A young man makes a rare excursion outside the comfort of his home to see a rock & roll show. That choice is met with violence and humiliation. When he calls out for help to his unresponsive savior (the sad sack cyborg CANKOR), it sets off a cherry bomb of psychedelic mayhem. A candy colored nightmare of tangled wires, bubbling flesh and the towering corpses of superhumans… CANKOR takes a deep dive into parts of the brain that are better left sealed. Michael DeForge meets Frank Quitely.
A personal story of self destruction and resurrection told through superhero symbolism with biomechanical body horror aplomb. Cankor marks the arrival of not only a new voice but perhaps the beginnings of an entire new language in comics.
God damn, I love me some Cankor. Is there any comic out there that is remotely, anything like Cankor? There is not. Because Cankor is a one of a kind stroke of awesomeness.
Equal parts memoir and bizarre, avant-garde parody. What I imagine Comic Books of Cruelty would look like had Antonin Artaud had grown up on 90s comics.
Review of the 2022 collected edition that compiles all CANKOR issues up to now.
What a beautifully drawn and surprisingly moving comic. I was not sure what to expect from this one, as I bought it on a whim, attracted to the psychedelic art on the cover and within its pages, but knowing nothing of the plot.
After reading the whole thing in one sitting, I understand very little of the plot. I would be hard-pressed to explain what this book is about on a plot level other than to say it’s a melding of a sci-fi space opera-ish story about a being called CANKOR and a memoir about a (fictionalized?) version of this comic’s author and artist Matthew Allison. The melding and juxtaposition of these two is the comic’s magic for me.
Reading this book was a strange experience. I felt confused often, sorting through pages and pages of (beautiful) psychedelic art. Dialogue is often sparse, but the images feel dense with symbolism. I enjoyed letting it wash over me, but I didn’t know what to make of it. Then, as I felt more and more adrift in the text, there would be a scene from the memoir portion of the plot that moved me and gave the sci fi stuff a depth and meaning that I didn’t feel before. Some of the stuff that Allison writes about his fictional self is difficult to read. I admired his vulnerability and openness; the book is better for it. These scenes about himself were small bursts of clarity that I could use to better (but not fully) understand the rest of the text. They felt like coming up for air when you’ve been underwater for a while: cathartic and relieving.
It’s also a book that made me sad. More than anything, this book felt like an exploration of anger—it’s effects on the body, the psyche, our relationships, and the way it holds us back from doing the things we want to do. In 2022, Allison’s anger resonated with me. While we are angry about different things, I recognized the weight of carrying that anger around. I sympathize with being angry, with wanting to unclench and be at peace, but not knowing how. I sympathize with disguising anger and with numbing oneself to dull its effect. Anger can make one feel adrift and alone. It takes a huge toll.
Allison has a lot to say about anger, addiction, realized and unrealized potential, the comics industry, and probably more stuff that I didn’t pick up on. Come for the incredible art, stay for the moving story. I read a lot of comics and this one is unique. I’m glad I picked it up.
I think this is about as good as it gets in terms of experimental comics. What appears at first glance to be an incredibly well drawn superhero comic quickly (and yet never fully) reveals itself to be so much more personal and complex, despite also being completely fragmented and largely confounding. This book doesn't just break the fourth wall, but collapses the very idea of walls and boundaries between artist and art to the point where you begin to suspect you might just be experiencing something as close to pure expression as you have experienced in comics ever before. A painfully honest glimpse at the most uncomfortable truths; addiction, mental illness, doubt, alienation, and cynicism - given physical form and left writhing on the page for all to witness - and more than anything, the eternal battle between the need to create and to connect with others, fighting and clawing against the utter contempt we can sometimes have towards ourselves and those around us. So no, this might not be a superhero comic, but in a lot of ways it puts to paper what that dichotomy of good versus evil that exists inside us really looks like more than just about anything else I have read in the genre. A major accomplishment as far as I am concerned and something I will think about for a long time.
Took me three reads to somewhat comprehend the story. Allison's artwork is bizarre but beautiful, and I thought the main themes of self-destruction and reconstruction were well delivered. However, I do think the chunks of the story is a bit too obtuse for me to fully connect with it. I will definitely re-visit this in the future, and I can see my opinion on this changing over time.
The art was great, reminded me of Charles Burns. I have no idea what the story was about or what was happening most of the time. But that being said Mathew Allison is on my radar now.
I’m not sure what the hell is happening in this comic but I like the art. The characters and designs are pretty nifty too. I just didn’t get it if there was anything to get. Cheers!