Oh, mini kus. It’s always a delight to get a new stack of comics from these fine folks, and I’m always excited to see just what selection of four or more artists and stories I’m going to be reading this time around. Then I grab the first one out of the stack, and it’s a devastatingly emotional tale of trauma and loss and how impossible it can be to pick up the pieces, and suddenly my mood is changed completely. It’s an amazing comic, don’t get me wrong, but here’s a trigger warning for anybody who’s gone through physical trauma like this and maybe don’t want to be reminded of it. It’s a story told in a word or two per page, sometimes less, and you can almost feel the pain on the page with the many black smudges from Sara’s fingerprints. It feels like a story that had to come out, that hurt to come out, and the reader is left with the uncomfortable question of whether or not it’s any better for her now that it has. Never assume autobiography, is a lesson I’ve learned (and forgotten) many times while writing these reviews, so I can only hope that this is fiction. I doubt it, but this much pain on the page still has me hoping that that’s the case. $7.95 (or here’s a link to this and the next three issues of mini kus)
