In THE MARGINS, artist Charley Keo’s new gig begins as a fun challenge to breathe new life into the forgotten pulp world of Elad - this time as a comic book. But as tendrils of this lost realm creep into her sleepy Portland neighborhood, Charley realizes that Elad is much more than the lines on a day-dreamt map, more than the sum of an old hack's prose. Elad has its hooks in Charley, and what was once fantasy has become deadly reality for both the artist and the woman she loves.
Co-written by David Accampo (LOST ANGELS, DC’s New Talent Showcase 2017) and Paul Montgomery (WORMWOOD: A SERIALIZED MYSTERY, Panels.net) and illustrated by debut artist Amanda Donahue, the graphic novel examines the dual nature of an artist's creative process in providing a healthy outlet for self-expression, as well as an unhealthy mechanism for avoidance and isolation. At its core, THE MARGINS serves as an allegory for the growing trend of gatekeeping and its devastating ramifications.
The Margins (stylized as the MARGinS.) is a graphic novel written by David Accampo and Paul Montgomery, illustrated by Amanda Donahue and published by Fanbase Press. After three consecutive titles about super heroes (Quince, Hero Hotel, and The Gamma Gals), The Margins sees Fanbase Press’ foray into a new genre: magical realism.
The graphic novel, composed of four chapters, begins with Gordy discovering and reading a pulpy, sword and planet story penned by Simon Kent, his great grandfather who disappeared at sea during the 1930s. Gordy has the idea of turning the story, titled “Typhon Creed and the Paradise Paradox” into a comic book and contracts the artwork to Charley. Charley and her significant other Rita have recently moved to Portland Oregon and are trying to not just fit in with their new home, but also with each other. As Charley works more and more on “Typhon Creed”, the real world and the world of Elad became blurred. A returning Kent tries to stop the encroachment of the two worlds by any means necessary.
The Margins is a pretty heavy comic in terms of themes. Inherently, a comic book about creating a comic book will contain some meta commentary about the creative process: where do our ideas come from? What is the struggle to execute them? According the the text, the world of Elad has always existed and Kent simply mined it for his own stories, and in the process he gave things names (and meaning?). Charley’s artistic interpretation of Kent’s text further brings the world of Elad alive (and infringing into the real world). The Margins tackles this concept by depicting the real world in black, white and shades of grey while the world of Elad and its denizens in vibrant colours. It’s a tactic that has been used in films before: the black and white real world and the Land of Oz in The Wizard of Oz, the blending of the perfect world and a more “realistic” world in Pleasantville, or even simply to call attention to object and heighten the sense of surrealism as in Von Trier’s Europa. The stark contrast of the muted real world and the world of Elan works for The Margins. Goblins and magical fruit that pop up in the real world really stand out. They greyscale of the real world has the perhaps unintended side of effect of conveying an outsider's impression of the Pacific Northwest: always cloudy, dreary and about to rain.
A second theme The Margins tackles is that of connectivity, though less successful than with the theme of creativity. It’s heavily implied that Rita and Charley’s relationship is still in its early stages. It can be assumed that they had a long distance relationship, with Rita from San Diego and Charley from Toronto with them both moving to Portland being a compromise. It’s a bit of interpretation to suss out how solidified their relationship is: it appears Rita is the stronger, driving force behind it, trying to both normalize their life and their life in the new city. Luckily by the story’s end their relationship seems to find the definition they’ve both been searching for. Gordy’s and Charley’s relationship though is even less defined. Gordy has the brilliant idea that Charley is just the person to draw the comic book, yet after this point The Margins makes it crystal clear that Charley doesn’t quite know who Gordy is. There is no implied prior professional relationship or any reason why Gordy think’s Charley is the best artist for the job. It’s a small hangup, but with Gordy being more or less the catalyst for the entire story, it’s pretty important to flesh out his role in the connectivity of it all.
Conversely, the final theme The Margins plays with, much more successfully, is exactly what the title implies: what’s at the margins. In this case, The Margins has a dual meaning: the aforementioned blending of worlds (the world of imagination, the world we pluck our ideas from that exists at the borders of our real world) but also of marginalized peoples. As with previous Fanbase Press titles of Quince and The Gamma Gals, representation of marginalized groups is important, and The Margins follows this trend: Rita is a Latino-American and in a same-sex relationship with the Asian-American Charley. As the main protagonist, Charley is fleshed out with her motives and her creative struggle. Rita, though, is the complete show stealer within the entire comic: she is the most expressionistic (Donahue is on her “A” game depicting Rita) and her demeanor is infectious to the reader. In a way, as Elad intrudes into the real world of The Margins, The Margins intrudes into the real world of the reader via how stand out Rita is.
The Margins is probably Fanbase Press’ most experimental title to date, but don’t let experimental imply that it is not accessible. The comic is quite exciting, engaging, inventive, with a concise art style that borrows a little bit from manga. It’s an ambitious graphic novel that is executed by Accampo, Montgomery, and Donahue quite superbly.
An intriguing premise that feels like it wants just a little bit more room to breathe, "The Margins" makes for an engaging debut for co-creators Paul Montgomery and Amanda Donahue along with their more seasoned accomplice David Accampo.
As might be expected from the title, this is a bit of a metacomic, a concept that in more amateurish hands could easily have crumbled under its own weight. Instead, we get a thoroughly enjoyable experimentation with form, with Donahue flexing different stylistic muscles as the layers demand while Accampo and Donahue underscore how different authorial voices can dramatically shift a story.
My chief complaint is that there isn't more here -- a tough ask, I know, where small press is concerned. Pacing, particularly in the latter chapters, seems a little rushed. New characters are introduced that suggest a backstory and import well beyond the story space they are given. The mechanism of the final act's resolution doesn't feel like it has yet been entirely earned.
But this is minor griping in the grand scheme of things; if anything, it means that the team has created a world and mythos that demand to transcend a single volume; demand, in other words, to push beyond the margins.
This "veil is thin" fantasy world/real world intersection story reminded me of comics like Helen of Wyndhorn and The Unwritten.
I really liked the difference in inks and colors between the two different worlds and how the art styles combine when "the veil" gets thin. Even though the real world was drawn in black and white it still felt lived in and passionate.
I love Rita as a character, and I love Charley and Rita's dynamic. I would absolutely eat at Rita's food cart and fight goblins with her.