The art in this book is exquisite. Wow. Beautiful, print-like, lots of black ink and classic cartoony expressions. Powerful and also in places heart-breakingly adorable.
The concept, though, like the art, is pretty black and white, and while that works for the art, it doesn't work as well for the story. There is little for the reader to ponder at the end because the message is handed to them not unlike the bunny-for-dinner, given by the butcher to the fox in the first chapter of the book. Handed across the counter, nicely wrapped.
In this wordless "funny", a short graphic novel or an extra long Sunday strip, there is a lot to admire. A great title and a beautiful cover with a hopping fox in a bunny outfit. An endearing protagonist, a lovely foxbunny who not only feels bad for the bunnies the foxes torment, but who identifies deeply with these bunnies and experiences themself as a bunny. Early in the book the creature we identify as fox puts on a bunny suit and looks in the mirror. It is a classic scene in many movies about queer and especially transgender folks, that as children they dress as the "opposite" sex and look in the mirror and pose or strut around. This is what our foxbunny friend does.
So, there is definitely some queer trope-ing happening here. Meanwhile, at least one goodreads reviewer called attention to the parallels with Maus. Allegory is happening. The brutal predators and the tragically preyed upon. This is a book about oppression and queerness or difference, and the ways folks try to beat it out of us in one way or another. Those who would have us disseminate their cultural systems can be violent and insistent forces, brutal, and they have many tactics for imprinting upon us their powerful formations.
I struggle a bit with the bunny versus fox symbolism. Natural predators aren't bad or evil and in this particular scenario, the use of the predator and the preyed upon doesn't allow for the subtleties of relationships and character and power dynamics to emerge. In Maus the dynamics between cats and mice works in a very different way. The story is more in-depth and complex, the autobiography not so hidden in allegory (or, both obscured and revealed by allegory), the relationship between cartoon world and real world, history and allegory, is explored and crafted with a very different intimacy, pathos and humor.
I love the protagonist in this book and the question of how to survive and function in a culture in which violence toward those perceived as other and performance of a particular kind of selfhood are so brutally policed. But the cartooniness that makes the book so compelling and gorgeous becomes an over-simplification that doesn't do the exploration justice.
I'm giving this book a four. I am not a big fan of stars, but let's just say a 5 for art and a 3 for story divided by two = 4. I look forward to encountering more of Andy Hartzell's work.