Essay about Junji Ito’s Manga “Town of No Roads” on Shelfdust

I recently had an opportunity to write a short essay for the comics website Shelfdust about Junji Ito’s short story “Town of No Roads” (道のない街), a stand-alone manga from 1992 included in the 2002 collection Alley (路地裏), which was published in English translation by Viz Media in 2024.

“Town of No Roads” is an oddly structured story that begins with a teenage girl’s experience of having her privacy violated. After she decides to leave home, the manga follows her journey into a weird labyrinthine suburb that’s been rebuilt into one giant wooden house. I’ve always been intrigued by the imagery of “Town of No Roads,” and I thought it might be fun to explore its take on the theme of postwar nostalgia as expressed through its uncanny architecture.

Part of my conclusion is a paragraph that goes…

The pleasure of a labyrinth is that you can enjoy the sensation of getting lost while always knowing that you can simply leave. Perhaps the same can be said of nostalgia as well, and so much the better. The reactionary mode of thought that insists society used to be better when protections for individual rights and dignity were more limited has unpleasant implications, after all. Perhaps it’s best not to linger in this space for too long.

This conclusion makes sense in relation to the story, but what I also mean is that a mode of thought that holds that “things were better before Second Wave Feminism” (which definitely existed in Japan) steps into the territory of horror. I don’t say that part out loud in my essay, but a careful reader will probably understand what’s going on. In all fairness, I’m not entirely sure that Junji Ito intended for a political message to be read into this manga; but, if nothing else, it feels validating to know that he finds certain aspects of the postwar period as creepy as I do.

You can read the full essay on Shelfdust here:
https://shelfdust.com/2026/10/28/how-to-escape-junji-itos-town-of-no-roads/

Review of Stagtown on Comics Beat

I was excited to have an opportunity to write a review for Comics Beat of the new graphic novel Stagtown, which collects the opening act of Punko’s popular horror webcomic.

I’ve been a fan of Punko’s work since her debut manga-style graphic novel Bizenghast, which takes place in an isolated small town perched above a giant crypt. Stagtown is a return to a similar setting, but it’s a much more nuanced and mature piece of storytelling graced with remarkably confident and atmospheric art.

Just as I’m comparing Stagtown to Bizenghast here, I make a number of connections in my review of the graphic novel, including comparisons to The X Files, The Magnus Archives, and Stephen King – who coined the phrase “peculiar little town” that I use in the review title. I’ve pointed out these connections not because Stagtown is derivative. In fact, Punko’s art and writing are quite distinctive, as is her particular take on small town horror. Rather, I make these comparisons to emphasize how deeply Stagtown is connected to some of the primary roots of contemporary American Gothic. As I write toward the end of my review:

Underneath its elements of supernatural horror, Stagtown is a story about young adults who are stuck in place. The characters feel fresh and contemporary, but the setting is haunted by the analog horror sense of being cut off from the broader culture and society. Frankie and Felix are doing their best to overcome a less-than-ideal situation, but their efforts have depressingly few tangible results. Stagtown is small-town gothic horror that would make Stephen King proud, but it’s also a cautionary tale about economic recession, suburban stagnation, and a younger generation trying to survive in a world that has no place for their dreams or energy.

You can read the full review on Comics Beat here:
https://www.comicsbeat.com/graphic-novel-review-stagtown/

Review of Strange Cases on Comics Beat

I recently had the honor of writing a review of Strange Cases, the debut graphic novel of the popular illustrator Riotbones. Strange Cases is a historical drama about a law student who investigates supernatural mysteries in a colonial city that’s sinking under the weight of its own Gothic architecture. When I shared a link to the review on social media, I described the story as a cross between Ace Attorney and Bloodborne, but it’s much more than a simple comparison can convey. The writing is just as gorgeous as the art, and Riotbones addresses the uneasy legacy of colonial rule with a subtlety that sharpens the edge of the story’s brilliance.

I didn’t mention this in my review, but Strange Cases is also queer in a way appropriate to the late Victorian period. The queerness is largely subtextual, but this is an expression of one of the primary themes of the story; namely, that some things benefit from not being openly perceived, and many people remain outside of neatly defined categories by choice.

Here’s an excerpt from my review:

As a genre, the gothic lures the reader with the promise of hidden secrets coming to light. In the context of Western Europe, these secrets often lurked in the shadows cast by the industrial revolution. For a person who doesn’t belong to the imperial core, however, shadows have a different meaning. Perhaps, Riotbones suggests, not everything benefits from exposure to an “enlightened” Western gaze. For people who don’t fit neatly into rational, scientific categories, the shadows provide a more comfortable place to exist. Now that Jude finds himself in a position between “colonial” and “native,” he must learn how to navigate the liminal spaces that exist beyond the boundaries of the law.

You can read the full review on Comics Beat here:
https://www.comicsbeat.com/graphic-novel-review-strange-cases/

Review of the Girl Who Loved Monsters on Comics Beat

I recently had the pleasure of writing a review for Comics Beat about a middle grade graphic novel called The Girl Who Loved Monsters. This is a fun story that reminds me of the Goosebumps books, with all their campiness and dubious messaging and over-the-top silliness, and I could tell that both the writer and the artist were having a fantastic time. It’s always a pleasure to see new and original spooky stories for younger readers, and this is an especially good one.

Here’s an excerpt from my review:

The Girl Who Loved Monsters feels nostalgically reminiscent of the Goosebumps series of pulp horror novels for children that were popular in the 1990s. Many elements of this graphic novel’s story and art are extremely campy, and the combination of creepiness and humor creates a carnival-like sense of fun. Though the timeworn story of kids on bikes chasing down a monster may seem like a simple treat taken directly from a Halloween candy bucket, Franklin’s dynamic art and Fitzpatrick’s sensitive character writing elevate The Girl Who Loved Monsters to a thrilling and heartwarming horror adventure that young readers will eagerly devour.

You can read the full review on Comics Beat here:
https://www.comicsbeat.com/the-girl-who-loved-monsters/

Hollow: Ten Tales of Fallen Knights

Hollow: Ten Tales of Fallen Knights collects a series of original short stories about knights who have found themselves in unfortunate circumstances. In the shadows cast by crumbling kingdoms, what inspires these knights to keep fighting?

Though the primary genre of the stories in this zine is dark fantasy, their tone is elegiac bordering on hopeful. Just as in my Ruins zine, the underlying theme is “regrowth after disaster,” though a few of these knights’ means of achieving that regrowth is a bit violent. Some dragons really need to die, if you catch my meaning.

All of the knights who appear in this collection happen to be female; but, as in the Dark Souls games that loosely inspired these stories, their gender is the least important thing about them. I just think lady knights are cool.

A free digital version of the zine is available on Itch.io, and paper copies are on Etsy.

⚔️ https://digitalterrarium.itch.io/fallen-knights
⚔️ https://www.etsy.com/listing/4570018912/fallen-knights-dark-fantasy-zine

Review of Bold Breaks: Japanese Women and Literary Narratives of Divorce

I recently had the honor of writing a short review of the anthology Bold Breaks: Japanese Women and Literary Narratives of Divorce for the online academic journal Studies on Asia.

Bold Breaks combines four substantial literary translations with a lovely set of introductory and contextual essays by the translators. It’s a very cool anthology on an important theme that’s gotten surprisingly little scholarly attention, and I’d love to see more books like this!

Here’s a short excerpt from my review:

With its equal emphasis on translation and analysis, Bold Breaks points toward a model that deserves to be more widely adopted, especially as there are relatively few books that pair substantial works of translated fiction with critical analysis that remains accessible without sacrificing depth. The generous endnotes and translator introductions contextualize the stories while illuminating the craft of translation itself, underscoring how interpretation and analysis are inseparable. It’s also worth noting that the collection is a pleasure to read, as the stories carry an emotional immediacy that complements their scholarly framing.

If you’re interested, you can read the full review here:
https://studiesonasia.scholasticahq.com/article/164797-book-review

Ladies of the Knight Review on Comics Beat

Comics Beat recently gave the opportunity to write a review for the graphic novel Ladies of the Knight, which just came out earlier in July. This book is so much fun! If you’re into knights and ladies and lady knights and nonbinary knights of all shapes and sizes, this one is for you.

I’m not typically a fan of sports stories. A great deal of the culture surrounding sports in real life has always felt unwelcoming to me, especially as someone who has trouble navigating gender binaries. Thankfully, Ladies of the Knight is modeled on the colorful inclusivity of roller derby, and it brings the same joyful spirit of competition to a story about an older knight who has to learn how to deal with her squire’s youthful enthusiasm.

Here’s an excerpt from my review:

From the immense mainstream popularity of the dark fantasy game Elden Ring to the continued success of the crowdfunded series of knight-themed art books published by Dames Productions, medieval knights seem to be having a cultural moment.

Given the enthusiasm of young and queer art communities, I suspect this love for knights has less to do with a conservative interest in the history of Western Europe and more to do with a speculative imagination that has shifted away from science fiction as the technological dreams of the twentieth century have been tainted by recent associations with the dystopian realities of corporate enshittification. Fantasies celebrating difference and otherness were once projected onto robots free of human limitations, but perhaps it now makes more sense to tell stories about knights who aim for greatness while still being bound within the confines of their humanity and human relationships.

You can read the full review on Comics Beat here:
https://www.comicsbeat.com/ladies-of-the-knight-review/

Essay about Barret Wallace on Unwinnable

Just in time for the Final Fantasy VII Revelation announcement, my essay “Barret Wallace Was Not Wrong” was published on Unwinnable (here)! This essay is about the joy of blowing up data centers Mako reactors, and I had a lot of fun writing it.

The truth is that I’ve been thinking about the relationship between precarity and stochastic violence a lot these days, and I really can’t blame anyone for fantasizing about it. If I’m being totally honest, I have to admit that I’ve had some daydreams about it myself. My pet fantasy at the moment involves planting poison ivy all around the building that’s rumored to be the de facto [redacted] field office in Philadelphia, and I’ve also indulged in more than a few vivid daydreams about the Waymo cars and Uber Eats delivery robots I sometimes see around town.

As satisfying as setting community hazards on fire might feel in the moment, though, I’m not convinced that individual acts of violence ultimately serve any greater purpose. But then what? Are we supposed to just make angry posts online without actually doing anything?

We have plenty of stories about fictional teenagers and superheroes saving the world from archvillains to use as models of action, but they’re not obviously not grounded in reality. We also have stories about real-life wealthy philanthropists using their resources to make a difference, but that’s not really useful to the vast majority of us either. Then I started thinking about Barret Wallace in Final Fantasy VII, who is dead broke and disabled in his mid-thirties but decides to take on a giant corporation anyway. And you know what? That’s a model of heroism that resonates with me.

Here’s an excerpt from my essay:

At the end of the game, Barret Wallace does end up saving the world, but not through terrorism. Instead, he becomes a key figure in a loosely federated community of people committed to practical action that transcends individual acts of violence. This community includes Shinra’s victims as well as its former and current employees, from veterans of its space program to disgruntled middle managers. Barret wasn’t wrong when he took action against Shinra; he just didn’t yet see how powerful a global resistance movement could be.

You can read the full essay on Unwinnable here:
https://unwinnable.com/2026/06/08/barret-wallace-was-not-wrong

The Book of Murmurs Review on Comics Beat

I recently had the opportunity to write a review of The Book of Murmurs, a new graphic novel from Fantagraphics about a young girl who goes on a magical journey through a fantasy world.

You probably think you know what you’re getting from that description, but this is an incredibly rich and dense story. I actually had to push back my review because, as I explained to my editor, I wasn’t expecting this book to be House of Leaves Junior. Formulating the basic outline of the plot was an intriguing challenge, and I had to do a fair bit of outside research, which included finding interviews with the artist while studying her social media posts. In case this sounds like a bad thing, please rest assured that The Book of Murmurs is well worth the time and effort.

Here’s an excerpt from my review:

In a launch day interview, Purwin describes her work as a reflection of her experience as a child growing up in the 1980s, when lush fantasy films like Labyrinth and The Secret of Nimh were suffused with sinister undertones and didn’t always make sense. Purwin says that she created The Book of Murmurs for her younger self, who would stay up late to watch movies like Stand by Me and then spend days dwelling on the unfamiliar imagery while processing a lingering sense of unease. The Book of Murmurs perfectly captures the sense of fascination with forms and meanings half-glimpsed through shadows, always asking compelling questions that don’t have straightforward answers.

I’d like to expand on my review here and say that I would have loved The Book of Murmurs as a kid. As an adult who appreciates the fragmented and nonlinear storytelling of The Magnus Archives and Bloodborne, I really enjoyed getting lost in this graphic novel. Based on the artist’s gorgeous and heartbreaking social media minicomics about Palestinian refugees, I also get the sense that there are strong political currents underlying the adventure story, and I hope this book receives the sympathetic scholarly attention it deserves. It’s so good.

You can read my full review on Comics Beat here:
https://www.comicsbeat.com/book-of-murmurs-review/

My New Hobby Craves Violence Review

I’ve got a review of a minicomic zine appearing in Issue 4 of The Comics Courier, which is crowdfunding until July 1 on Kickstarter (here)!

I wrote about My New Hobby Craves Violence, a botanical horror story that’s also about becoming trapped in an addiction to receiving positive feedback online. Kristyna Baczynski is famous for her wholesome nature illustrations, so seeing her take on botanical horror mixed with toxic positivity is a lot of fun.

Here’s an excerpt from my review:

Pip’s situation is all too relatable as she ignores the warning signs of an unhealthy obsession while devoting her attention to the uncanny plant that serves as a consistent source of new content. Still, the analogy of “unhealthy growth” doesn’t work if the botanical horror doesn’t operate on a visceral level, and Baczynski’s horrible little houseplant is amazingly creepy. Its thickly veined leaves twist and squirm across the pages as the comic panels become increasingly crowded and claustrophobic. Text message bubbles pop up between scenes of Pip’s collapsing life, competing for the reader’s attention and engendering a palpable sense of urgency as Pip grabs a pair of pruning shears and struggles to disentangle herself from the clutching vines. 

The Kickstarter project has already met its funding goal, so the issue should be out soon. The Comics Courier is a fantastic publication – I really enjoyed the first three issues – and I’m very happy to see it loved and supported.

You can preorder a copy of The Comics Courier with my review here:
https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/tiffanybabb/the-comics-courier-a-comics-criticism-journal-issue-4