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alexaamarok's review
adventurous
challenging
dark
emotional
hopeful
informative
inspiring
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
3.0
ellsbeth's review
3.0
This book is both depressing and hopeful. It is interesting to read about a parent's experiences in the year 2020 and other times, especially in the ways it mirrors and differs from my own. I found the section on the evolution of current iconography in the U.S. to be particularly informative. The last chapter is the one I related to the most, with its description of "the myth of the progressive college town 'bubble' " and how "the college down IS America-in-Microcosm." Having lived in multiple college towns, this resonated with me. As usual, Powell's art is impactful.
themorsecode's review
4.0
This was more interesting than I was anticipating. At first I feared it would be a typical white liberal take on Trump's presidency but it quickly delves into much more fruitful territory such as white complicity, intergenerational differences, the uses of protest and the co-opting of pop cultural tropes by the far right. As expected from the author of March, there's several allusions and parallels to John Lewis' civil rights protests, along with deep personal soul searching.
Powell seems like a great dad too.
Powell seems like a great dad too.
progeny8277's review
challenging
emotional
hopeful
inspiring
fast-paced
5.0
Made me cry more than the Orange manga.
I don’t really know what else to say. It’s great book and really pushes you into action.
I don’t really know what else to say. It’s great book and really pushes you into action.
Content Warnings
Minor: Antisemitism, Death, Cursing, Grief, Islamophobia, Bullying, Gun violence, Hate crime, Panic attacks/disorders, Mass/school shootings, Pandemic/Epidemic, and Police brutality
jennifermreads's review
5.0
What a personal, powerful look at the horror show of 2020 (and the T***p presidency). Inserting his daughter into the story was a masterful storytelling device as it gave him a vehicle of explanation. I can only imagine what parents went through (are going through) during the pandemic. But I had the same reaction as the Powell household when the results of the 2016 election were announced: “So began our new era, praying NOT to witness these dark days move along with such alarming regularity, knowing they will.”
And, once again, Powell’s artwork is powerful and conveys much beyond the words on the page. I wept when I saw this image:
I hope with all my heart that we DO “wake up.”
And, once again, Powell’s artwork is powerful and conveys much beyond the words on the page. I wept when I saw this image:
I hope with all my heart that we DO “wake up.”
iamkallia's review
challenging
emotional
hopeful
reflective
slow-paced
3.0
I feel really bad, because this wasn’t a bad graphic novel, at all. It just suffers from not being as good as the last book I read. I also struggled with understanding the lines of the narrative - it felt a little disjointed at quite a few points. Again, I can see how this would be very powerful for other people, especially people with kids. As someone who’s only dependent has four paws and meows, I couldn’t relate.
A very good book, just not a very good book for me.
A very good book, just not a very good book for me.
uosdwisrdewoh's review
3.0
In this collection of comic-book essays, Nate Powell reflects on the insanity that’s gripped our country in the Trump era, wrestling with how to raise his children in such a turbulent era. It’s a bit odd to read a memoir of very recent history, but the years since Trump descended the escalator have been very much their own era and five years in is as good a time as any to reflect.
Powell is a great comic storyteller. Never has getting flipped off by Trump supporters been rendered so excitingly. The most interesting parts of this involve him teaching his children to be good people in this era where so many awful people dominate the public space (especially in their home of Indiana). Less great, but still admirable, are the thinkpiece chapters, like the one examining the childish masculinity and its manner of dressing itself in aggro-fascist symbolism.
Throughout this book, Powell extols the virtues of protest, but he doesn’t strike the distinction that protest in of itself isn’t necessarily a virtue, but rather that protesting for the right reasons is. Powell is clear on what he thinks is right and wrong but takes it for granted that if you’re protesting, you’re in the right. To his credit, though, this book takes place entirely in the Trump era, appearing to have been wrapped up before the 2020 election, and this topic didn’t get particularly charged until January 6th, 2021, when those protesting power had very different ideas.
In a similar vein, he speaks in support of anti-fascist street violence, but he never grapples fully with the extremely thorny issue of when violence is justified in service of moral right, which is especially striking given his deep connection with John Lewis, a paragon of nonviolence in America.
Then there’s the question of the efficacy of protest. In the final chapter, tired of own his tendency toward retweeting as protest, Powell makes a sign and does a one-man march in his town square. He’s left uncertain if it was effective at all or simply served to make him feel better. I was left desperately wanting Powell to take on the issue of how to build political power, especially as I read this in a week when one devastating Supreme Court verdict after another made us feel truly powerless before the power of a Court built by decades of effective agitation and organizing from the right. How to counter that? He doesn’t get into it. Again, it’s a bit past the scope of the book, but it’s a small hole in his arguments that’s grown into a huge one in the two years since its release.
Finally, it’s also stunning how he somewhat breezes over the massive protests of 2020, but that mention comes in his chapter on dealing with his personal struggle with depression during the pandemic, so it’s understandable. The entire chapter on 2020 is a bit unsatisfying, really. You get the sense that Powell needed more time to process the trauma of that year.
So many of these caveats are me wishing for easy answers to very difficult issues. Powell is a real talent with a true moral core. The parts about raising the younger generation is great; I only wish he could tackle the larger issues with the same clarity.
Powell is a great comic storyteller. Never has getting flipped off by Trump supporters been rendered so excitingly. The most interesting parts of this involve him teaching his children to be good people in this era where so many awful people dominate the public space (especially in their home of Indiana). Less great, but still admirable, are the thinkpiece chapters, like the one examining the childish masculinity and its manner of dressing itself in aggro-fascist symbolism.
Throughout this book, Powell extols the virtues of protest, but he doesn’t strike the distinction that protest in of itself isn’t necessarily a virtue, but rather that protesting for the right reasons is. Powell is clear on what he thinks is right and wrong but takes it for granted that if you’re protesting, you’re in the right. To his credit, though, this book takes place entirely in the Trump era, appearing to have been wrapped up before the 2020 election, and this topic didn’t get particularly charged until January 6th, 2021, when those protesting power had very different ideas.
In a similar vein, he speaks in support of anti-fascist street violence, but he never grapples fully with the extremely thorny issue of when violence is justified in service of moral right, which is especially striking given his deep connection with John Lewis, a paragon of nonviolence in America.
Then there’s the question of the efficacy of protest. In the final chapter, tired of own his tendency toward retweeting as protest, Powell makes a sign and does a one-man march in his town square. He’s left uncertain if it was effective at all or simply served to make him feel better. I was left desperately wanting Powell to take on the issue of how to build political power, especially as I read this in a week when one devastating Supreme Court verdict after another made us feel truly powerless before the power of a Court built by decades of effective agitation and organizing from the right. How to counter that? He doesn’t get into it. Again, it’s a bit past the scope of the book, but it’s a small hole in his arguments that’s grown into a huge one in the two years since its release.
Finally, it’s also stunning how he somewhat breezes over the massive protests of 2020, but that mention comes in his chapter on dealing with his personal struggle with depression during the pandemic, so it’s understandable. The entire chapter on 2020 is a bit unsatisfying, really. You get the sense that Powell needed more time to process the trauma of that year.
So many of these caveats are me wishing for easy answers to very difficult issues. Powell is a real talent with a true moral core. The parts about raising the younger generation is great; I only wish he could tackle the larger issues with the same clarity.
stegan's review
emotional
reflective
sad
medium-paced
4.0
This book hit real close to home. Not in a good or bad way- it just mirrored how I’ve felt for the last 7 years, and I’m not sure that in this case knowing I’m not alone is solace or something else.
saramarie08's review
4.0
Read more graphic novel reviews at The Graphic Library.
This collection of graphic essays presents Nate Powell as he tackles with the election of 2016, difficult conversations he has with his young daughter on the power of protest and symbols (especially those used by white supremacists), and the effect of the Global Pandemic on his family and his mental state. In early chapters, Powell recounts telling his children about then-candidate Trump (although not specifically named until the end of the book). As white supremacy becomes a more visible component of American society, Powell reflects on writing March with John Lewis and Andrew Aydin, and trying to reconcile those protest movements with the marches by Neo Nazis through his city and state. In the last chapter, Powell has a call-to-arms where he challenges others not to passively agree with others who are protesting, but to do some of it for yourself as well.
The comic essay may be an area that hasn't been explored much by students and school libraries, and you may not have many in the collection. We are used to our comics being for entertainment, not to serve as a vehicle for opinion. Powell has won several awards for his illustrations, so it seems natural for him to grapple with these difficult topics through comic format. He warns up front that this is not a manual for parenting, although there is quite a bit of reflection and explanation on how he talked with his daughter. In one of the chapters, Powell follows the progression of white supremacy - from Nazis in WWII, to beards being symbols of paramilitary, to monochromatic black cars, to the use of the Punisher logo, to the black-and-white version of the American Flag, to Mohawks being adopted by American fascists - and a lot of it relies on probably a deeper understanding of recent American history than I possess. This chapter broke with the more personal reflections Powell had in every other chapter, and thus stood out of place a bit amidst the others, but provides interesting insight into the foundations of the conversations Powell has with his family, and even with strangers while protesting.
Powell's award-winning skills as an illustrated are on full display here. The review copy wasn't fully colored on every page as the final published work will be, but what was colored was done so expertly. On every page, the fear and uncertainty plaguing the country comes through in dark illustrations with heavy use of bold shading and thick lines. Colors are muted and fade often as the conversation turns to bleaker topics. The glimmers of hope that Powell's daughter bring also brings in more color, but the loss of color around her shows her loss of faith and her fear growing as the pandemic sets in. Rather than sticking to one design choice, Powell uses color like another character in the book, constantly conveying emotion.
Once again, the suitability level is based not on the inappropriateness of the content (although there are a few F-bombs), but rather in the reader having a passing understanding of American History and national politics. This would pair well with an American History, Government, or Civics curriculum.
Sara's Rating: 8/10
Suitability Level: Grades 11-12
This review was made possible with an advanced reader copy from the publisher through Net Galley. This graphic novel will be on sale April 6, 2021.
This collection of graphic essays presents Nate Powell as he tackles with the election of 2016, difficult conversations he has with his young daughter on the power of protest and symbols (especially those used by white supremacists), and the effect of the Global Pandemic on his family and his mental state. In early chapters, Powell recounts telling his children about then-candidate Trump (although not specifically named until the end of the book). As white supremacy becomes a more visible component of American society, Powell reflects on writing March with John Lewis and Andrew Aydin, and trying to reconcile those protest movements with the marches by Neo Nazis through his city and state. In the last chapter, Powell has a call-to-arms where he challenges others not to passively agree with others who are protesting, but to do some of it for yourself as well.
The comic essay may be an area that hasn't been explored much by students and school libraries, and you may not have many in the collection. We are used to our comics being for entertainment, not to serve as a vehicle for opinion. Powell has won several awards for his illustrations, so it seems natural for him to grapple with these difficult topics through comic format. He warns up front that this is not a manual for parenting, although there is quite a bit of reflection and explanation on how he talked with his daughter. In one of the chapters, Powell follows the progression of white supremacy - from Nazis in WWII, to beards being symbols of paramilitary, to monochromatic black cars, to the use of the Punisher logo, to the black-and-white version of the American Flag, to Mohawks being adopted by American fascists - and a lot of it relies on probably a deeper understanding of recent American history than I possess. This chapter broke with the more personal reflections Powell had in every other chapter, and thus stood out of place a bit amidst the others, but provides interesting insight into the foundations of the conversations Powell has with his family, and even with strangers while protesting.
Powell's award-winning skills as an illustrated are on full display here. The review copy wasn't fully colored on every page as the final published work will be, but what was colored was done so expertly. On every page, the fear and uncertainty plaguing the country comes through in dark illustrations with heavy use of bold shading and thick lines. Colors are muted and fade often as the conversation turns to bleaker topics. The glimmers of hope that Powell's daughter bring also brings in more color, but the loss of color around her shows her loss of faith and her fear growing as the pandemic sets in. Rather than sticking to one design choice, Powell uses color like another character in the book, constantly conveying emotion.
Once again, the suitability level is based not on the inappropriateness of the content (although there are a few F-bombs), but rather in the reader having a passing understanding of American History and national politics. This would pair well with an American History, Government, or Civics curriculum.
Sara's Rating: 8/10
Suitability Level: Grades 11-12
This review was made possible with an advanced reader copy from the publisher through Net Galley. This graphic novel will be on sale April 6, 2021.