Review: Americus by M.K. Reed and Jonathan Hill

Americus - M.K. Reed (w) Jonathan Hill (a)

First Second, $14.99, 978-1-59643-601-5

This has been a long journey for M.K. Reed and Jonathan Hill.  Americus started life as a short strip in Tugboat Press’s long-running Papercutter anthology back in 2008.  Since then, it has grown into a serialized webcomic and now, a fully-fledged graphic novel from (as the authors are proud to proclaim) a mainstream publisher.  It’s a charming tale of small-town oppression as Neil, a bookish outsider, enters Junior High School and finds that the only positive thing in his life — the latest Apathea Ravenchilde novel — is under threat from a group of anxious parents, who think it promotes Satanism. It’s Neil’s struggle against the banning of the book that provides the thrust of the plot, and a springboard for the creators to explore the foibles of adolescence.

The themes of censorship, adolescent rebellion and self-discovery are timeless and practically embedded in the DNA of western culture.  Every fresh intake of 8^th graders find something precious and influential in their lives — usually books, music, TV shows or video games — has become the easily-excised scapegoat for their rampaging hormones. To censor, ban or burn these things is like cutting off a limb, for it’s these escapes that often ground the teenage identity and often seem more vivid than real life.  This is wonderfully grounded by Hill’s illustrations in Americus as, when Neil delves into his Apathea novels, the art changes from simple, black-on-white linework to lush inkwash, injecting life into the images (and Hill is clearly enjoying the swords ‘n’ sorcery imagery of giant dragons and ancient castles).

Not just an artistic relief from talking-heads and classrooms, though, the Apathea segments are also tightly woven into the fabric of Neil’s story.  Apathea’s struggles seem to mirror his real-life battles with the concerned Christian parents (much like the “Black Freighter” sections in Watchmen, only less blunt,) making it clear just what Neil’s source of courage is.

The parents that he has to contend with are, metaphorically, drawn with the broadest strokes possible: uptight Christian housewives, who use the fear of Hell as a universal deterrent and are so completely handcuffed to their faith that they reject their own children at the slightest sign of homosexuality.  It might seem controversial to have this kind of portrayal, especially in a young adult book and at a time when reactions against liberal bias in children’s education seems at a peak.  The fact is, though, that’s it’s a brilliant set-up, since those who are already sick of moralizing meddlers will easily recognize the figures that Hill and Reed present, while those of a religious bent will see the villainisation as that of “bad” Christians — the old “No true Scotsman” fallacy. O wad some Power the gift tae gie them…


For those on the anti-censorship side, there is plenty to identify with.  Young adults and older adults alike will no doubt recognize their own lives in Neil’s — from the isolation and awkwardness of school life, to the freedom he finds in books and punk rock.  While not quite following the classic hero’s journey, he does grow as character, not merely in his inner strength, but outwardly, too.  There is a subtle, but significant shift in the way Hill draws him over the course of the book, from a slouched little boy on page 1 who’s uncomfortable in his own skin, to a strong, confident young man on the last.

While perhaps not the most gripping of reads for older readers (aside from the winsome pangs of nostalgia), this is an ideal book for its target readership.  Not only does Reed have a knack for the teenage vernacular and an easygoing sense of humour, but more importantly, she gives an empowering message about freedom of speech, the importance of escapism and imagination.  She practically grips them by the collar and says the words we could all have done with hearing at that age: You are not alone.

-- Gavin Lees

Posted in: Gavin Lees,Review