Estrellas oscuras

Black Stars Above (Single Issues) #1-5

by Lonnie Nadler, Jenna Cha (Illustrator), Raúl Sastre (Translator)

Una joven trampera deja atrás a su familia para perderse en un onírico bosque invernal que oculta una amenaza cósmica.

Corre el año 1887, y Eulalie Dubois ha pasado toda su juventud siguiendo el modo de vida de su familia, aislada del resto del mundo. Pero la libertad le llega en forma de un extraño paquete que debe entregar en una ciudad sin nombre que está al norte. Pero en el bosque hay algo siniestro que desea con fervor lo que ella está transportando.

Una historia de terror cósmico y supervivencia de las perturbadas mentes de Lonnie Nadler (The Dregs, Marvelous X-Men) y la artista debutante Jenna Cha.

Genres: Horror, Comics, Graphic Novels, Historical Fiction, Fiction, Fantasy, Lovecraftian

160 pages, Hardcover

First published June 9, 2020

About the author

Lonnie Nadler is a writer from Vancouver, BC.

Reviews

[Chad · Rating 2 out of 5]

A slow burn to the point of boredom. A trapper's daughter is hired to deliver a package to the far north of Canada. She immediately opens it and surrogates the baby eldritch horror within. Almost nothing happens in this and it's burdened down with so many words. I've read a couple of comics by Lonnie Nadler and I've decided he really wants to write a prose novel instead of comics. Newcomer Jenna Cha's art is really good though.

[Kristin · Rating 2 out of 5]

Lovecraftian gobbledygook that might actually make sense if I could read *any* of the microscopic cursive that makes up 70% of the text.

[Nat · Rating 2 out of 5]

Motivation for reading - this horror graphic novel came highly recommended in an article I read online. Figured I would give it a try in parallel to reading a prose novel I'm working through.

Review: The art was spectacular here, but I found the story to be a slow burn to the point of boredom. I didn't connect with the protagonist and the suspense just wasn't there. I've seen other reviews mention the hard to read cursive and I'm in total agreement. I don't usually notice the lettering in graphic novels, but I noticed it here. The cursive is tiny and I couldn't read it at night with my bedside lamp. It would probably have been an easier read on a tablet so I could zoom in as necessary. It was supposed to look like real writing from the main character's journal, but it looked way too precise to be hand written. In short- worth it for the art alone.

[Rod Brown]

Did we need really proof that Lovecraftian horror can be narrated by someone other than nervous and erudite young white men from England or New England?

In 1887, a young woman named Eulalie Dubois, the daughter of a French trapper and his First Nations wife, tries to escape a dreary future that includes an arranged marriage and tending to the small cabin in the Ontario woods where she has spent her whole life. So she runs away from home, pinning her finances on a delivery commissioned by a mysterious man she meets at the local trading post. She sets off through the woods to the north in a snowstorm that takes on a life and increasing malevolence the farther she advances.

It doesn't take long before the cry of "Tekeli-li" tips those in the know that -- like the stories of Lovecraft and Poe before him -- this arctic journey is going to go awry in the most bizarre . . . and annoying . . . of ways.

I'm not a fan of Lovecraftian horror with its overwritten narration, gloominess, and vague sense of foreboding. And as if the ponderous nature of Eulalie's captions wasn't bad enough, the book comes to a screeching halt with eight pages of solid text, an extract from the journal of a nervous young white man writing his own Lovecraftian "heart of darkness" trek dreck. There's at least an attempt to tie all this tedious and ominous drivel into a slam against manifest destiny and white supremacy, but it gets blown about and lost in the blizzard of words.

Speaking of words, the cursive font seemed especially small and hard to read for my old eyes. I wonder if the younger generation of readers who didn't learn cursive in school will even bother trying to read this.

Lovely art, at least. I hope to see Jenny Cha given a shot at a better script sometime in the future.


FOR REFERENCE:

Contents: Chapter One. the moon ladder -- Chapter Two. the world unfolding before us -- Chapter Three. minerva's owl -- Chapter Four. destroyer of ice + sickness of serpents -- Chapter Five. to hold all in one's hands

[Fernando · Rating 4 out of 5]

Mucho por decir de este cómic que se resume en: de los mejores leídos en mi vida. Estupendamente editado por Editorial Hidra, a la que seguiré muy de cerca.

No sólo la ilustración es adecuada y soberbia sino que demuestra cómo seguir trabajando sobre una cosmogonía ciclópea creando nuevas sendas contemporáneas (en su perspectiva) pero tratando a la herencia con un enorme y respetuoso cariño, incluso devoción. Tanto las escenas como las reflexiones plantean unas profundas dudas filosóficas que amplían el concepto del Horror Cósmico de Lovecraft hacia premisas como la epistemología y la ontología o, más bien, la imposibilidad de las mismas, lo que nos condena a estar encerrados en nuestros propias e idiosincráticas mentes y almas, en el armazón limitado de nuestro cuerpo que se alimenta de los sentidos limitados para aprehender tanto la realidad auténtica como la información que proviene de ella.

No obstante, nuestra enorme arrogancia y curiosidad malsana nos empuja a buscar un sentido a una existencia para el que nuestro paradigma no está hecho, parafraseando el texto: "El mundo no ha sido creado para que se conozca". Esa frase de un viejo amargado tiene muchísima más complejidad de la que aparenta (aparte de servir como crítica contra la cerrazón pura y, paradójicamente, defensa de la misma) en este relato breve, lánguido e intenso, que también camina por temas como el feminismo, el determinismo, la maternidad, la responsabilidad y el amor, no el amor romántico, el Amor de verdad, la vida como una estrella oscura que nunca podremos aprehender.

Realmente, un volumen que debería estar en toda biblioteca contemporánea que se precie de contar con buenas historias en sus estantes, narradas de manera deliciosa.

No es que valga la pena, brilla como una estrella desconocida.

[Ben Long · Rating 4 out of 5]

“𝘓𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘐 𝘴𝘢𝘸 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘭𝘥. 𝘐 𝘴𝘢𝘸 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦. 𝘐 𝘴𝘢𝘸 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘴”

Forgive me as I attempt to put words to the s̶t̶o̶r̶y̶ m̶i̶n̶d̶f̶*̶c̶k̶ experience I just had. My mind is still reeling!

To say this book is simply about a girl who leaves home for a dangerous, spooky adventure is seriously underselling the material. Yet I'm struggling with how best to write about it. There's so many layers happening simultaneously that it's difficult to express an opinion without divulging too much.

I love the way the story is told and the strong cosmic horror elements. The format of narration-through-journal-entries gives it the feel of an old school text-based horror game, or maybe one of HP Lovecraft's short stories (especially because, ya know, "cosmic horror"). I particularly like how during the narration there will be times that words/phrases are crossed out and rewritten, and by studying what was changed it gives you a greater understanding/appreciation for the character's internal emotions and perspective. It also has lots of great bizarre and unsettling scenes, plus that constant sense of dread I adore.

It's a massive metaphor about coming of age, going out on one's own, and identity - and yet it's also so much more. There are so many little nuggets of musing that bubble out of a melting pot of philosophies. But what does it all mean?

Either Nadler is high as a kite and these are the ramblings of a madman, full of sound and fury and signifying nothing... or he's much smarter than me and this is a deeply profound portrait of humanity and coming into adulthood. I prefer to think the latter. Either way this was great!

[Zac Thompson · Rating 5 out of 5]

Sublime literary horror that channels the best of weird fiction. If you're looking for something that expands on the work of Lovecraft - look no further. Fans of Alan Moore will eat this up. Beautiful, stunning, and haunting work by Cha throughout. Easily the best horror comic of the year.

[Cheryl · Rating 4 out of 5]

Really three and a half stars. Lovecraftian graphic novel set in the 1887 Canadian wilderness. Great artwork and a creepy story. The font for Eulalie's thoughts was very small, though, and hard to read. You might want to get an ebook version so you can enlarge the font if needed.

[James Pare · Rating 5 out of 5]

Easily the best comic of the last year, horror or otherwise. At once a loving tribute to weird fiction while blazing it’s own path into something new and terrifying. The art by Jenna Cha has to be seen to be believed. A superstar ready to explode onto the mainstream.

[Germán · Rating 4 out of 5]

Un 4/5 alto y mejor no decir mucho más. Sí, se vende como horror cósmico y de eso hay, pero no es una más de esas (lamentablemente, cada vez más numerosas) obras que tiran del adjetivo "lovecraftiano" para atraer la atención y luego contar algo ya visto. También admito que no cuento mucho ya no por no reventar media trama, sino porque creo que en una primera lectura hay muchas cosas que no se pillan, así que me quedaría cojo. Historia pequeña pero densa que merece relecturas.

[Matty Dub · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book gives a masterclass in setting atmosphere. It was a genuinely uncomfortable read. The thing with cosmic horror though is it’s only creepy until they show you what you were afraid of since the start of the book. Once you see how silly and nonsensical it is (in the last chapter), the book loses its magic.

It’s still a strong 4 stars for the memorable journey reading it was though.

[Neil · Rating 3 out of 5]

Very creepy atmosphere, good setup for the protagonist heading out into very infrequently trod terrain. But wound up without much plot development at all. Final act was especially disappointing.

[Sachal Ali · Rating 5 out of 5]

A chilling Lovecraftian story with a refreshing choice of setting and protagonist, and genuine heart beneath the horror. But the real highlight here is the absolutely gorgeous art from start to finish. Knew this was going to be special the moment I saw it on the shelf.

[Daniel A. · Rating 5 out of 5]

A friend of mine who maintains a regular blog on comics, both new and classic, listed Black Stars Above as one of his favorites of 2020. I'm not often a fan of horror on the printed page (to this day, I refuse to read The Exorcist because of my dad's report that he stayed up all night to read it, because he was too terrified to go to sleep while still in the middle of the book; I also haven't ever been able to finish either of the movies based on The Shining), but I'm gratified to say that Black Stars Above, while unrelentingly and unmitigatedly creepy and unnerving and disturbing, was able to overcome my usual reticence.

Lonnie Nadler's writing on the book is skillful and clever; Nadler's technique of having lead character Eulalie Dubois repeatedly scratch out and rewrite entries in the supernatural journal that she . . . finds as reality bends and warps is inspired, to say the least, helped immensely by letterer Hassan Otsmane-Elhaou's efforts. But where Black Stars Above makes its hay is in Jenna Cha's art and Brad Simpson's colors. Cha's art is surreal and expressive, not to mention accompanies the creepiness of Nadler's writing marvelously, and Simpson's largely sepia tones, so expertly used in service of historical fiction—and coupled with his subtlety when conveying anything other than those sepia tones—meld perfectly, and the sum of Black Stars Above is greater than its parts. Add to this that lead character Eulalie Dubois is Canadian Métis—and that Nadler, Cha, and co. are deeply respectful of the culture of the Indigenous peoples of Canada even as Nadler, Cha, and co. describe the inexorable tides of modernity creeping into the wilds of the Great White North in the late 19th century—and the graphic novel isn't like most of the stuff you'll find out there. (I've never before heard of publisher Vault Comics, either, and I'm not even sure where they're headquartered, but if this is their standard output, they stand to gain a loyal audience rather quickly.)

I've got a soft spot for SF/F/H that's unusual in some way, and while I can't always define it, I know it when I see it; perhaps my favorite example is Edward Neumeier and Michael Miner and José Padilha's 2014 remake of RoboCop, which I found to be substantive science fiction in a way that the original just wasn't, and which has stuck with me ever since, followed closely by Joel and Ethan Coen's truly masterful adaptation of True Grit. Along these lines, Black Stars Above is going to be—and is currently—one of those graphic novels that's going to stick with me for quite some time. Nadler and Cha's efforts are a thing of real beauty on Black Stars Above, even amidst the book's literal and figurative darkness, and the book merits being read slowly and thoughtfully, and mulled over for as long as the reader can reasonably do so.

[CAW · Rating 5 out of 5]

Oof, all these editions are confusing.

Look, if you love cosmic horror and historical settings, you will love this. If you love Lovecraft but wish he'd produced something that hearked to female/Indiginous themes, or desperate to read something that speaks honestly about First Nations/women without exploiting trauma, here you go.

It's Lovecraft without Lovecraft: madness and strange spheres and a slowly shattering cosmos, pain seeping through the cracks not from malice but from the innate incompatability of realms not intended to share the same space. The incursors are not 'evil', though the cultists' interpretation of their wants through human brains certainly leads to human wickedness, morality warped and damaged by trying to run the incomprehensable through mammal thought. Eulalie is brave and strong and more human than any for being so simultaneously breakable and lost.

Best of all, it knows it's a graphic novel: I don't know that I've ever seen such deft use of the medium outside Emily Caroll's almost picturebook-like fables. This isn't standard panels that hark to prose nor distractingly flashy experimental work: it's getting What Cannot Be Known into a format that does not fit in words but almost in pictures. It's breathtaking. Read this book.

[Jode · Rating 4 out of 5]

After a brief prologue with a silent, doomed hunter in snow-covered woods, we follow our protagonist Eulalie, a half-French, half-Michif Native Canadian young woman. She is the only daughter of a trapper family living in a remote cabin in 1880s Canada.

The trapper trade is suffering from a lack of animals to catch, and lack of demand for muskrat skins. And so her family, consisting of mother, father, and crippled grandfather showing signs of dementia, have fallen on hard times. In desperation, Eulalie's parents have decided to take jobs with the HB Company (a clothing retailer), and struck a deal to marry their daughter off to the son of an HBC manager.

And so, when a strange man stops Eulalie while she's running an errand in town and offers to pay her $200 to deliver a package to a remote, nameless town far North of the forest, she takes the opportunity to run away. Her harrowing journey through the frigid, mysterious woods begins....

Throughout the book, Eulalie narrates in the form of journal entries from some undisclosed point in the future, reflecting on and trying to make sense of this strange journey. It's a nod to the clear influence of Lovecraft, but it does work for the story. Large swathes of this comic feature silent panels of Eulalie struggling to survive and navigate the wilderness, with about half the panels including commentary on the situation from her journal. The art in these scenes grounds the story in the natural world, while the journal entries imply and foreshadow the weird shit bound to happen. Which, being a cosmic horror story, it does.

Once things get weird, the art blows up, and gives the otherworldly a distinct feel from the more gritty, naturalistic presentation from before. This is also reflected in the panel layouts. Comic frames distort in shape or line, reflecting the tension or horror of a given scene. Or the frames disappear, the art from moment-to-moment blending into a single splash page.

In addition to the comics language, color use is also effective, from the earth tones of Eulalie's family cabin, to the unforgiving blues of the frozen woods, to the sparing use of red to punctuate and draw attention to important elements.

But is it SCARY? Well, your mileage, as always with horror, will vary. This story in particular leans more into the existential dread of the cosmic beyond understanding, and the psychological toll exacted by harsh and/or supernatural conditions. While Eulalie endures and witnesses horrifying situations, she generally acquits herself well, the journal impressing the innocence and humanity she loses along the way. The ending is rather too neat for most cosmic horror, but there is an ambiguity there as well.

Personally, I found it more interesting than scary. I find myself waffling on whether or not the journal was explaining too much instead of showing, or grounding the story and giving insight into Eulalie's state of mind we wouldn't have otherwise. It can be argued either way. But overall, it's a technically well-executed comic, with Lovecraftian inspiration, and a psychological study with horror elements. Recommend, but know that it does get wordy.

[Travis · Rating 4 out of 5]

"The clouds themselves were monstrous ruins awaiting collapse."

Black Stars Above was one of my more highly anticipated Vault Comics in late 2019. The promise of a weird Lovecraftian tale was right up my alley. And boy does it deliver on that promise. You really feel a descent into madness as Eulalie Dubois ventures further north with her odd package.

This is a very atmospheric story. The plot of the middle three issues largely boils down to "Eulalie wanders through the forest during a blizzard", but the first person narration manages to slowly creep up the tension. That first person perspective helps drive home the Lovecraft comparison, but also adds to the weird factor as Eulalie notes the oddity of the book she's writing in. The snow and forest have to play the roles of other characters.

Near the end of the third issue, you're suddenly hit with eight solid pages of handwritten prose. That takes some guts to do in a single issue of a monthly comic. It also highlights the more literary nature of this comic, but not in a pretentious way. Across the entire five issues, be prepared to read more than a usual comic book (outside of something like Alan Moore).

That said, that narration can be a joy to read. Some of the narration is beautiful. One that jumped off the page at me: "It existed as though it were miscarried from another world." The dialogue is not the greatest, though. It makes use of some dialects, which are always more difficult to parse while reading than is worth the effort for its effect. Stephen King does this fairly often to varying degrees of success.

The ending is suitably mysterious. It's not a hard and fast conclusion. There's no ultimate confrontation with an Elder God or anything. But it fits the story. Still, the final issue, once Eulalie reaches the northern village, isn't as good as the previous issues, partially due to the lack of cohesive explanations of anything followed by a fairly mundane escape. I wasn't as disappointed as some previous Vault Comics, like Test Vol. 1, and I'm not sure of any other better way to end it, so it's good as is.

Another fine entry in the Vault Comics lineup.

[Rick Ray · Rating 3 out of 5]

Set in rural Ontario in 1887, Eulalie Dubois, a daughter of a French trapper and a First Nations woman, flees her bleak future as an indentured wife. Promised a small fortune for the delivery of a mysterious parcel, Eulalie's journey amidst the snowy and dreary Canadian wilderness is met with an encroaching darkness. A Lovecraftian undertone permeates Black Stars Above, capably realized by debut cartoonist Jenna Cha's scratchy compositions. The story is not quite as riveting as the atmospheric tension, though it works well enough to service the underlying horror aspects.

What detracts is the overwritten narration, with Eulalie's every thoughts added into packed caption boxes in each panel. Adding to the fact that the text can be hard to read at times due to flowery cursive lettering, the over-narration results in a tedious reading experience. Not to mention there is a lengthy full prose section in the middle, it's very clear that writer Lonnie Nadler is trying to channel H.P. Lovecraft a little too much. Despite the captivating mystery and gorgeous horror undertones, the end product doesn't quite live up to the promise.

[Ozsaur · Rating 4 out of 5]

That was quite an experience! The story and artwork blended to tell a surreal tale of cosmic horror, but also of survival. Survival not only of the body, but of the self, and for a better future.

A young woman decides to defy her parents to deliver a package to a town on the other side of the forest in the middle of winter. The winter scenes were rendered beautifully. The story is mostly colored in somber tones, which suited the story.

Trying to explain the story isn't easy. The story flows in and out of reality, but is it? Eulalie only wants to survive the cold and reach her destination so she can get paid for the delivery. But she runs into some weird stuff. I don't want to spoil anything but there's some creepy stuff happening.

I enjoyed the story, but wish the ending had been foreshadowed better. I didn't entirely get what happened, but I'll definitely get the next book to find out. The art worked very nicely with the story.

[Richard Franklin · Rating 5 out of 5]

Atmospheric and creepy. Like if Lovecraft and Twin Peaks had a baby in the old west during the dead of winter. This book surprised the hell out of me and I loved it.

[Ryan Mandelbaum · Rating 5 out of 5]

I am really at a total loss of words trying to describe this one, but I think this could be one of my favourite horror stories ever. Suffocatingly atmospheric and viscerally immersive, I felt myself sucked in to this story in a way that is very rare, leaving me with a chill in my bones and a looming sense of dread. A tale of cosmic implications that observes man's need to conquer nature and the infinite, while also dealing with much more grounded, societally relevant themes of colonization, gender, and the pursuit of ones own answers within a society that seeks to define the world for us.

[Sam Z · Rating 4 out of 5]

I really, really liked the atmosphere of this book. I could feel the biting chill in the room with me, the art is gorgeous and the mystery is intriguing. I didn't understand the plot resolution though. The town in the sky seemed to whip between accepting and good, and terrible and bad- something that could've been a plot device had Eulalie not failed to notice completely. It needs another reread for sure, but I'm not sure what I'll clarify, if anything.

[Bjorn · Rating 4 out of 5]

Slow burn cosmic horror/historical fiction. I'm not yet sure what to make of it, honestly. I'll reread it at some point, I'm sure, and I think it deserves another read. It's a denser text than I was expecting.

[Veronica Bosley · Rating 4 out of 5]

Jenna Cha’s art is mesmerizing. The page layout is beautiful and I love turning the whole book upside down sometimes to get a clearer view. I don’t know that I totally get the story but the vibes are great and that goes a long way in my book.

[Charles Etheridge-Nunn · Rating 5 out of 5]

A quiet and interesting tale of cosmic horror in the cold darkness of the late 1800's.

[Chloe H. · Rating 4 out of 5]

A fascinating bit of high-concept graphic horror. I always like Lovecraftian content that critiques whiteness, and this book does that in a really interesting way.

[Amy · Rating 4 out of 5]

1887 - a young woman flees her family’s home to find more for her life and expand her world. Except it’s also cosmic horror and there’s so much more to it than that!

[Melissa · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is everything I want in a scary book.

[Daniel Kovacs Rezsuk · Rating 5 out of 5]

The best Lovecraftian horror comic I have ever read.

[Mae ❀ Paper Rêveries · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.5 black stars out of 5

"What little the world allows us to know only comes to be known after it's been experienced.

By then, it's always too late.

This is one of the toughest reviews I've had to make. I both loved it and hated it.

Black Stars Above is a refreshing take on Lovecraftian sci-fi horror. The art is incredibly unsettling from beginning to end, and rarely have I spent multiple days sifting through a single graphic novel, wanting to absorb as much as possible. I found Eulalie Dubois to be a fascinating main character, perseverant while remaining introspective.

But here are the drawbacks: The text attempted to be so poetic it became cryptic, at times clunky. While I appreciated the parallels they were trying to make to colonialism, "half breedism", and the isolation caused by Eulalie's inability to fit into either of her cultural backgrounds, the execution of it all was too muddy for me.

Maybe it should've been longer? Would've given more time to explore certain branches of the storyline that were incredibly interesting but sped through. It certainly could've made aspects of the plot clearer.

This isn't a book I'll be quick to forget, however, so I suppose the story was still a success.