REVIEW OF THE ENTIRE SERIES
When I was 6 or 7, my neighbor had a few of these books, and one of the strongest memories of my entire life is sitting on his floor poring over the scene in book 3 or 4 where Trisha drives away with her dad and blinks her flashlight across her yard at Amelia later that night, seemingly sending a message that can't be decoded except as a feeling of the profound loneliness and confusion and deep love of a childhood friendships. I so vividly remember reading that chapter and thinking, "I can almost understand this, and I don't know what it means, but I know how it makes me feel," and wanting to read it again when I was older so less of it would be lost on me.
I never quite forgot it, but I never returned to the series until almost 15 years later and I finally found the time to get them all from the library. The feeling of remembering reading a few out-of-order volumes as a child and desperately wanting to know what happened next, and then finally having all of them stacked in order next to my bed, is probably the most rewarding part of adulthood I've experienced so far.
I've read a lot of comics, and this series stands out as an amazing piece of art. The actual illustration style is fine, but the way the drawings and use of layout carry the story is genius. Everything is conveyed so gracefully and so effectively I found myself wanting to take notes for my own work.
The story itself is remarkable in its mundanity. Successfully telling stories about childhood, meant for a young audience, is incredibly rare—everything is either too dumbed down, or too intense for children. Somehow this book handles topics like, divorce, death, terminal illness, stalking, heartbreak, and immeasurable more that don't fit into any convenient label—all in a way that doesn't flinch from the difficult reality, while still being appropriate for readers the age of the characters. The deep and complex emotions and thoughts of the characters, both children and grown-ups, surpasses a lot of media for adults. The story and its delivery are so special precisely because there IS nothing special about the story—the characters could be any bunch of goofy, complicated, painfully real kids, and that's why it's so perfect. The entire run of the series spans something like two years of in-story time, but in that time, the characters change and grow and learn so much, reading all of it in a few days made me breathless. After finishing the last book, I was sad in the most confusing way—I felt almost heartbroken, but not sad, somehow. I couldn't sleep for remembering myself as a tiny kid sitting on my friend's hardwood floor burying myself in this story, wondering what I'd be like when I was nine, and suddenly lying in my bed as a twenty-year-old feeling simultaneously like so much time had gone by and none at all. I was overwhelmed by how small I felt, by the profound awareness of the bigness of the world and the incomprehensible number of people in it whose lives could, for all intents and purposes, be my own. For a series I didn't finish for almost fifteen years, these books had an unbelievably strong impact on me. For all that it essentially just elevates the stories going on around us everyday, this series is one of the best works of storytelling I've ever encountered, and I can't think of many books I've read even as an adult that make this look like kid stuff.