Cannon

by Lee Lai

A LAMBDA Award winner and breakout fiction sensation returns with a darkly funny slice of friendship strife


We arrive to wreckage—a restaurant smashed to rubble, with tables and chairs upended riotously. Under the swampy nighttime cover of a Montreal heat-wave, this is where we meet our protagonist, Cannon, dripping in little beads of regret sweat. She was supposed to be closing the restaurant for the night, but instead, well, she destroyed it. The mess feels a bit like a horror-scape—not unlike the horror films Cannon and her best friend, Trish, watch together. Cooking dinner and digging into deep cuts of Australian horror films on their scheduled weekly hangs has become the glue in their rote relationship. In high school, they were each other's lifeline—two queer second-generation Chinese nerds trapped in the suburbs. Now, on the uncool side of their twenties, the essentialness of one another feels harder to pin down.

Yet, when our stoic and unbendingly well-behaved Cannon finds herself—very uncharacteristically—surrounded by smashed plates, it is Trish who shows up to pull her the hell outta there.

In Cannon, Lee Lai’s much anticipated follow-up to the critically acclaimed and award-winning Stone Fruit, the full palette of a nervous breakdown is just a slice of what Lai has on offer. As Cannon’s shoulders bend under the weight of an aging Gung-gung and an avoidant mother, Lai’s sharp sense of humor and sensitive eye produce a story that will hit readers with a smash.

Genres: Graphic Novels, Comics, Fiction, LGBT, Queer, Friendship, Graphic Novels Comics

Kindle Edition

First published September 9, 2025

About the author

Lee Lai is an Australian cartoonist living in Tio’tia:ke (known as Montreal, Quebec).
She has been featured in The New Yorker, McSweeneys and The New York Times, and was recently named one of the 5 under 35 honorees by the National Book Foundation. Her first graphic novel, Stone Fruit, was released last year with Fantagraphics, Sarbacane, Coconino and other publishers. Mostly, she writes about people eating, talking, and making questionable decisions.

Reviews

[CaseyTheCanadianLesbrarian · Rating 5 out of 5]

WOW WOW WOW. Lee Lai knocks it out of the park with this beautifully drawn and deftly realized story about queer friendship set in a hot humid Montreal summer. Two queer Anglophone Chinese Canadian kids who met in high school are still friends in their late 20s, but are growing apart. Is Lucy aka "Luce Cannon" finally going to live up to her nickname and stop taking shit from the girl leading her on, her friend talking over her, her shifty restaurant boss, and her ailing abusive grandpa? Well, YES and it's beautiful to watch.

[Méli · Rating 5 out of 5]

more like Can-oui

[Javier RC · Rating 5 out of 5]

Masterpiece!! Probably the best comic I’ve read this year 🙌🙌🙌

[Sole]

Brilliant. Probably the comic of the year. I wish I could write like this.

(And I can totally imagine this as a movie)

[Cat · Rating 4 out of 5]

set in mtl <3 and packs an emotional punch 🥊

[Book Riot Community]

This is one of Book Riot’s Best Books of 2025:

After Stone Fruit, I longed for Lai’s second graphic novel about Cannon, a cook, and Trish, a writer, from Lennoxville. Every week, the best friends—“on the uncool side of [their] twenties”—watch a scary film until distance threatens their bond of 14 years. Opening in a trashed Montreal restaurant with a regretful Cannon, the story returns to three months prior. Featuring mostly black-and-white art, I devoured this, obsessed with the use of color, horror influences, and complex relationships. As I reread this stunning meditation on breath, intimacy, and care, I observed what appears in red, which frames birds populate, and how they converge.

- Connie Pan

[Meggie Ramm · Rating 5 out of 5]

Cannon’s grandpa is ill, her mom isn’t helping, her best friend is secretly using her life as writing fodder, and her job sucks. Cannon is just a ticking bomb.
Lai is the new champ on quiet memoir comics, this rocked. Cannon is dealing with so many pressures, and Lai uses imagery and overlapping speech balloons to racket up the tension between her and her circumstances. Also, if you’ve ever worked a shitty job in the service industry, you will wonder if Lai was there taking notes, because the restaurant scenes are spot on. This novel is lazy and introspective when it’s not shrieking with anger and ratcheting up the tension. Another 10/10.

[jp arsenault · Rating 5 out of 5]

i feel like i just lived this.

the characters felt like friends and i was so emotionally invested in their lives. i can't believe .... well.

i really enjoyed the dialogue, felt real af, the dynamic between the two main characters was also real. i can see myself, my friends, i don't know. it just felt like reading a memory, from my journal, somewhere between 2010 and 2017.

it was like a documentary.

speaking of memories. as i worked in a restaurant for like almost 10 years, i don't know what i felt reading all those scenes that happened in a restaurant. sometimes i missed it, other times it was just triggering ? i guess it was also very real. sketchy boss, yelling at each other during rush, waiters messing around with kitchen staff, after a shift, over a beer... i know people like that, i've been someone like that.

good old memories. stay memories.

but it good sometimes to read about it and realise how much you've grown.

anyway. this isn't the topic.

lee lai.

i really liked stone fruit. but i absolutely loved cannon.

[Megan Kirby · Rating 5 out of 5]

Really loved this! I think it's rare to find a comic that is so grounded in modern reality while also telling a compelling story. This book would have been successful in any narrative format--movie, novel, tv show, etc--because the story at its core is so good. I read it in two sit-downs on a Saturday afternoon.

The book follows Cannon, a cook at an upscale restaurant who staunchly keeps her cool while her life starts crumbling around her. There are several relationships explored--all with surprising depth given the length of the book--but the core is her friendship with her best friend Trish. Lai gives characters room to breath--and contradict and overlap and evolve. Plus, the beautifully inked panels are always easy to follow. Lai also has a knack for snippets of dialogue, often with text bubbles overlapping or running off the page.

Anyway! Really enjoyed this one--still thinking about it a few days later.

[Laurent De Maertelaer · Rating 5 out of 5]

Vijf sterren voor een zo goed als perfecte graphic novel. Het recept is even simpel als vakkundig: een heerlijke tekenstijl, een ingenieus verhaalritme, onderkoelde humor, emotionele zeggingskracht, twee ijzersterke en bijzonder innemende personages (Cannon en Trish) en hedendaagse thema’s (racisme, gender, identiteit). Top!

[kate j · Rating 4 out of 5]

everyone sees everyone in this book and there is still story leftover. what a gift lai gives us: a demonstration of how to handle rage and forgiveness and the nuance in between.

i love, love the way she draws bodies and bikes. read for that, too.

[Callie Lirakis · Rating 5 out of 5]

Words fail

[Erik B.K.K. · Rating 3 out of 5]

A calm, pleasant read.

[Kira S · Rating 5 out of 5]

Topical with stress and feeling overwhelmed

[Hannah · Rating 4 out of 5]

i read this together with blu in his bed while he recovers from his herniated disc. it was so beautiful, we both laughed, we (almost) cried, and talked about which pages we want prints of. cannon is a complex character who is relatable and the relationships are beautifully portrayed.

[Lisa Chetteau · Rating 5 out of 5]

La qualité de l'écriture est assez impressionnante. J'aime lire ce genre de personnages complexes, attachants et très réels.

[Rachel · Rating 5 out of 5]

4.5 stars

I think the most compelling part of the story here is how real it all is. Work sucks, sex is complicated, friendships are hard to maintain, family relationships even more so, and the practice of advocating for yourself can be explosive (no matter how many guided meditations you listen to and how many runs you go on). The art is expressive, with a creative use of color and metaphorical birds to show a slow descent into coming to terms with rage. Along the way, there is life, death, avoidance, connection, mundanity, eccentricity, and everything in between.

[KT]

another excellent graphic novel from Lee Lai :) you could FEEL the oppressive summer heat in this one dripping and broiling... rly obsessed w how Lai uses speech bubbles to create the sense of pressure closing in. her style is so expressive and lovely! really enjoyed this one

[Maybel Moore · Rating 5 out of 5]

Loved this. I feel like I lived parts of this myself. Find yourself. Take no shit.

[Sophia Curtis · Rating 5 out of 5]

Just a literal perfect read!

[Thomas · Rating 4 out of 5]

Graphic Novel über eine Frau, die der stabile Ankerpunkt für ihr ganzes Umfeld ist und wie sie mit dem Druck umgeht. Sehr spannend und einfühlsam geschrieben.

[Anna Meyer · Rating 5 out of 5]

Absolutely perfect.

[Juan Ferrer · Rating 4 out of 5]

i really liked this bd. so difficult to have so many emotions sometimes.

[eve · Rating 5 out of 5]

i find little fault other than the ex machina. if trish has no haters im dead

[Morgan · Rating 5 out of 5]

this really made me feeeeel!! attentive, emotionally layered storytelling, what we know and love Lee Lai for !

[Hal Schrieve · Rating 5 out of 5]

In thinking about what unites my favorite comic artists: I like when people acknowledge a brutal, scummy world that can really drive you insane but which still contains the potential for human connection or liberate– depicted in panels which draw you along through both the ugly and beautiful parts of the world. What I see from Lee Lai is an almost unbelievably consistent artistic project centered on themes of queerness, family, the difficulties of intimacy and trust, and (often) food. I remember a comic Lai drew in what must have been 2015 or before of two chubby gay guys in bed together talking about their relationship insecurities while discussing a recipe for noodle soup. Their visual style was almost the same then; their focus and subject matter has sharpened in depth but remained in the same frame of focus.

I read Stone Fruit a few years ago.It’s one of the most enchanting, empathetic break-up books I’ve ever encountered and features painfully recognizable scenes of missed and lost intimacy, as well as a visual approach to rendering child-play and imagination as toothy and partly unskinned which I think illuminates the joy that adults can have with children while also stripping it of traditionally sentimental visual language.


Lai’s new book, Cannon, has artistic depth and interest outside of its use as a manual or reflection– but I enjoyed listening to Tuck Woodstock talk to Lai about what her project is and realize that she set out to do basically exactly what she actually achieves.

In Cannon, Lai follows a friendship between Lucy (Cannon), who is pathologically stoic out of a conviction it is moral and necessary, and Trish, a high school friend whose self-obsession and loudmouth processing habit isn’t visible to herself because Cannon spends all her time in the relationship absorbing Trish’s feelings but rarely offering her own in return. This dynamic is unsustainable. Unreflected, Trish feels alone. Meanwhile, Cannon’s workplace is grueling, her boss a creep, her formerly abusive granddad is declining with apathetic paid care, and Cannon’s mom, who bore the brunt of her father’s abuse, isn’t present to help care for him for understandable reasons that nevertheless place a lot of pressure on her daughter. Trish talks about herself all the time and fixates unhealthily on past breakups while keeping an eager FWB lad at arm’s length; she expresses her love for her friend and demonstrates she is actually paying attention by incorporating Cannon’s life into her art practice. Dodgy decision at best.


In another author’s hands, virtuous Cannon would explode righteously at her friend at some point in the narrative for her selfishness, and her friend would tearfully apologize, realizing she has been using and abusing Cannon’s generous good nature for too long. Not here. There is still a moment of eruption– but it is a moment of meeting. Both characters find they have something to complain about– leaning too hard without providing reciprocal care is cruel, but avoidance of dependence shuts the people you love out, after all, and noncommunication doesn’t necessarily protect those around you. Both women have problems selecting partners– Cannon, reticent, falls for a forward, directly-communicating bartender girl at work and rapidly comes to expect more than she can give, resenting her for flirting with their mutual terrible boss, and Trish beds down with a sort of awesome dude who’s ready for a relationship that she really doesn’t want yet. Both emerge as complex, messy women who need quiet, passion, care and peace, and who contain the power to deal with their respective situations.


Something I appreciate about this book is that it contains both evil and beneficent men– abusive dads, terrible bosses, loving boyfriends whose asses are clean and who cook even if you didn’t ask, coworkers who play bossa nova to lull you out of a panic attack– and sometimes guys who can be both, as in the scene where Cannon’s restaurant coworker who has a hot temper and can be a real crud helps her out in the aftermath of her inevitable explosion. It’s a cool-eyed but loving look at the world. As an aside, I adore the way Lai draws men’s bodies, particularly their arms and tummies.

Racism and the pressure on artists to make work about themselves, exposing their lives for a (white) audience, is also a theme in this book. Trish’s white lesbian writing mentor offers insight into using her identity to get funding, which makes Trish stall out; Trish’s strategy of using her friend’s life rather than her own speaks to a kind of self-protection wherein she also cannot safely expose herself or her life. Her subsequent drop of the project when Cannon finds out feels like a relief– and her beneficent mentor, who previously appeared a little sympathetic or hot, has a moment of embarrassing exposure when she reveals to her partner that she needs Trish to feel relevant right before Trish stops working with her.

Limited-color comics are more of a thing lately. I don’t know if it’s because of any kind of expense-related thing– certainly there are enough glossy bright-colored kids’ comics which throw vivid shit on the page just for the sake of it– or impact, but I like the way red is used in this book, and the way visual language is used to communicate something that Cannon herself has difficulty expressing about her rage and its connection to her grandfather– to her fear of herself.

For a book that’s just about friendship drama and which doesn’t contain a “bad end”, Cannon was gripping to read. Lai, for her part, represents a kind of community-focused art practice in a very individual medium that I think is genuinely useful for every reader.

[Stephane · Rating 5 out of 5]

Lee Lai poses immediately a challenge to my classification system where I include the nationality of the writer/creator. As per Wikipedia, Lee Lai is an Australian cartoonist and illustrator, born in Melbourne, who now lives and works in Montreal, Canada, with Chinese (Hong Kong) ancestry. Because the story is set in Montréal, where Lee Lai is living (and apparently trying to learn French- good for you, my friend! don't give up!) I choose Canada.

I borrowed this from my public library after reading about it in the Guardian, as featured in a best-of-year list. I had no expectation. Didn't look it up or knew anything about it. Read the aforementioned article, went to the library to pick up an unrelated book and... bam, it was there on the shelf, staring at me. So, I picked it up.

Honestly, though, I became totally engrossed. Love the characters and while the minimalist art somewhat left me cold at first, it gained momentum. This was, to me, absolutely character driven and I was 100% along for the ride. Loves that characters (did I mentioned that...) they felt real, coherent.

The blurb from Adrian Tomine says something akin to this story being fiction reading like a memoir. Honestly, I had to look all this up because I figured it was indeed a memoir (I don't read blurbs...I only read them after I am done with the book...) Gave vibes of Le Plongeur and of Micheal Douglas`s Falling Down. Very few people are going to get those references. I raced to borrow Stone Fruit as soon as I could. Nice work on book 100 for the year.

[Dave Schaafsma · Rating 5 out of 5]

This review might tell more than you really want to know, spoiler alert, I guess, but none of it is earthshakingly revelatory.

After her 2021 Stone Fruit, Australian-Canadian Lee Lai creates one of the most quietly affecting graphic novels of the year, Cannon (2025), a big but relatively quick slice-of-life book I thought was initially just okay, though it feels real, and then it grew on me more and more as the quiet intensity of Lucy's (Cannon's) life deepens. Cannon--a nickname--works in a restaurant as a very good cook in a hot Montreal summer. She has a rep for being calm; she's taking care of her ailing grandfather ("gung gung") without her mother's help, there's friction with her roommate of 14 years, who is bisexual, sleeping with a nice guy who is trying to be emotionally available to her even as Cannon is emotionally unavailable to her.

A new woman comes to work in the restaurant, she and Cannon develop a relationship, though the woman also seems to be attached to the male boss?

Then Cannon is dealing with all these birds around her. Good birds? Bad birds? Metaphorical birds! Things all come to a head over gung gung and buried friend anger, and none of this seems remarkable, like it is a 3-star book/review, but the artwork lends itself to the quiet engagement in the story, and it feels very real to me in a way the best books do. Even better than Stone Fruit. If you like domestic drama, where you like the mcs, you might go for this.

PS I was reminded of Mimi Pond's restaurant books, including Over Easy, though that is played for more laughs. There's a lot going on in a restaurant! A cool community! I recall the days when I worked in one, but this is a higher-end place, with more pressure.

[Declan Fry]

Meet Cannon: stoic, dependable, considered. The kind of person others turn to when they need help. Cannon spends nights watching horror films with Trish, a woman she bonded with in high school, one of the “only two gay Chinese Anglophone teens in all of Lennoxville”. In their late 20s, the pair finds that horror’s tales of possession and degradation speak to the terrifying reality of their own lives.

Cannon is surrounded by people she can barely talk to, forced to make decisions and care for her family while working exhausting restaurant shifts. She puts out fires between co-workers and suffers her smarmy boss, Guy, for fear of losing her job. What little free time she has is frequently spent tending to her grandfather.

While Cannon remains receptive and present for others, those around her are distant and emotionally numb: her grandfather, Chan Ying Fung, sits alone at home, abandoned by carers unable to tolerate his anger. Her mother, Jennifer, remains scarred by memories of Chan’s authoritarian parenting.

Cannon runs compulsively, all while being run down by those around her. As she checks in on friends and family, her primary companions are self-help recordings, therapeutic messages encouraging her to “breathe” and be mindful and ignore all that pesky existential doom, baby!

Her name is a play on her birth name, Lucy (“Luce Cannon”). It’s ironic, but perhaps not entirely: one day, a wound on her foot begins to blister. Cannon, a quiet soul, is seemingly on the verge of being pushed to the edge.

Read on: https://www.smh.com.au/culture/books/...

[Ve Mundo · Rating 4 out of 5]

Cannon has been on my list since last year. By the end of 2025, it appeared on so many "Best of" lists that I knew I had to start my year of graphic novels with this one.

I must say, I really liked it. The art is very cool and minimalist; since the book is in black and white, I was stunned every time one of those red panels appeared.

I loved that this is a story about letting yourself feel things, specifically rage. The plot develops around the kitchen staff in a restaurant, which adds an interesting layer to the narrative. I also really liked how sexuality was handled, as well as how Lee Lai addressed sensitive topics like harassment, violence, and death.

The panels and the story structure were very appealing to me. I particularly enjoyed the small, single central panels that follow pages of standard four-panel layouts. The graphic novel becomes more playful in its structure toward the end, shifting almost at the same time the main character undergoes her own changes (I thought that was a very cool touch).

I also loved the birds and the metaphorical sense around them as symbols of rage. The reason I didn't rate this more highly is that I felt like something was missing from the characters. Even though I was happy she was "releasing" herself little by little at the end, I don't think I was given enough information, history, or interaction between the characters to feel truly connected to them or to experience their joy. The ending took me by surprise, not because I wanted to keep reading, but because it felt like something was still missing.

That being said, it is still a beautiful work of art and I highly recommend reading it.