade--Anjeline is intrigued by Franck's strange behavior. He's typically withdrawn and withholding but rambles when asked about literature or aerodynamics; he attempts to order haddock at every restaurant he visits, even McDonalds. Creator Jusay (animation for TV's Wonder Showzen; Superjail!) allows subtle dialog and quietly affectionate gestures to establish how vitally important Franck and Anjeline become to each other, making the sudden tragedy that befalls one of them achingly sad and the other's struggle to find peace in the aftermath sweetly poignant. VERDICT A sensitive, understated depiction of how miraculous it feels to encounter a soul similar to one's own.

Copyright 2020 Library Journal, LLC Used with permission.

March 15, 2020
Adding five new chapters to the comic published serially in his nineties zine, Karass, animation-designer Jusay completes his story of college-age friends Anjeline and Franck. Anjeline, who narrates, first notices "scowl boy" at a concert in Manhattan before their paths align on the long journey back to Staten Island, where they both live, and he walks her home in companionable silence. Following chapters find them becoming fast friends, with, for Anjeline at least, the undercurrent of something more. New material changes the story's direction significantly and adds a meta-ending that explains how the comic came to be. Jusay captures something essential here in Anjeline's feelings for Franck: that hard-to-articulate teenage fascination. Franck is less knowable. In all but one pivotal scene, his eyes are smudges of black?the only character Jusay draws this way. With depth and high visual interest, Jusay's black inking style is crisp and detailed for both figures and scenery, especially in the architecture of landmarks like the Cloisters, Brooklyn Bridge, and Staten Island Ferry. For old fans and new readers alike.(Reprinted with permission of Booklist, copyright 2020, American Library Association.)