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A review by korrick
Monstress, Vol. 3: Haven by Marjorie M. Liu
4.0
I've reached the stage in my life where this series would have to take a massive U-turn and really piss me off for me to not be committed to reading whatever volumes the creators deign to put out. Part of it is the fact that my glory days with manga are well and truly over, replaced with a feeling of fatigue that sets in whenever I consider how much effort I used too make to find something else that draws me in as strongly as this work does. Part of it is my realization just how much it means to me to have something explicitly not white, explicitly queer, explicitly sexy, explicitly horrific, and explicitly gorgeous, all wrapped up in a package that may be confusing at times, but never feels shoddy or otherwise half assed. Of course, this had to happen after I had moved away from the area that would likely stock the latest volume in its libraries instead of just up to the fourth, or the fifth if you include the graphic novel database that I just wrangled a free month trial of for my place of work. Still, better late than never, so long story short, if you're looking for an especially objective review of a series three works in, this is going to miss the mark even more than I usually do. For those who don't mind a bit of visceral indulgence in their literary analysis, I can only hope this review leads you to enjoy this series as much as I have thus far.
So. What exactly happens in this third entry of the story of Maika and co? Well, there is some movement from out of the frying pan and into the fire, enemies reveal themselves, allies don't quite turn but are certainly cut-throatedly practical, answers that weren't asked for reveal themselves, questions that have driven the knowledge quest of various characters from the beginning of the series remain unanswered, and so and and so forth in a rather classic 'give the audience what they want, especially a reason for them to keep coming back.' For me, I'm less concerned about any one character (although one of the ones newly introduced in this volume, Vihn Nem, can step on me all she likes), and more about the narratological choices at work: the subversion of the Lovecraftian universe by raising the stakes from tedious kyriarchal bigotry to aeon spanning rise-fall-retribution; the deft balancing of the supernatural that allows invocation of both awe and terror without succumbing to an endless 'and they were overpowered so the other one got even MORE overpowered' arms race; and, of course, the fact that the white cishet dudebro archetype isn't passively bowed to, much less catered to in any concrete character form. For when you've read as much as I have, including all that is labeled as taboo, it isn't the gore or the social violation or the 'degenerate' (and I say that as someone who calls themselves degenerate for many reasons, especially the revolutionary ones) that wearies one: it's that, amidst all the 'transgressiveness' and the 'filth', the same status quo that forces us to suck the cocks of corporations and murderous enforces will be trotted out, rendering the whole exercise pointless schlock. So, Maika's world certainly isn't going to fuel the escapist dreams of the cottagecore crowds, but it does offer a rare breed of catharsis that is hedonistically vicious but does not pander to the hegemonic genocides that currently keeps the real world in thrall, and after so much of the sugared water and gore porn that characterizes most entertainments today, I need a series like this like a predator needs blood.
At some point, I fully expect to wake up some day and find out that this series has been optioned for a TV adaptation by Amazon or some other rapacious cuntfucker of a corporate hegemony. Until then, I relish the thought that there are still four more volumes before I join those waiting on the next publication. There's always a chance that Liu and Takeda will lose me before then, but considering how stable I've become in my more incendiary media tastes and how appreciative I've grown of the few graphic novel series that still appeal, it'd take more than a shoddy plotline or a less than satisfying character arc to shove me off for good. You see, humans will always crave the diabolical and the grotesque intermingled with the sensual and the sultry, but it takes a special kind of piece to ignore the last half millennium of social conditioning and protracted genocides and cultivate a creative work that takes only what it needs, not what it's told to desire. Ultimately, in all honesty, the series could kill off most of the main characters in the next volume, and I would still want to know what comes next, for the world is too enticing to leave simply because the more familiar fleshbags have exited stage left, and the mythos is too inspirational for me to assume it played its only hand in the first round. I'm not sure when I'll get around to the next volume, but I'm sure that, in its own deliciously singular way, it will be a pleasure.
So. What exactly happens in this third entry of the story of Maika and co? Well, there is some movement from out of the frying pan and into the fire, enemies reveal themselves, allies don't quite turn but are certainly cut-throatedly practical, answers that weren't asked for reveal themselves, questions that have driven the knowledge quest of various characters from the beginning of the series remain unanswered, and so and and so forth in a rather classic 'give the audience what they want, especially a reason for them to keep coming back.' For me, I'm less concerned about any one character (although one of the ones newly introduced in this volume, Vihn Nem, can step on me all she likes), and more about the narratological choices at work: the subversion of the Lovecraftian universe by raising the stakes from tedious kyriarchal bigotry to aeon spanning rise-fall-retribution; the deft balancing of the supernatural that allows invocation of both awe and terror without succumbing to an endless 'and they were overpowered so the other one got even MORE overpowered' arms race; and, of course, the fact that the white cishet dudebro archetype isn't passively bowed to, much less catered to in any concrete character form. For when you've read as much as I have, including all that is labeled as taboo, it isn't the gore or the social violation or the 'degenerate' (and I say that as someone who calls themselves degenerate for many reasons, especially the revolutionary ones) that wearies one: it's that, amidst all the 'transgressiveness' and the 'filth', the same status quo that forces us to suck the cocks of corporations and murderous enforces will be trotted out, rendering the whole exercise pointless schlock. So, Maika's world certainly isn't going to fuel the escapist dreams of the cottagecore crowds, but it does offer a rare breed of catharsis that is hedonistically vicious but does not pander to the hegemonic genocides that currently keeps the real world in thrall, and after so much of the sugared water and gore porn that characterizes most entertainments today, I need a series like this like a predator needs blood.
At some point, I fully expect to wake up some day and find out that this series has been optioned for a TV adaptation by Amazon or some other rapacious cuntfucker of a corporate hegemony. Until then, I relish the thought that there are still four more volumes before I join those waiting on the next publication. There's always a chance that Liu and Takeda will lose me before then, but considering how stable I've become in my more incendiary media tastes and how appreciative I've grown of the few graphic novel series that still appeal, it'd take more than a shoddy plotline or a less than satisfying character arc to shove me off for good. You see, humans will always crave the diabolical and the grotesque intermingled with the sensual and the sultry, but it takes a special kind of piece to ignore the last half millennium of social conditioning and protracted genocides and cultivate a creative work that takes only what it needs, not what it's told to desire. Ultimately, in all honesty, the series could kill off most of the main characters in the next volume, and I would still want to know what comes next, for the world is too enticing to leave simply because the more familiar fleshbags have exited stage left, and the mythos is too inspirational for me to assume it played its only hand in the first round. I'm not sure when I'll get around to the next volume, but I'm sure that, in its own deliciously singular way, it will be a pleasure.