Firebugs

Starred review from February 1, 2024

Whether dancing at a nightclub, dining with an old friend, or devoting an evening to scrolling through news stories about brushfires and other environmental disasters brought about by climate change, Ingken exudes melancholy. One night, they confide in their partner, Lily: "I don't really think I'm a woman...I don't really see myself as a 'man' either. All I know is I feel bad almost all of the time." Over the months and weeks that follow, Lily, a trans woman, tries to be supportive, helping Ingken consider if they should adopt a new name and listening patiently as Ingken debates if desiring a double mastectomy makes them a bad feminist. As summer turns to fall, the couple becomes increasingly estranged as Lily grows impatient for Ingken to burn themselves down and rise anew, as she once did, while Ingken remains immobilized by confusion and anxiety over how to reinvent themselves when they aren't sure who they are to begin with. VERDICT A tender, probing exploration of queer identity in a world seemingly on the verge of collapse, brought to life with warmth and grace by Bulling's (Cutes: Collected Queer and Trans Comics) exceptionally fluid, emotionally evocative linework.

Copyright 2024 Library Journal, LLC Used with permission.

February 26, 2024
Berlin cartoonist Bulling’s scintillating English-language debut features a queer couple navigating transitions. Hard-partyer Ingken has just returned from Paris to Berlin, where they share a flat with their girlfriend Lily, an American performance artist. Lily is trans, and Ingken also has come to realize they no longer identify as female. At first Lily is incredibly supportive (“Your pain is real”), but soon Ingken’s despondent dithering begins to wear on her (“I get it sometimes I want to give them a good, hard push” she tells a friend). Adding to the tension is the fact that Lily’s been casually hooking up with a crush (the couple’s relationship is open, but jealousy simmers). This intimate drama unfolds against the backdrop of global climate change, the fear of which feeds into the couple’s sense of frustration in an unmoored world. Bulling’s script is more meditative than propulsive, but its depiction of melancholia—the way a crisis of identity can feel both significant and infinitesimal in the face of actual apocalypse—is often moving. It’s a testament to the subtle storytelling that the volume’s abrupt and ambiguous close feels somehow more complete than any more definitive resolution could. The loose-lined art has a touch of the surreal, which adds to the disorientation, though occasionally it can be difficult to tell figures apart. This is a quintessential story of queer millennial malaise.