A heartwrenching memoir of a daughter losing her father and a scathing indictment of the medical industry
Arizona grieves at the hospital bed of her father, a man she hardly knew, brain dead after a fentanyl overdose. Doctors encourage her to act quickly to recast him as a hero by way of organ donations. Distraught, Arizona makes a decision that will haunt her for the rest of her life. As she struggles to come to terms with her father’s death and her role as next of kin in making his life’s last decision, she uncovers inconvenient truths about the organ industry’s own codependence on the opioid crisis.
Her parents were bohemian wild kids of 90s Montreal. He was a talented skateboarder, charming guitarist, and visual artist. She was an aspiring writer and outcast. They lived with other teenagers in the Plateau in a messy apartment filled with drugs, alcohol, and black-market animals. The city’s macabre history—McGill Medical School, the Mount Royal Cemetery, ancient cadavers at the Maude Abbott Medical Museum—takes center stage as Arizona sorts out fact from fiction.
Opioids and Organs is a damning critique of an industry that takes advantage of society’s outcasts. It is also the graphic novel debut of O’Neill herself, who weaves together a dramatic personal history with that of how humanity made its scientific advances. A muted yet striking pastel palette and a dolllike fantastical elegance belie both the gruesomeness of the book’s topic and the rage of its author.
I don't know how I, a massive Heather O'Neill fan, never knew that she had a daughter, nor how I accidentally stumbled into picking up her daughter's debut graphic memoir. 'Twas meant to be, I suppose.
Immediately upon starting this book, though, it's clear that the younger O'Neill shares many similarities with her talented mother: among them, an affinity for pairing the whimsical and the macabre. In this tome, Arizona takes on the very complex feelings she has about organ donation. And for her, it's personal.
About a decade ago, her father, a struggling addict, overdosed and was declared brain-dead. In the midst of receiving that shocking news, Arizona, as her father's next of kin, was asked to donate his organs. She did so, but now has very complex feelings about it, especially given the shadowy history of organ procurement and transplantation.
Although the subject matter is heavy, it's somewhat lightened by the fact that Arizona, in cartoon form, is accompanied on her adventures to learn more about the history of organ transplants in medicine by a very sassy lizard, Izzy, and Frankenstein's monster, Frankie. Each is meant to represent a different side of herself as she seeks knowledge and, hopefully, some form of peace.
I think if you're like me and you like the novels penned by Arizona's mother, you'll absolutely find it worth your time to read this, especially because Heather makes a few cameos. But if medical and/or macabre books are your thing and you enjoyed books like The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, or the lesser-known but still important The Organ Thieves: The Shocking Story of the First Heart Transplant in the Segregated South (the subject of which gets a few pages in this memoir) definitely consider giving this a read. It certainly gave me a lot to think about.
Un peu déçue, j’aurais aimé plus de profondeur dans le récit, qu’on aille plus loin au niveau de la crise des opioïdes notamment. Restée sur ma faim. Belles illustrations
Fantastic debut graphic novel! I learned so much about the organ donation system in Canada tied to the opioid crisis, all while enjoying Arizona’s amazing talents as an illustrator!
As much as I enjoyed this I did feel there was something missing here; I suppose that is the endless exploration of grief.
I don’t want to compare too much, but after reading Lullabies For Little Criminals I was surprised by the connections I was able to make between her childhood and her mothers… I guess I’m just a sucker for memoirs buried in fiction.
A gorgeously macabre graphic novel, ultimately about how we conceive of death and dying. It exposed me to a different view of organ donation. While it saves lives, its origins are rooted in racism and classism. Should families be paid for the use of their loved ones' organs? That is a question posed in the novel, and one that I am definitely wrestling with. Obviously, the hospital profits off of the transplants.
The novel also addresses the opioid epidemic, and I first became interested in this novel after reading about the nasty, nasty Sackler family in Empire of Pain. While the Sacklers were the ones that kick-started this massive die-off of American and Canadian citizens, it is the citizens themselves that shoulder the blame. People that die of opioid overdoses are not treated the same as people who die of other causes. O'Neill argues that hospitals quietly accepted the opioid epidemic in order to rake in massive profits from free organ donations.
Additionally, O'Neill has a hard time dealing with the fact that the hospital kept her brain-dead father on life support in order to harvest basically all of his organs, especially considering the racism and other biases that go into organ waiting lists. She brings up that being a drug addict, her father would not have been able to get on an organ waiting list at all. Thus, he gave his body to a system that would not have given anything to him. Is that fair?
Throughout the novel, O'Neill is accompanied by a lizard, Izzy, and Frankenstein's Monster, whom she calls Frankie. They travel to Ireland to see her mother, a researcher, and then go to Paris, to the Catacombes, where I just was mere weeks ago! It was cool to see Paris illustrated in the novel. I found the Louvre and Catacombes illustrations especially moving. I agree with her that while the Catacombes are a bit scary, they're ultimately a calming place, and one of true equality, where the rich and poor dead mingle their bones for eternity. The novel ends in a really beautiful, life-affirming scene.
All in all, it's definitely an odd graphic novel, but one worth checking out and spending your time with! I'm surprised to see it doesn't have that many ratings and I hope more people find it.
I might not agree with it but it's a damn good thought-provoking, anger-inducing creative graphic memoir and THAT is why books are the best.
O'Neill's dad dies of a fentanyl overdose. The doctors ask whether organs will be donated. She consents but ultimately is frustrated by her decision to do this thinking that the medical establishment preys on the weak and vulnerable to churn out organ donation especially in North America (she's in Canada but she also talks a lot about the United States). She researched and visited institutions related to the procurement of organs with their muddied pasts. She shares the catacombs of France. She discusses the historical significance of organ transplantation including cruel experiments on dogs and then humans.
While I agree that the past was a lawless wild west of sorts, to boil down current organ transplantation as preying on the weak and vulnerable is more about her pain and loss and anger. Having a cousin who received a heart transplant and an aunt who just passed away and donated her body to science, there are plenty of people who do it for reasons of medical advancement and we are in an age of medical advancement- it's why we're living longer. Not all organs could likely be harvested from people who she thinks are preyed upon because they might have underlying conditions that would prevent their organs from being used. She makes connections to the pandemic and opioid addiction that gave me moments of pause but I can't ultimately agree with. She makes the case though.
The story itself is told with her moving through time and space with both a lizard and Frankenstein who posit questions and pose thoughts in meaningful ways while she works through her frustration, anger, and grief.
The book is what Drawn and Quarterly does well. Unique. Challenging. Timely. I couldn't imagine not reading the book. It teaches and it gives readers pause to think.
No me tincaba por la portada. Pero veía que era de una ilustradora montrealina bien importante, su début de novela (gráfica), así que lo tenía en el radar. Después me explicaron brevemente de qué se trataba. Tampoco me tincó mucho así. Pero finalmente me enteré de que había sido hecho por la pareja de una persona que ha sido muy buena y acogedora conmigo, así que dije bueno, intentémoslo. Y esperaba: drama, oscuridad, incomodidad por los dibujos y un tema denso. Lo que encontré: una historia personal llevada a cabo de manera muy ligera y fluida, con interrupciones y aclaraciones rayando en el sarcasmo a momentos. Referencias literarias del tipo "¿sabías que Frankenstein era el doctor, no la criatura?" (amo). Y un tema que nos concierne como sociedad pero que no abordamos: el transplante de órganos. Quizás la novela podría haber durado el doble. Pero siento que tiene una duración precisa, sin volverse tediosa ni densa. Los dibujos son impecables en su estilo (que no es mi favorito, pero aprecio para este cómic). Las expresiones de los personajes dicen muchísimo. La lagartija que acompaña a la protagonista le da un toque muy bueno de cuestionar/explicar algunos de sus comportamientos. Y Frankie? Un ente encantador. Me gusta la fantasía de que una persona con un órgano transplantado recibe gustos/intereses de la persona de quien tomaron ese órgano. El cierre no me mató. O sea, la referencia literaria sí. Pero que Arizona llegue a la conclusión que llega, y que por ende se vuelva accesible un "más allá", creo que no es tan coherente con su lado más investigador y hasta científico, con el que empaticé muchísimo.
En fin. Muy recomendable, excelente viaje para hacerse algunas preguntas antes de llegar a enfrentar la situación, si alguna vez toca, sobre el transplante de órganos.
Reading "Opioids And Organs," Arizona O'Neill's debut graphic memoir, I struggled to grasp her perspective. O'Neill's father was left brain-dead following a drug overdose and O'Neill was encouraged by the hospital staff to quickly sign off on the donation of her father's organs and other viscera, leading O'Neill in her grief-stricken state to make a rather tenuous claim that a for-profit health care system, what? Negligently withholds care from impoverished addicts in order to fulfill the needs of wealthy white people for organ transplants? While I'm sure healthcare systems don't always act completely in good faith, this sort of conspiracy seems a little far-fetched. Is there a racial and financial discrepancy between donors and transplantees? Almost certainly. Is addiction a physical ailment and not a moral failure or weakness of will? Absolutely. But O'Neill seems to be unwilling to acknowledge her father's culpability or the fact that organ donation does a lot of good. I just wasn't on board with her whole vibe. I also didn't care for the structure of her presentation, using an imaginary lizard and Frankenstein's monster to give voice to aspects of her personality (she explicitly says as much, which seemed to demonstrate a lack of confidence in her storytelling); the conceit didn't really work and it seemed to exist just to pad the page count. I will say this: O'Neill's artwork was very nice; I found myself spending a good amount of time absorbing some of the panels, many of which she generously allowed to fill whole pages (more padding?). In the end, though, "Opioids And Organs" was a frustrating reading experience.
I picked this up because a lot of critics consider it among the best graphic novels released so far this year, and it's from Drawn and Quarterly, which is a publisher I trust. I didn't know much about the subject matter. The author's parents were brilliant, creative kids who were mostly ignored and therefore dropped out of school. They lived together with other young people and took a lot of drugs (at least the dad did). The dad became a heroin addict and died of a fentanyl overdose at 41. As next of kin, the author felt pressured by hospital staffers to allow the donation of all his organs. When she received a thank-you note and a family photo of the heart transplant recipient, it actually caused her more anguish than before. Her dad was also sick, with addiction, but his troubles were considered his own fault. Why does some other dad get sympathy and treatment and a new lease on life? Is it because that dad is rich and hers was poor?
This book is visually stunning, with meditations on Mary Shelley and Percy Shelley, Frankenstein, and Alice in Wonderland. There are trips to Ireland and to Paris (the Louvre and the catacombs). We "meet" this author's mother, who is a successful author herself. Throughout the book, Arizona O'Neill reflects on how poor and/or enslaved people have often been forced to serve richer people, even in death. For the most part, rich people's graves were not robbed, and the remains of rich people did not end up in the Paris catacombs. Their dignity was respected, even after death.
I'm still planning to donate my organs after I pass, but this book gave me a lot to think about in terms of who serves whom and why.
Arizona O’Neill’s father died of a fentanyl overdose at the age of 41. At the hospital, feeling pressured after being told he was brain-dead, Arizona signed the documents authorizing the withdrawal of life-sustaining treatment and the donation of his organs. Today, The rest of his body is alive out there in pieces, and it is driving her insane.
Canada’s opioid crisis is helping put an end to the organ shortage in our country. This makes her uncomfortable, leading her to question the ethics of the organ trade as she embarks on an investigation into the history of organ “donation.” While she’s on a research trip in Ireland, her mother—who is an excellent researcher and my all-time favourite author—helps her find documentation on the subject.
Arizona raised some troubling questions. The one that struck me the most is on page 234. Indeed, why would the government put an end to the opioid crisis when every death of a drug addict could potentially benefit eighty-three people waiting for treatment?
So many parts of Opioids & Organs rang true for me, like the bottoms of pages 308 and 309 where we see, at the Louvre, the magnificent and imposing yet neglected painting of The Raft of the Medusa, followed by the tiny Mona Lisa swamped by visitors. I love Arizona’s authentic self-portraiture, and I particularly appreciated the poetic quality of her illustrations, as well as the dark, bloody, and whimsical ones. I found the dedication in her book very fitting: To the parts of my father still out in the world.
Frankie and Izzy, Arizona’s symbolic alter egos, were fun and cute; they added a touch of humour to the story.
Not really sure what O'Neills's point was with this novel. The narrative is a confusing mix of her experience of grief with information that presents to be insightful on organ transplantation, but is really just random trivia that serves to illustrate her points and does not do justice to its complex reality. Organ transplantation is an issue of increasing importance, as is the opioid crisis, and whilst controversial opinions are always invited to enrich our collective perspective, it is misleading and dangerous to present facts in a biased and sometimes erroneous manner to further one's agenda.
I think the sections that focus on her individual experience coming to terms with her father's passing and subsequent organ donation are very interesting and well supported by her drawings. However, she dabbles in the rich history of organ transplantation with diverse disconnected moments taken out of context, and does not do justice to the reality that those of us who work in organ transplantation know or face everyday. These sections I fear might contribute to increase public misunderstanding of this already very controversial and yet extremely important topic.
* I wasn't gifted a copy of this book. I bought it myself as it was published on 21 April 2026 in Canada. * First off, graphic novels aren't a genre I naturally gravitate to but the topic of this one caught my attention. I was really looking forward to learning more about the link between the opioid crisis and organ donation. Unfortunately the book doesn't address that that much. So if you're hoping for an in depth dive into that subject, you're out of luck. But if you're interested in an overview of the history of death this is for you. If you're hoping for a mind opening read, this is for you. And if you enjoy having more questions at the end of your reading then you did at its beginning, this is definitely for you. I quite enjoyed the way the story is presented as if we are going along for a ride in the author's mind. I loved that it made me question things I thought I knew and that it made me want to research and learn more. And as all books published by Drawn& Quarterly the quality of the book itself is supreme.
Arizona O'Neill uses her grief over losing her father to an opioid overdose to illustrate this beautiful graphic novel about the ethics and uncomfortable questions about organ donation. I'm a big fan of organ donation, but I think people should be very transparent about it, and should be better about not pressuring people in the early stages of grief to donate organs of loved ones. I get that will mean not enough organs to help other people, but if we can't do it respectfully then maybe we shouldn't be harvesting organs in the first place. It would also make me feel weird to get organs from someone who was an addict; like doesn't that affect the organs in some way? I did think O'Neill drew an awkward hard line at times, but I appreciate her perspective.
Wow, what a beautiful and moving graphic memoir. I had been looking forward to reading this (after seeing an excerpt online), and it surpassed my expectations. This memoir explores the author’s experience with her father’s fentanyl overdose and her ambivalence about donating his organs: “It did not take me long to start feeling guilty about having given his organs back to a society that does not care about addicts.” Both the storytelling and art are beautiful. I knew some of the history of the first heart transplants, but I really appreciated how the author tied this together with Mary Shelly’s Frankenstein, the history of medical anatomy and grave robbing, Harvard Medical School, and the Paris catacombs. This would be a great addition to a pre-med or med school medical humanities or bioethics course. This book will stay with me for some time.
The author here takes a creative approach for a memoir of her experience with grief, facing mortality and learning so many unjust things about organ donation:
like how the opioid overdose epidemics have benefited medical access to those seeking organs but someone addicted to opioids would be the least likely candidate to receive an organ donation if needed. In the U.S black patients are half as likely to be placed on a list for a kidney transplant. Organ donations aren’t first come first serve basis, which I assumed. More so a lottery decided by doctors who harbour their own bias.
I really loved how this graphic novels author brought entertainment, education and storytelling out of her own life experience!
Can't stop thinking about this highly original graphic memoir investigating dark underbelly of human organ donation. When the author loses her estranged father to opioid addiction, her less-than-consensual agreement to donate his organs haunts her. To what extent do hospitals exploit the bodies of one of society's most stigmatized groups: victims of substance abuse? Poignant and funny, O'Neil's search for answers traverses memory, literature, and the historical record to unearth uncomfortable truths about the system that sacrifices some lives and extends others. Fans of Funhome (Alison Bechdel), Dear Mini (Natalie Norris), and Smoke Gets In Your Eyes (Caitlyn Doughty) will enjoy.
I loved Arizona's art style in Valentine in Montreal so I was very eager to get mt hands on a full book with her art.
The focus of this memoir is the author's process of learning about organ transplantation/ its relation to social inequalities/the opoid crisis while working through her grief with the fact that she signed the donation request for her brain dead father when she was a young adult.
This is a fascinating dive into her mind, it's weird it's quirky, it's interesting and you finish only wanting to flip more pages.
An easy, quick read with a unique perspective on the organ donation industry in North America and how we as a society view certain groups of people (re addicts who OD and then family is almost immediately being asked if their fresh organs can be used to help others).
A look into the surviving families thought processes/reactions to moving through a world where her father no longer exists, but somehow pieces of him are everywhere. The question of “what is life/living” and “what makes someone who they are” are looked at in this visually stimulating graphic novel depicting the authors journey through loss and understanding.
I'm not sure I agree with all of O'Neill's ideas she presents, but she presents them phenomenally and thoroughly . I loved the use of Frankenstein, Izzy (the lizard), and her added humor. Although bringing organ donation and the connection to the opioid crisis (specifically in Canada) to the surface was the main purpose, she touches upon several other important and very relevant topics of today.
The artwork was beautiful, the story was informative, complete, and entertaining. She even mentions cannibalism....just saying.
I will be reading Valentine in Montreal next and patiently awaiting ONeill's next book!
Les dessins de ce roman graphique sont juste magnifiques. J'ai beaucoup aimé le thème aussi : le père d'Arizona est mort d'une surdose, ses organes ont été donnés, et elle se demande si tout a été fait dans les règles de l'art. Je (comme tous les personnages du roman d'ailleurs) pars du principe que le don d'organe est une bonne chose, mais Arizona nous expose les côtés sombres de la chose...notamment le fait que les plus pauvres de la société, et les plus vulnérables, sont ceux qui donnent leurs organes aux autres depuis le début du processus. Ça porte à réfexion.
Congratulations to Arizona O’Neill for her debut graphic novel! I really enjoyed her pastel, whimsical style, especially paired with the macabre subject matter. With that being said, I think the questions posed were much more interesting than the answers explored. I thought that in many instances, the research was surprisingly shallow for a field that is as rich as medical research history and ethics. All in all, I wanted more from this, but it has definitely made me more interested in researching myself.
What a beautifully illustrated graphic novel and such a poignant journey to find some peace with the loss of a parent. I found parallels with the Empire of Pain book. It’s shocking when you start to learn about western medicine and how the abuse of marginalized communities have provided our “advancements”.
This was an interesting and thought provoking memoir/examination of organ donation ethics. I'd never really considered the imbalance social classes between donors and recipients, and the underlying implications of whose lives are valued more. Also I appreciated having a lizard and Frankie/Frankenstein along for the adventure. Look forward to reading more of Arizona's works.