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Árduo amanhã
Hannah tem trinta e poucos anos, trabalha na área de saúde domiciliar e é ativista antiguerra. Seu marido, Johnny, é um maconheiro que passa os dias em casa trabalhando – ou “trabalhando” – na construção de uma casa antes que o frio do inverno chegue. Eles moram na traseira de um caminhão, à espera de uma gravidez que parece que nunca virá. Com as pernas para cima para uma maior chance de concepção, Hannah vasculha os Reddits de fertilidade enquanto Johnny sonha com uma grande e variada horta para garantir que tenham sustento suficiente caso o fim dos tempos chegue, o que, dada a frágil democracia em que vivem, não parece algo tão distante. Ajudando Hannah na luta por um futuro melhor está sua melhor amiga Gabby, uma naturalista quer que ela idolatra e que a adora. E Johnny, em sua missão de construir a casa, conta com a ajuda de Tyler, um teórico da conspiração obcecado por suas próprias noções nebulosas da realidade.
Sobre a obra
Narrado em um futuro próximo indefinido, Árduo amanhã concilia momentos de profunda conexão humana a outros de medo, ameaças e insegurança.A percepção astuta de Davis sobre as ansiedades do futuro levanta uma questão fundamental: o que acontecerá depois de amanhã?
Sobre a obra
Narrado em um futuro próximo indefinido, Árduo amanhã concilia momentos de profunda conexão humana a outros de medo, ameaças e insegurança.A percepção astuta de Davis sobre as ansiedades do futuro levanta uma questão fundamental: o que acontecerá depois de amanhã?
152 pages, Kindle Edition
First published October 8, 2019
14 people are currently reading
2714 people want to read
About the author
Eleanor Davis
37 books375 followersMy name is Eleanor Davis. I’m a cartoonist and illustrator. A collection of my short comics for adults, How To Be Happy, is out now from Fantagraphics Books. I have two graphic novels for kids: The Secret Science Alliance and the Copycat Crook (2009) which I created with my husband Drew Weing, and the easy-reader Stinky (2008). I live in Athens, Georgia.
Clients include: The New Yorker, The New York Times, Google, The Wall Street Journal, Plansponser, MIT Tech Review, Lucky Peach, Nautilus, Time Magazine, Telerama, Slate, BusinessWeek, The Washington Post, The Guardian, Oxford American, Nobrow Press, BUST Magazine, Charlex NYC, Fantagraphics Books, Dutton, TOON Books, First Second Books, Houghton Mifflin, Workman Publishing, and Bloomsbury Books.
Awards and recognition include: Society of Illustrators – Gold and Silver; Eisner Nominee (Secret Science Alliance); Print Magazine’s New Visual Artists 2009; Theodor Seuss Geisel Honor (Stinky); Russ Manning Award (Stinky); Best American Comics 2008 + cover & Best American Comics 2013. In nursery school I got a ribbon for “Best Fine Motor Skills.”
Clients include: The New Yorker, The New York Times, Google, The Wall Street Journal, Plansponser, MIT Tech Review, Lucky Peach, Nautilus, Time Magazine, Telerama, Slate, BusinessWeek, The Washington Post, The Guardian, Oxford American, Nobrow Press, BUST Magazine, Charlex NYC, Fantagraphics Books, Dutton, TOON Books, First Second Books, Houghton Mifflin, Workman Publishing, and Bloomsbury Books.
Awards and recognition include: Society of Illustrators – Gold and Silver; Eisner Nominee (Secret Science Alliance); Print Magazine’s New Visual Artists 2009; Theodor Seuss Geisel Honor (Stinky); Russ Manning Award (Stinky); Best American Comics 2008 + cover & Best American Comics 2013. In nursery school I got a ribbon for “Best Fine Motor Skills.”
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 418 reviews
April 10, 2021
Eleanor Davis is a great and colorful illustrator, with plenty of passion and joie de vivre, but until now I didn’t think she had a real story to tell. She’s an artist! This is her most ambitious story, the first I have read from her in black and white, and really, like nothing else she has done that I have read. I think it is at base about The Times We are Living In, a time of fear and anxiety and turmoil, trying to find balance and hope in the midst of it all. My life! Yours?
It’s a time in the near future America in which a guy named Zuckerberg is President, when assaults on privacy and human rights and paranoia about surveillance are intensifying. Josh and Hannah are trying to live a principled and sane life in the midst of all the turmoil. She’s a hospice worker, an activist for Humans Against All Violence, and is maybe bisexual, but she wants Josh, a stoner, to build a house for her and their hoped-for family. This is the tension, the coming end times and the hope for a happy (or at least meaningful) future. Friends Gabby, a naturalist, and Tyler, a conspiracy theorist, complicate the story.
There’s an increasing sense of threat as the action intensifies, the tale gets faster and faster, coming to a head at a political rally that gets violent, but there’s a calm center that the story taps into, too. Davis is a great cartoonist, as it turns out, a very good storyteller, capturing a sense of empathy in the crazy, scary contemporary scene.
It’s a time in the near future America in which a guy named Zuckerberg is President, when assaults on privacy and human rights and paranoia about surveillance are intensifying. Josh and Hannah are trying to live a principled and sane life in the midst of all the turmoil. She’s a hospice worker, an activist for Humans Against All Violence, and is maybe bisexual, but she wants Josh, a stoner, to build a house for her and their hoped-for family. This is the tension, the coming end times and the hope for a happy (or at least meaningful) future. Friends Gabby, a naturalist, and Tyler, a conspiracy theorist, complicate the story.
There’s an increasing sense of threat as the action intensifies, the tale gets faster and faster, coming to a head at a political rally that gets violent, but there’s a calm center that the story taps into, too. Davis is a great cartoonist, as it turns out, a very good storyteller, capturing a sense of empathy in the crazy, scary contemporary scene.
October 23, 2019
This book is an emotional distillation of the hopes and fears of our current climate, authored by one of the major talents working in comics today. Set in a near future America in which Zuckerberg is President, human-rights violations have increased, and paranoia about surveillance is at an all time high, the lead characters are dreamers fighting for a better future. Hannah and Josh live on a small plot of land, hoping to build their own house, plant a garden, and start a family. Hannah is a hospice worker and an activist, part of a group called Humans Against All Violence, which is protesting the use of chemical weapons. Josh is a stoner who just can't quite get any of his optimistic, sustainable-living projects started. They've been trying to get pregnant for a while, a decision that Hannah's activist friend/crush Gabby doesn't understand. The story climaxes when a protest march is met with police violence, putting Hannah's friends in legal and physical danger. She and Josh each separately have an intense experience of the constant nearness of mortality. Davis' art is alive with details, both of the natural world and the expressive body language of the characters. No one draws like her, and it is a painful joy to live in her world for a little while.
November 4, 2019
A graphic novel that sits decidedly in the grey area between hope and fear. It's set in the near future in the US that horrifyingly doesn't seem that far fetched: Mark Zuckerberg is president and the US is slipping farther and farther into a fascist state. Hannah is an anti- violence and chemical weapons activist, she and her husband are trying to get pregnant, and she has a complicated friendship with queer friend Gabby. I had a hard time empathizing with the husband Johnny, as I know plenty of those lazy stoner leftist guys who leave all the work for their women partners, and I felt like just wacking him on the side of the head. But even he became more relatable to me as the story went on. Very thought provoking. The art is striking and beautiful at times, at others it has a weird unfinished feel, with people's limbs out of proportion with their body. But what the hell do I know about art?
November 7, 2019
Well, the main character, Hannah Plotnik, is just adorable as she flits through life with her curly hair, big doe eyes, a smidge of obliviousness, and relentless optimism. Set a year or two after the 2020 election of President Zuckerberg, Hannah is involved in protests in Louisville, Kentucky, against U.S. involvement in the use of sarin gas in the Gaza strip and an increasing police state on home front. But mostly she's trying to get pregnant while crushing on someone who is not her mate. She's fun to hang with and the book is pretty engaging, except for a fizzled side story about a survivalist and an ending that goes for beautiful imagery over tying up loose ends.
December 22, 2019
I read a review of this graphic novel in the local paper, since the author is local: a professor at the University of Georgia in Athens, Georgia. It's not my first graphic read; that was a few years ago, and I have several of them under my belt, most listed on my graphics shelf. I read the book because the review made me think it would be a good gift. My husband's niece has a brand new baby, and I liked the idea of babies as a sign of hope. The library had it; it was checked in, and it, too, feels brand new. But I can't give it to them. Not only the sex -- yes, graphic -- that gets the book off to its start, but that they might think I meant to comment on other aspects of their relationship. Well, I thought, I can give it to my daughter. But no. I'd in effect be giving it to my son-in-law, too, and, because of the sex, it would be an intrusion into their relationship. Also they'd have to hide it from their nearly two-year-old and four-year-old kids. This is not the first time I've found it's often best to have read the books I give as gifts.
My favorite part of the book is when the protagonist, who's been trying unsuccessfully so far to get pregnant, runs a stop sign. She's keeping her hands in plain sight, and the stocky policewoman who stops her asks if the protagonist really thinks she wants to ruin a perfectly good day by shooting someone. As the protagonist scowls, the policewoman congratulates her on exercising her right to remain silent and says sarcastically that "they'll be so impressed at the anarchist collective." I forgot to mention that the protagonist is part of a group who's protesting chemical weapons. Then the policewoman asks her what made her run the stop sign, and she admits she was daydreaming about having a baby. The policeman jokes that she has four cute children and will be willing to give her one in lieu of writing that ticket. The protagonist snorts in laughter, and the policewoman opines that since a cop made her laugh, "She's going to get kicked out of antifa." 😍 I love that.
There was one plot point I didn't get. I would have with words but not with pictures. My husband commented on it when he read it. I said, "Oh-h-h-h."
I have a little trouble with my emotional response, or, rather, lack of it, with some graphic novels. That was the case here. The art is evocative, but I'm so tuned in to words. I could feel it a little better when looking back through.
I could do with less of the reflexive anti-government stance (that Trump has so gleefully co-opted). Or maybe I'm being too serious and not engaging my sense of humor.
One other thing about graphic books: I can often read one in one day, something I can't do with regular books. One day, but still not in one sitting.
Thanks to my public library and its staff for having this book.
My local paper is pretty strict with its digital rights protection, but let's see if this link will let you read the review: https://epaper.ajc.com/popovers/dynam...
3 1/2 stars
My favorite part of the book is when the protagonist, who's been trying unsuccessfully so far to get pregnant, runs a stop sign. She's keeping her hands in plain sight, and the stocky policewoman who stops her asks if the protagonist really thinks she wants to ruin a perfectly good day by shooting someone. As the protagonist scowls, the policewoman congratulates her on exercising her right to remain silent and says sarcastically that "they'll be so impressed at the anarchist collective." I forgot to mention that the protagonist is part of a group who's protesting chemical weapons. Then the policewoman asks her what made her run the stop sign, and she admits she was daydreaming about having a baby. The policeman jokes that she has four cute children and will be willing to give her one in lieu of writing that ticket. The protagonist snorts in laughter, and the policewoman opines that since a cop made her laugh, "She's going to get kicked out of antifa." 😍 I love that.
There was one plot point I didn't get. I would have with words but not with pictures. My husband commented on it when he read it. I said, "Oh-h-h-h."
I have a little trouble with my emotional response, or, rather, lack of it, with some graphic novels. That was the case here. The art is evocative, but I'm so tuned in to words. I could feel it a little better when looking back through.
I could do with less of the reflexive anti-government stance (that Trump has so gleefully co-opted). Or maybe I'm being too serious and not engaging my sense of humor.
One other thing about graphic books: I can often read one in one day, something I can't do with regular books. One day, but still not in one sitting.
Thanks to my public library and its staff for having this book.
My local paper is pretty strict with its digital rights protection, but let's see if this link will let you read the review: https://epaper.ajc.com/popovers/dynam...
3 1/2 stars
November 29, 2019
after you, a bike, and a road, this was a letdown. davis sets up a great story, but then drops it for a baby.
January 3, 2020
I usually like Eleanor Davis' work quite a lot. It's often a bit surreal and filled with metaphors. The Hard Tomorrow, on the other hand, takes a rough turn into realism that didn't work for me. The story is supposed to be about hope. We follow a couple in the near future whose lives are a mess. Our female lead is an activist, and her male partner is a layabout stoner. There are terrible political things afoot, our couple lives in a car, their friends are sent to jail, and the stoner accidentally kills his friend. But then they get pregnant and that's hope, I suppose? I feel like Davis is trying to be very earnest with this story, but baby = hope and delight, particularly in light of the rest of the book, seems so facile and unearned. Our male lead LITERALLY kills his friend. But hey, baby! Forget about all the terrible stuff that just happened! I don't want to dismiss the idea that hope does require us to live for tomorrow. That for many people the whole point of hope is to create a world for their kids, but The Hard Tomorrow is too shallow to explore hope in any meaningful way. Definitely a miss for me. (Avoids 1 star because the art was great, but only barely.)
January 19, 2020
This book was a bummer, the kind that makes me feel like I'm out of step with the world. I hadn't read Eleanor Davis before, but we chose this for book club because she's so widely beloved, so I went into it with high hopes. But it just... never really went anywhere. In a lot of ways it felt like it really only had one scene with a lot of wallow-y lead-up, but even in that scene it was hard to know what was happening and why. The characters were fine but mostly kind of disappointing, there were these like big-deal turning points in relationships that were never quite explained, and there wasn't really much to grab on to. The art was beautiful and most people on this site seem to love it still, but for me (and for most of us at book club), it mostly just felt like a lot of engine-revving, like it never quite managed to take off.
Anyway here's our spread from club, with many cheeses, homemade salmon dip, and some absolutely to-die-for Smitten Kitchen peanut butter cookies that I baked my very own self.
Anyway here's our spread from club, with many cheeses, homemade salmon dip, and some absolutely to-die-for Smitten Kitchen peanut butter cookies that I baked my very own self.
October 15, 2024
before picking up this graphic novel, i had heard good things about it but didn't know what it was about. it's unexpectedly timely, a slice of a life that's different from mine, but about characters who are caught in a similar pull between hope and despair.
reading this makes me feel inspired to be more of an activist. the uncertainty, fear, the necessity of hope while watching the system collapse further each day, taking us with it.
the story grapples with the huge and very relevant question of bringing children into the world despite the threat of fascism, despite a probable impending climate apocalypse. but this question doesn't dominate the narrative. it's also about taking care of one another, getting older, yell-singing 90s bops with your best friend, foraging for mushrooms, finding joy in nature, all the camaraderie of survival. the dynamic art brings all this to life.
shelved as dystopia-utopia-apocalypse-future, though it really doesn't feel much like a near future narrative - it feels like now.
when it rains, it pours, and there is anguish in this book. i felt a physical flow of energy during the riot scene, when an army of cops descends on peaceful protesters. these pages are powerful. i love that toward the end there are multiple pages of sobbing, loud ugly crying, the abject grief of the way things are.
reading this makes me feel inspired to be more of an activist. the uncertainty, fear, the necessity of hope while watching the system collapse further each day, taking us with it.
the story grapples with the huge and very relevant question of bringing children into the world despite the threat of fascism, despite a probable impending climate apocalypse. but this question doesn't dominate the narrative. it's also about taking care of one another, getting older, yell-singing 90s bops with your best friend, foraging for mushrooms, finding joy in nature, all the camaraderie of survival. the dynamic art brings all this to life.
shelved as dystopia-utopia-apocalypse-future, though it really doesn't feel much like a near future narrative - it feels like now.
when it rains, it pours, and there is anguish in this book. i felt a physical flow of energy during the riot scene, when an army of cops descends on peaceful protesters. these pages are powerful. i love that toward the end there are multiple pages of sobbing, loud ugly crying, the abject grief of the way things are.
September 3, 2021
En un mundo al borde del colapso, una joven trata de aportar su grano de arena para que las cosas funcionen: se involucra en asociaciones, acude a protestas y se vuelca en la acción social, pero su propia vida sigue siendo tremendamente precaria y, después de mucho tiempo, sigue sin poder quedarse embarazada y sigue viviendo con su novio en una furgoneta. EL DIFÍCIL MAÑANA transcurre en un futuro proximísimo y su mayor fortaleza es presentar un mundo terrorífico que no resulta nada ajeno y que podría estar a la vuelta de la esquina.
Me interesa mucho el planteamiento y la ambientación que consigue crear, pero considero que se queda a medias. Esboza un montón de cosas interesantes -el pirado conspiranoico, la misteriosa relación con la amiga, la represión gubernamental…- pero no profundiza en ninguna y, bajo mi humilde punto de vista, te deja a medias como lector. Este libro me sirve de estupendo capítulo introductorio para un cómic largo, pero cuando empiezas a meterte en faena se corta bruscamente dejando en simples bosquejos un montón de historias que podrían haber sido interesantes. Me ha hecho pensar en MUJER SALVAJE (Tirabosco: Nuevo nueve, 2020) y en SABRINA (Drnaso: Salamandra graphic, 2019), ambos, pienso, en una línea con ciertas similitudes pero bastante mejor cerrados.
Me interesa mucho el planteamiento y la ambientación que consigue crear, pero considero que se queda a medias. Esboza un montón de cosas interesantes -el pirado conspiranoico, la misteriosa relación con la amiga, la represión gubernamental…- pero no profundiza en ninguna y, bajo mi humilde punto de vista, te deja a medias como lector. Este libro me sirve de estupendo capítulo introductorio para un cómic largo, pero cuando empiezas a meterte en faena se corta bruscamente dejando en simples bosquejos un montón de historias que podrían haber sido interesantes. Me ha hecho pensar en MUJER SALVAJE (Tirabosco: Nuevo nueve, 2020) y en SABRINA (Drnaso: Salamandra graphic, 2019), ambos, pienso, en una línea con ciertas similitudes pero bastante mejor cerrados.
June 2, 2021
Il futuro non promette bene di Eleanor Davis per me è stato un grande no.
La protagonista, Hannah, fa la badante ed è un’attivista, spera in un mondo migliore, è contro la guerra e l’uso di sostanze tossiche. Spera nel futuro: una casa per lei e il compagno, un bambino.
Cosa non mi ha convinta?
Tante cose scritte nella sinossi in realtà nel fumetto vengono solo abbozzate e in tutta onestà se non erano specificate nella trama io non le avrei nemmeno colte tanto sono buttate lì, poco approfondite.
Non ho ben capito nemmeno alcuni rapporti tra i personaggi. C’è una scena cringe tra Hannah e il compagno. Si sono picchiati? Sembra proprio di sì, ma nel giro di due scene è tutto ok, come se nulla fosse successo.
Non so nemmeno perché i due stiano assieme. Sembra per abitudine più che amore. O almeno io l’amore proprio non l’ho percepito. Anzi, a un certo punto pensavo che Hannah fosse attratta dall’amica attivista queer.
Poi il compagno uccide accidentalmente un amico (che sembra uno di quelli che credono nei complotti, e non è chiaro se è solo così o se ci sia davvero qualcosa più grande di loro in atto). E cosa vuoi che sia? Vivo la mia vita come prima.
WTF
Ma la cosa che mi fa dire “no” è il messaggio dell’autrice, se così lo vogliamo definire.
Il mondo sta andando a puttane, ma arriva inaspettatamente un bambino e ehi, è tutto ok, va tutto benissimo, c’è speranza. E concludiamo così la storia. Tronchiamola proprio dove dove iniziare.
Mah.
La protagonista, Hannah, fa la badante ed è un’attivista, spera in un mondo migliore, è contro la guerra e l’uso di sostanze tossiche. Spera nel futuro: una casa per lei e il compagno, un bambino.
Cosa non mi ha convinta?
Tante cose scritte nella sinossi in realtà nel fumetto vengono solo abbozzate e in tutta onestà se non erano specificate nella trama io non le avrei nemmeno colte tanto sono buttate lì, poco approfondite.
Non ho ben capito nemmeno alcuni rapporti tra i personaggi. C’è una scena cringe tra Hannah e il compagno. Si sono picchiati? Sembra proprio di sì, ma nel giro di due scene è tutto ok, come se nulla fosse successo.
Non so nemmeno perché i due stiano assieme. Sembra per abitudine più che amore. O almeno io l’amore proprio non l’ho percepito. Anzi, a un certo punto pensavo che Hannah fosse attratta dall’amica attivista queer.
Poi il compagno uccide accidentalmente un amico (che sembra uno di quelli che credono nei complotti, e non è chiaro se è solo così o se ci sia davvero qualcosa più grande di loro in atto). E cosa vuoi che sia? Vivo la mia vita come prima.
WTF
Ma la cosa che mi fa dire “no” è il messaggio dell’autrice, se così lo vogliamo definire.
Il mondo sta andando a puttane, ma arriva inaspettatamente un bambino e ehi, è tutto ok, va tutto benissimo, c’è speranza. E concludiamo così la storia. Tronchiamola proprio dove dove iniziare.
Mah.
January 14, 2020
Vision of a Near Future Dystopia with Glimpses of Hope
Review of the Drawn & Quarterly hardcover (Oct. 2019)
Rounded down from 3.5
There are a lot of contradictory elements in this graphic novel which alternates between episodes of a possible near future dystopia in the United States (with a President that will surprise you) and scenes of determined resistance and hope for the future. All of this is laid out very well but at the point where the book is heading to a climax it actually seems to abandon all of the earlier threads of the plot and instead to wrap things up. You are left to basically imagine your own ending. Your satisfaction will depend on how you react to that conclusion.
Review of the Drawn & Quarterly hardcover (Oct. 2019)
Rounded down from 3.5
There are a lot of contradictory elements in this graphic novel which alternates between episodes of a possible near future dystopia in the United States (with a President that will surprise you) and scenes of determined resistance and hope for the future. All of this is laid out very well but at the point where the book is heading to a climax it actually seems to abandon all of the earlier threads of the plot and instead to wrap things up. You are left to basically imagine your own ending. Your satisfaction will depend on how you react to that conclusion.
August 4, 2022
If you love getting angry at fictional scenarios, this book is for you. Otherwise, stay away.
WARNINGS: sex scenes, nudity, violence, death, intense desire to join the CIA.
STYLING: ⭐⭐
ORIGINALITY: ⭐⭐
CHARACTER DEV.: ⭐
PLOT DEV.: ⭐
IMPORTANCE: ⭐
WARNINGS: sex scenes, nudity, violence, death, intense desire to join the CIA.
STYLING: ⭐⭐
ORIGINALITY: ⭐⭐
CHARACTER DEV.: ⭐
PLOT DEV.: ⭐
IMPORTANCE: ⭐
November 1, 2019
Well, comics don’t get much better than this!
November 13, 2019
Jesus Christ Eleanor 😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻😻
February 16, 2021
Content notes for shirtlessness of all genders, nudity, some discrete sex otherwise, police road stop, police violence, elder death, discouraging violence against inanimate objects, violence against women, Israeli Palestinian conflict, protesting the use of sarin gas, trouble conceiving and having a baby, dismissive partner, and paranoid prepper/men's rights dude.
This pretty hyped book was originally published in 2019 by Drawn and Quarterly.
This is my first Eleanor Davis read, but according to her website bio "[She's] a cartoonist and illustrator. [Her] books include How to be Happy, You and a bike and a road, why art? and The secret Science Alliance and the copycat crook... [She] lived in Athens, Georgia (pre-covid) and Tucson, Arizona (mid-covid)."
And while the content notes do read like a keyword list as well, here's a couple more keywords that could apply: body hair, van life, gardening, and DIY homestead.
The goodreads description of the book is as follows: " The gorgeous and empathetic story of one couple’s search for hope and a peaceful future
Hannah is a thirty-something wife, home-health worker, and antiwar activist. Her husband, Johnny, is a stay-at-home pothead working—or "working"—on building them a house before the winter chill sets in. They're currently living and screwing in the back of a truck, hoping for a pregnancy, which seems like it will never come. Legs in the air, for a better chance at conception, Hannah scans fertility Reddits while Johnny dreams about propagating plants—kale, tomatoes—to ensure they have sufficient sustenance should the end times come, which, given their fragile democracy strained under the weight of a carceral state and the risk of horrible war, doesn’t seem so far off. Helping Hannah in her fight for the future is her best friend Gabby, a queer naturalist she idolizes and who adores her. Helping Johnny build the house is Tyler, an off-the-grid conspiracy theorist driven sick by his own cloudy notions of reality.
Told with tenderness and care in an undefined near future, Eleanor Davis's The Hard Tomorrow blazes unrestrained, as moments of human connection are doused in fear and threats. Her astute projections probe at current anxieties in a cautionary tale that begs the question: What will happen after tomorrow?"
Paranoia as well as hope vs hopelessness were both themes that felt intrinsic to understanding this book. Also growing up."
It was very impressive how much Davis was able to communicate via her not overly complicated art style. Simple does not seem totally the right word here, as sometimes there are many elements at play on the page, but it does feel like Davis is parring things down to focus on only the most important characteristics. Everything shown on the page, words or otherwise, is serving a specific purpose to advance the story.
Taking my list of intersections a bit out of order, I didn't initially realize how important Jewishness was to this book and even just doing my minimal research into what other people have to say about the book was very enlightening. Basically I noted that Johnny mentions once that Hannah is Jewish, wondered if Eleanor Davis is Jewish, did a search on duckduckgo and came across an article on the apparently recently launched Solrad (an online literary magazine for comics) entitled "The Judaism of Eleanor Davis’ The Hard Tomorrow". Link in the description to the article itself. To summarize, Daniel Elkin effortlessly broke down the ways that Judaism impacted The Hard Tomorrow. This explained some references that went straight over my head and did add some depth that I felt was lacking initially. Something like this would likely may a good introduction to the comic if it ever gets another edition, because I could see how it would be less then helpful to spoon feed some of these references to people but otherwise it did come across as a bit shallow at times.
Digging into that a bit further aside from representation, it did feel like many of the characters in the story, at most, fulfill archetypes. More then once I thought to myself "of course they did that" because, well, that is what those kinds of people do. Of course if you don't know enough activists maybe you, similarly to my experience with the Jewish references, would not get these references. Which is a bit of a shortcoming I think. Is it wrong to want people to explain their motivations a bit more? There's not really any character development, it sometimes just feels like a series of events.
Gender representation was interesting. I so rarely find body hair rep, so that was super awesome. The way that Davis draws naked bodies in a casual way, well I think is was awesome. Haven't talked about that in a while. Of the characters who could be labeled as main or main adjacent, we do have men and women, but apparently nothing outside the binary? I'm not sure how I felt about the depiction of men, besides characters we only see in passing, Hannah is annoyed with her husband for most of the story and his friend is an asshole.
Which is a great transition to sexuality representation. This book is primarily about a man and a woman who are apparently married and trying to have a baby. Besides that, Hannah, the woman in this straight passing relationship, is also in a very close friendship with a queer woman named Gabby. And I have complicated feelings. On the one hand, it is nice to show how even if someone is in a straight passing relationship this does not mean someone is just straight and not queer. That said, what we got was Johnny being jealous and Hannah idolizing Gabby in a way that just left me feeling anxious. Because most of my anxieties revolve around relationships and communication and Hannah just seemed to be acting in a way that left Gabby kind of uncomfortable and not good. The relationship also ends abruptly in a way that sort of makes sense but, again, I would like there to have been more of an explanation for. I was mostly left wondering why Johnny and Hannah were together. Especially after their simultaneous freak outs that involved him hitting her?
That said, I did understand why Hannah and Johnny were trying to have a baby. That's because Eleanor Davis sees herself as focusing on the dichotomy between hopefulness and hopelessness. Procreating is a bit of a hot button topic among people who do leftist activism. Personally, I feel like both sides have a point and its kind of up to people what direction they want to go in. In her book, Davis does come down pretty hard on the side of: the world is terrible but we are trying to build a better one for our children, and having children is part of that. Which is something Hannah does basically say in the book itself.
Davis also communicates feelings about peaceful protest (do not even knock over newspaper boxes) and guns are only for right wing libertarian types. And while I can understand these opinions, if I was writing a fictional book that centered around protesting, I would have preferred there be more diversity of ideas presented. Not to say that Davis should not have expressed her opinion through a book that she wrote, but make an argument for them, don't just erase everyone who disagrees with you. She does do this when it comes to Johnny's friend Tyler, who Davis fairly clearly disagrees with, but is allowed to say things.
Probably the most universally agreed upon opinion expressed in this book, Davis' depiction of police officers was fairly well done and offered some nuance that didn't compromise.
My thoughts about class changed the most through my reading of this book. Mostly because my impression of the van life is it does take a certain amount of privilege. Not to say that impoverished people do not live in their cars, but I think it has to do with the aesthetic. I wondered, are these trust fund babies? And while this is not definitively addressed in the book, because no ones backgrounds are really explored, I did appreciate the panic that Hannah went in at the end when she loses her job. Very relatable. But yeah, wouldn't it be more expensive to build your own house? I don't know. That part just magically resolves itself between the main end and the flash to the future.
Disability is largely ignored in this book. Which is a bit odd at times, because Hannah is both a personal support worker of some kind for an elderly woman and is having trouble conceiving. Also, plenty of activists are not perfectly able bodied. Particularly with the infertility plot line, it just sort of magically resolves, and the elderly woman dies. Which really perpetuates the ablest idea that people are born, they are generally able bodied and then they get old, things maybe start breaking down, and then they die. It's not unusually bad, but also not great either. Although bad guy Tyler does wear glasses and have to keep applying a substance to his eye throughout his time in the comic. Kind of adjacent to ugly = bad maybe?
That said, before I conclude entirely I also wanted to talk about the theme of paranoia that was also pretty prominent throughout the book. On the one hand we have Hannah and her community being paranoid about the government cracking down on them, which does happen; on the other side we have Johnny's friend Tyler, whose paranoia has driven him into almost total isolation and whose fears appear to be shown to be false when Johnny accidentally kills him. Because that happened, with no resolution. A little bit black and white, but not something I see explored very often, so interesting.
Yeah, the ending kind of works aesthetically, but not really in any sort of thought out way. Unless the logic is literally, give up protesting and your life will magically resolve into hippie heterosexual bliss. They say that the simplest solution is generally correct, but that is a bad conclusion in my humble opinion.
Overall, while I might have flirted a couple of times with giving this book four stars, after thinking so much about all the ways I don't think it works I feel like three stars is probably as high as it should go. But let's go with two stars "it's ok". Your millage will mostly vary depending on how much you agree or disagree with Davis' political opinions. It is a different kind of story and setting then I was expecting, or generally see presented in fairly hyped indie comic books. But it does come across as very shallow. I think the strongest points of the book are the art and the things unique to this being a comic. Otherwise, minimalism worked much better in the art and much worse on the plot side of things.
This pretty hyped book was originally published in 2019 by Drawn and Quarterly.
This is my first Eleanor Davis read, but according to her website bio "[She's] a cartoonist and illustrator. [Her] books include How to be Happy, You and a bike and a road, why art? and The secret Science Alliance and the copycat crook... [She] lived in Athens, Georgia (pre-covid) and Tucson, Arizona (mid-covid)."
And while the content notes do read like a keyword list as well, here's a couple more keywords that could apply: body hair, van life, gardening, and DIY homestead.
The goodreads description of the book is as follows: " The gorgeous and empathetic story of one couple’s search for hope and a peaceful future
Hannah is a thirty-something wife, home-health worker, and antiwar activist. Her husband, Johnny, is a stay-at-home pothead working—or "working"—on building them a house before the winter chill sets in. They're currently living and screwing in the back of a truck, hoping for a pregnancy, which seems like it will never come. Legs in the air, for a better chance at conception, Hannah scans fertility Reddits while Johnny dreams about propagating plants—kale, tomatoes—to ensure they have sufficient sustenance should the end times come, which, given their fragile democracy strained under the weight of a carceral state and the risk of horrible war, doesn’t seem so far off. Helping Hannah in her fight for the future is her best friend Gabby, a queer naturalist she idolizes and who adores her. Helping Johnny build the house is Tyler, an off-the-grid conspiracy theorist driven sick by his own cloudy notions of reality.
Told with tenderness and care in an undefined near future, Eleanor Davis's The Hard Tomorrow blazes unrestrained, as moments of human connection are doused in fear and threats. Her astute projections probe at current anxieties in a cautionary tale that begs the question: What will happen after tomorrow?"
Paranoia as well as hope vs hopelessness were both themes that felt intrinsic to understanding this book. Also growing up."
It was very impressive how much Davis was able to communicate via her not overly complicated art style. Simple does not seem totally the right word here, as sometimes there are many elements at play on the page, but it does feel like Davis is parring things down to focus on only the most important characteristics. Everything shown on the page, words or otherwise, is serving a specific purpose to advance the story.
Taking my list of intersections a bit out of order, I didn't initially realize how important Jewishness was to this book and even just doing my minimal research into what other people have to say about the book was very enlightening. Basically I noted that Johnny mentions once that Hannah is Jewish, wondered if Eleanor Davis is Jewish, did a search on duckduckgo and came across an article on the apparently recently launched Solrad (an online literary magazine for comics) entitled "The Judaism of Eleanor Davis’ The Hard Tomorrow". Link in the description to the article itself. To summarize, Daniel Elkin effortlessly broke down the ways that Judaism impacted The Hard Tomorrow. This explained some references that went straight over my head and did add some depth that I felt was lacking initially. Something like this would likely may a good introduction to the comic if it ever gets another edition, because I could see how it would be less then helpful to spoon feed some of these references to people but otherwise it did come across as a bit shallow at times.
Digging into that a bit further aside from representation, it did feel like many of the characters in the story, at most, fulfill archetypes. More then once I thought to myself "of course they did that" because, well, that is what those kinds of people do. Of course if you don't know enough activists maybe you, similarly to my experience with the Jewish references, would not get these references. Which is a bit of a shortcoming I think. Is it wrong to want people to explain their motivations a bit more? There's not really any character development, it sometimes just feels like a series of events.
Gender representation was interesting. I so rarely find body hair rep, so that was super awesome. The way that Davis draws naked bodies in a casual way, well I think is was awesome. Haven't talked about that in a while. Of the characters who could be labeled as main or main adjacent, we do have men and women, but apparently nothing outside the binary? I'm not sure how I felt about the depiction of men, besides characters we only see in passing, Hannah is annoyed with her husband for most of the story and his friend is an asshole.
Which is a great transition to sexuality representation. This book is primarily about a man and a woman who are apparently married and trying to have a baby. Besides that, Hannah, the woman in this straight passing relationship, is also in a very close friendship with a queer woman named Gabby. And I have complicated feelings. On the one hand, it is nice to show how even if someone is in a straight passing relationship this does not mean someone is just straight and not queer. That said, what we got was Johnny being jealous and Hannah idolizing Gabby in a way that just left me feeling anxious. Because most of my anxieties revolve around relationships and communication and Hannah just seemed to be acting in a way that left Gabby kind of uncomfortable and not good. The relationship also ends abruptly in a way that sort of makes sense but, again, I would like there to have been more of an explanation for. I was mostly left wondering why Johnny and Hannah were together. Especially after their simultaneous freak outs that involved him hitting her?
That said, I did understand why Hannah and Johnny were trying to have a baby. That's because Eleanor Davis sees herself as focusing on the dichotomy between hopefulness and hopelessness. Procreating is a bit of a hot button topic among people who do leftist activism. Personally, I feel like both sides have a point and its kind of up to people what direction they want to go in. In her book, Davis does come down pretty hard on the side of: the world is terrible but we are trying to build a better one for our children, and having children is part of that. Which is something Hannah does basically say in the book itself.
Davis also communicates feelings about peaceful protest (do not even knock over newspaper boxes) and guns are only for right wing libertarian types. And while I can understand these opinions, if I was writing a fictional book that centered around protesting, I would have preferred there be more diversity of ideas presented. Not to say that Davis should not have expressed her opinion through a book that she wrote, but make an argument for them, don't just erase everyone who disagrees with you. She does do this when it comes to Johnny's friend Tyler, who Davis fairly clearly disagrees with, but is allowed to say things.
Probably the most universally agreed upon opinion expressed in this book, Davis' depiction of police officers was fairly well done and offered some nuance that didn't compromise.
My thoughts about class changed the most through my reading of this book. Mostly because my impression of the van life is it does take a certain amount of privilege. Not to say that impoverished people do not live in their cars, but I think it has to do with the aesthetic. I wondered, are these trust fund babies? And while this is not definitively addressed in the book, because no ones backgrounds are really explored, I did appreciate the panic that Hannah went in at the end when she loses her job. Very relatable. But yeah, wouldn't it be more expensive to build your own house? I don't know. That part just magically resolves itself between the main end and the flash to the future.
Disability is largely ignored in this book. Which is a bit odd at times, because Hannah is both a personal support worker of some kind for an elderly woman and is having trouble conceiving. Also, plenty of activists are not perfectly able bodied. Particularly with the infertility plot line, it just sort of magically resolves, and the elderly woman dies. Which really perpetuates the ablest idea that people are born, they are generally able bodied and then they get old, things maybe start breaking down, and then they die. It's not unusually bad, but also not great either. Although bad guy Tyler does wear glasses and have to keep applying a substance to his eye throughout his time in the comic. Kind of adjacent to ugly = bad maybe?
That said, before I conclude entirely I also wanted to talk about the theme of paranoia that was also pretty prominent throughout the book. On the one hand we have Hannah and her community being paranoid about the government cracking down on them, which does happen; on the other side we have Johnny's friend Tyler, whose paranoia has driven him into almost total isolation and whose fears appear to be shown to be false when Johnny accidentally kills him. Because that happened, with no resolution. A little bit black and white, but not something I see explored very often, so interesting.
Yeah, the ending kind of works aesthetically, but not really in any sort of thought out way. Unless the logic is literally, give up protesting and your life will magically resolve into hippie heterosexual bliss. They say that the simplest solution is generally correct, but that is a bad conclusion in my humble opinion.
Overall, while I might have flirted a couple of times with giving this book four stars, after thinking so much about all the ways I don't think it works I feel like three stars is probably as high as it should go. But let's go with two stars "it's ok". Your millage will mostly vary depending on how much you agree or disagree with Davis' political opinions. It is a different kind of story and setting then I was expecting, or generally see presented in fairly hyped indie comic books. But it does come across as very shallow. I think the strongest points of the book are the art and the things unique to this being a comic. Otherwise, minimalism worked much better in the art and much worse on the plot side of things.
January 15, 2020
I wanted to read this book because of the praise it received online. At first, I was pleasantly surprised. I do love Eleanor Davies' style. The characters and the world they are living in are well thought out, the illustrations are beautifully done in a black and white style. The dialogues are compelling. However, as some of the other reviewers here, I felt a bit let down by the 'abrupt' end of the story. For me it felt like the story was only halfway through...
March 8, 2020
Uhhhhhh...kay?
I guess maybe I don't quite get what the point of this one was. Everything sucks and then you have a baby and magically everything is better? I'm here to tell you that no. Sorry new baby in my house, but everything is magically a whole lot more money and work and a whole lot less sleep. And I love you, but you have definitely not fixed my life or whatever. Maybe that's not the point of this book, but if there's another point, I have no idea what it is.
But the art is nice?
I guess maybe I don't quite get what the point of this one was. Everything sucks and then you have a baby and magically everything is better? I'm here to tell you that no. Sorry new baby in my house, but everything is magically a whole lot more money and work and a whole lot less sleep. And I love you, but you have definitely not fixed my life or whatever. Maybe that's not the point of this book, but if there's another point, I have no idea what it is.
But the art is nice?
February 28, 2022
A very contemporary (slightly futuristic) tale that I read in about 30 minutes. Graphic novels take up so much space on the page, but never seem to go anywhere. The ending, such as it is, offers an admixture of hope and desperation.
To be honest, dystopian storylines, at this point in history, make me really uncomfortable. But the value of art is not only to “comfort” or "entertain"— but to enlighten, to warn, to reflect, to stir. This book does all of those things.
To be honest, dystopian storylines, at this point in history, make me really uncomfortable. But the value of art is not only to “comfort” or "entertain"— but to enlighten, to warn, to reflect, to stir. This book does all of those things.
January 15, 2020
Super compelling, disturbing, and all-too-plausible vision of the near future. The story is wonderfully rendered, and I'm still thinking about the ending which initially struck me as too sudden though now I'm not so sure. Recommended for those struggling with what 'hope' and 'resistance' might look like in the coming years.
November 6, 2020
C'est le titre qui m'a poussée à emprunter cet album à la médiathèque mais j'avoue qu'au final, j'ai été plutôt déçue. Tout d'abord, je n'ai pas trop accroché au graphisme noir et blanc, aux traits fins mais aux perspectives que je trouvais parfois un peu bizarres. En plus, les personnages ne sont pas très agréables à regarder mais bon, j'aurais largement pu oublier ces choses si l'histoire m'avait emportée ! Hélas, je n'ai jamais tissé de liens avec l'héroïne principale qui est vraiment très très loin de moi : elle vit dans une voiture en attendant que son compagnon construise leur maison (alors qu'il pense à plein d'autres choses ... je n'ai jamais été attirée par ce genre de gars !), elle rêve d'un bébé (pas mon cas) et milite contre les armes chimiques et plus généralement vers un monde plus propre (la seule chose qui me tenterait effectivement est un monde plus propre et plus beau mais je suis trop cynique pour penser qu'on y arrivera). Du coup, quand on n'a pas d'atomes crochus avec le personnage principal, difficile de se passionner pour ses aventures, qui se révèlent quand même assez limitées et ressemblent plus à la description de quelques mois passés à ses côtés. Une lecture qui ne m'a donc rien apporté et qui a peiné à m'intéresser !
January 22, 2020
Set in a world alternate yet fundamentally similar to the one we currently live in, Mark Zuckerberg is president of the United States and Facebook. He's using chemical weapons on the people living in the Gaza strip. Clearly, this is a shift in what the higher levels of power look like in the U.S., yet in day-to-day life it's hard to see exactly how institutional power affects the day-to-day life of a citizen.
Davis acclimates us to this new world first on the personal level of our two main characters, Hannah and Johnny. At first, we don't know how largely the higher levels of power in the U.S. have shifted. We simply observe Hannah and Johnny performing their routines and plans for the future. We're introduced through Hannah's H.A.A.V (Humans Against All Violence) meetings and protest work.
Hannah and Johnny live on their own piece of land with an outdoor shower, a truck with their bedroom inside it, and an outdoor kitchen trailer. They have plans to get pregnant and build their own house and self-sustaining garden before their baby comes.
In a world where capitalism has progressed to a C.E.O also simultaneously being in the highest electoral office, Hannah and Johnny stay hopeful and ambitiously dream for better. Their best friends are both more pessimistic, cynical, and guarded. In a world similar to our own yet more dangerous, how should one approach the world? Our main characters are put through challenging events, and their stance towards their world will either put them in danger or help them keep living through "the hard tomorrow." Every meaningful aspect of Hannah's life implodes at once--protest group, best friend, job, romantic relationship partner--and we're forced to watch.
Davis' beautiful work will pull you through the most emotionally affecting parts of this graphic novel. Her illustrations are only in black and white, but her liberal use of white spaces between the black colored in drawings keeps things light. She zooms in during emotional highs and crucial events for detailed side profiles and portraits of faces. These images are either silent or punctuated by an important phrase.
I read through this again immediately after finishing. I was rewarded with clear foreshadowing that I didn't notice before, and more powerful glances at her money panels (the detailed face close ups) in context. Social realism, beautiful black and white shading, and mild dystopic elements combine into a memorable vision of a possible U.S. future.
Davis acclimates us to this new world first on the personal level of our two main characters, Hannah and Johnny. At first, we don't know how largely the higher levels of power in the U.S. have shifted. We simply observe Hannah and Johnny performing their routines and plans for the future. We're introduced through Hannah's H.A.A.V (Humans Against All Violence) meetings and protest work.
Hannah and Johnny live on their own piece of land with an outdoor shower, a truck with their bedroom inside it, and an outdoor kitchen trailer. They have plans to get pregnant and build their own house and self-sustaining garden before their baby comes.
In a world where capitalism has progressed to a C.E.O also simultaneously being in the highest electoral office, Hannah and Johnny stay hopeful and ambitiously dream for better. Their best friends are both more pessimistic, cynical, and guarded. In a world similar to our own yet more dangerous, how should one approach the world? Our main characters are put through challenging events, and their stance towards their world will either put them in danger or help them keep living through "the hard tomorrow." Every meaningful aspect of Hannah's life implodes at once--protest group, best friend, job, romantic relationship partner--and we're forced to watch.
Davis' beautiful work will pull you through the most emotionally affecting parts of this graphic novel. Her illustrations are only in black and white, but her liberal use of white spaces between the black colored in drawings keeps things light. She zooms in during emotional highs and crucial events for detailed side profiles and portraits of faces. These images are either silent or punctuated by an important phrase.
I read through this again immediately after finishing. I was rewarded with clear foreshadowing that I didn't notice before, and more powerful glances at her money panels (the detailed face close ups) in context. Social realism, beautiful black and white shading, and mild dystopic elements combine into a memorable vision of a possible U.S. future.
December 1, 2019
Any lefty who has ever had to make the transition from being a young idealist to being an older activist will find much to relate to in Eleanor Davis’s most recent book. It’s a time in life when it can be tempting to give in to cynicism, “pragmatism,” and the lulling rhythms of everyday life. Davis conveys well the challenges of remaining committed to one’s ideals as life chugs on.
While the two big climactic events are overly contrived, they condense years’ worth of the kinds of things that might happen to challenge our political idealism as we mature. The title sums up the book’s sentiment well: holding onto a vision of a better future gets harder and harder with each passing year.
While the two big climactic events are overly contrived, they condense years’ worth of the kinds of things that might happen to challenge our political idealism as we mature. The title sums up the book’s sentiment well: holding onto a vision of a better future gets harder and harder with each passing year.
January 11, 2020
this graphic novel is really compelling but i'm having trouble putting into words how i feel about it - it's definitely a product of the times we live in, the anxiety and loss and fear as well, the reality of living in a developing fascist police state only taken a few steps further, friendship and aging and family, making a life for oneself amidst chaos... i felt a bit desolate while reading this to be honest, and sad for so many of the characters and their circumstances, but it also ends on a note of hope, which is so lovely and something that is needed in such dark times. what wonderful, spirited illustration and fascinating stories.
October 15, 2019
This is the best work Eleanor Davis has produced to date. The Hard Tomorrow is a beautiful, gut wrenching story about hope, the end, and the future. Davis is the best artist in the game. The way she can simplify, exaggerate, and detail the human body is incredible. There's so much life and movement in every panel, and the emotional impact in some of these pages left me breathless. The Hard Tomorrow is my favorite graphic novel of 2019, maybe ever.
November 11, 2019
There are some good ideas here, explorations of where we might be in a few years that are certainly within reason. The concept is a good one, and the illustrations are effective. The story of The Hard Tomorrow unravels with the slightest pressure. There are many things I liked about it—it is both tender and biting—but there just aren't enough threads to pull everything together into a cohesive piece of storytelling.
January 9, 2020
A story of the leftist protest struggle in an unjust world and what can still give us hope.
Davis does a great job telling an engaging story with simple illustrations and great characters.
Davis does a great job telling an engaging story with simple illustrations and great characters.
January 10, 2020
This is so beautiful and real. Life is complicated and messy, and so is this. Love.
November 10, 2019
4.5 stars - Eleanor Davis has a range of drawing styles that she presents in her different volumes of work, in part because one recent book was based on a sketchbook she maintained over a long-distance bike trip. No matter the style, there is a central heart that runs through her work. In The Hard Tomorrow, we experience love, life, death, and heartbreak in a near-future alternative timeline where the hardline government is headed by President Zuckerberg. Davis creates some powerful action set pieces and some equally powerful quiet moments, especially in the closing pages. It's complicated. It's hard. It's beautiful.
November 21, 2019
3. 5 stars. Another excellent comic by Davis. I think this is the first full-fledged graphic novel of hers that I've read. Set in a very near future where Mark Zuckerberg is president and the United States is teetering on the edge of social, political and environmental collapse, this book hit a little too close to home at times. It captures the anxieties of the current moment painfully well. However, I found the ending a little too pat and not particularly compelling. And Davis really needs to do more research before including mushrooms in her stories-- verpas & chanterelles do not grow right next to each other the same time of year!
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