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331 pages, Hardcover
First published November 16, 2005

Sometimes, though not often, Peter had dreams, and they were more painful than the dreams of other boys. For hours he could not be separated from these dreams, though he wailed piteously in them. They had to do, I think, with the riddle of his existence.





[What blows me away in this panel is that these mermaids are not just all
standard fish-tailed. One has the bottom half of a shark. Another has the
bottom half of a manta ray. I had never considered the remotest possibility of that. Note also: I’ve edited the nipples out of this to make the nudity more
coy and pg-13-ish, Akamatsu-style. For reasons.]
Beyond page-and-panel construction and environmental concerns, most readers are going to take notice of Loisel’s character design and figurework. Peter and Hook and Tiger Lily and Tinker Bell and the Redskins and Pirates and faeires and Londoners all are strongly, iconically conceived. Their features are cartoony, but that helps their ability to convey their passions in a way the reader can apprehend even without concern for the texts they nestle up against.
There will likely be some objection to Loisel’s depiction of the Black Pirate and the Redskins. Some very understandable objection. The Black Pirate features the horrible visual stereotyping we find in nineteenth- and early-twentieth-century depictions of Africans in Western media, from Little Black Sambo to the native savages in Tintin and Little Nemo. The Redskins of the Piccaninny Tribe are indistinguishable from each other and all look like caricatures of Magua from the Daniel Day Lewis Last of the Mohicans, or maybe leaner meaner versions of Looney Toons’ Injun Joe. Outside their context within the island’s mythology, the figures are, I’d wager, an indefensible outrage from any creator in the last thirty years. 

However, and I say this delicately, I think their offensive nature makes sense within the scope of Neverland and the imaginative fabric from which both Barrie and Loisel cut their cloth. Neverland is, in canon, the product of imaginations. In Barrie, Neverland is fashioned of the dreams of the people who dream it. And, it should be noted, there is not just one Neverland. That which we witness in Peter and Wendy is at least the product of Peter, Wendy, John, Michael, and the Lost Boys.[6] But principally, its details are fashioned by the magic of Peter himself. The land wakes and sleeps upon his comings and goings. In Loisel, I believe we find that Hook’s imaginations and dreams fuel the make-up of Peter’s Neverland as well.
Because this Neverland is constructed of the thoughts and beliefs of late-nineteenth- and early twentieth-century Caucasian Londoner children, it seems reasonable to presume that their fantasy conception of what they imagined to be the wild races would appear to resemble the grotesques we find in the literature of the time. Peter would likely have never seen a Native American, so his vision of them would have been strictly limited to the literary depictions of his age. And though he would have almost certainly encountered black men and women, people (not even just children) show an unhealthy resilience to giving up the stereotyped caricatures that fill the racial propaganda of any era. I think it reasonable to conclude Peter’s dreamworld creation of blacks and Native Americans would reflect the adventure serials of his day. Despite the distastefulness of the imagery, I think it speaks to the verity of Loisel’s adaptation.[7]
Additionally, the story of Peter Pan has always proved an awkward place for women. Madonnas, mothers, and whores, across the board. In the Neverland conception of things, one can be the gentle-and-soft mother (e.g. Mrs. Darling, the storyteller), the guileless maiden to be rescued (e.g. Tiger Lily), or the seductress (the mermaids). Wendy, confounding Peter consistently throughout the story and ultimately shattering his peace and routine, occupies all three parts, playing the virginal mother who seeks to tempt Peter from Neverland, the fortress of his innocence. Loisel attempts to lay some groundwork for Peter’s method of categorizing and, I think, he does a fair job. The women of London are universally vile, his mother included.[8] He is surrounded by whores and drunks. He longs for female purity but sees adult living as filthy as the lives around him demonstrate it to be. It works for a kind of psychological background for the character, but I’m still debating with myself at how deeply Loisel dips his toe into cliché on this point.
Really, one of the best ideas at play in Loisel’s Peter Pan is having Peter travel back and forth between London and Neverland. The terrors of one inform the terrors of the other and the diminishing returns on the pleasures he finds in London reinforce his eventual fate as the eternal boy finding refuge past the second star on the right and straight on ‘til morning. As Peter’s ties to the real world dwindle through death, displacement, and dissipation, he leaves behind a London that is becoming grislier and grislier by the year. Women in increasing numbers lie butchered in the streets from an unknown culprit even as Peter’s fortunes in Neverland rise. His reputation soars on the island and his ability to engage in constant adventure is secured. All the elements are in place for the status quo at which Barrie will find the character twenty years later. The origin is set and Loisel’s work is done.
Peter Pan is a book of fervent imaginations and the darkest of doings. It won through my skepticism with astonishing ease. The book is wonderful and horrible and I cannot imagine a more perfect prequel to Barrie’s mythology.
“Do you believe?” Peter cried. Many clapped. Some didn’t. A few little beasts hissed.
