4.8 Stars
Warning: Spoilers and mawkish sentiment ahead, and very few jokes (though that will be a relief to most of you).
At first blush, Nimona is the tale of a precocious but powerful girl’s quest to apprentice herself to the villainous Lord Ballister Blackheart as he fights the forces of good and justice, led by the spectacularly appellated (yes, I just verbed “appellation”...deal with it) Sir Ambrosius Goldenloin. As our tale begins, we learn that Nimona is a shapeshifter and can take the form of any living creature, which makes her a formidable foe indeed, given that she gains the strength, mass, size, and requisite abilities of said creatures, and given that she lives in a world where dragons exist.
The initial chapters read like a throwback to the Sunday funnies—discrete, episodic sequences complete with droll punchlines. “Charming,” I thought, settling in for a book-length collection of such strips.
Only not so much.
The book quickly morphs into something more complex, something deeper, something more melancholy—even as it is laugh-out-loud funny at times. Blackheart is a villain who won’t kill…and is he even a villain? Goldenloin is a hero with a dark secret representing an institute whose goals may be far more nefarious than anything Blackheart might ever dream up. And Nimona…Nimona is, by turns, a sarcastic girl, a lonely orphan, and a vicious killing machine.
It’s impossible not to get instantly sucked into the world Stevenson creates, one where rules and logic are, to quote the great Peter Venkman, more of a guideline than a rule—knights with swords communicate via advanced video technology, and brilliant scientists and technologists discuss the merits and properties of magic. In other words, anything goes, so long as it fits the story. Stevenson’s art perfectly suits the world, and she creates fully realized and rendered characters with both words and pictures.
There are some issues—for example, we want our wee Nimona to be a sympathetic character, but she IS a killer, plain and simple, and that doesn’t reconcile with how Blackheart in particular feels about her and treats her. But, that notwithstanding, I’m going to go full on fanboy here.
This book is EXACTLY what non-spandex-clad-hero graphic novels should be: heartfelt, personal, and passionately executed. It’s the perfect fusion of art and story, of pathos and humor, of grace and glee. The relationship between estranged lovers Blackheart and Goldenloin is beautiful—it’s an eloquent, poignant no-statement statement, a romance between two men that requires no soapbox commentary because it’s not about social activism, but rather just the timeless tale of two people who love each other (albeit one in which one lover severed the other one’s arm and took years to apologize, but that’s neither here nor there).
As a reader, I’m thankful that new media allows for so many ways for stories like this to be told and distributed, and for talented storytellers like Stevenson to find an audience.
Okay, okay—enough with the sentimentality. I promise to return to inappropriate scatological humor in my next review.