I should preface this with the disclaimer that some sources credit me as a co-illustrator of this book, and while I admit Jonathan Hill hired me to do some editorial work including art cleanup, any part I had in Odessa’s creation was entirely in service of his vision. I’m writing this book from the perspective of a fan of Hill’s work and of good comics in general. I will not benefit in any way from Odessa’s success aside from the satisfaction of seeing a good thing get the recognition it deserves.
That said, Odessa is really, really good. It’s coming out at a time when consuming anything vaguely apocalyptic may be unfathomable to you, and I get it. It’s a complicated genre that feels all-too-real in a time with rapidly accelerating climate change, an ongoing global pandemic, and the reality that 71 million Americans recently voted to reelect a living symbol of white supremacy. Still, I urge you to give it a shot. It stands apart from its genre as a story that is glowing with hope but doesn’t for a second pretend that hope alone will solve our problems. It investigates dark themes without glorifying violence or selfishness. It asks, “How in the world are we going to get through this?” and gives you a definitive answer.
If that’s enough to make you want to read Odessa, please go do that.
It comes out today and you can probably buy it from your local bookstore. What follows is my own critique of the book, and while I’ll do my best to avoid spoiling the plot, I believe it is best enjoyed with as little foreknowledge as possible.
Odessa, written and illustrated by Jonathan Hill, follows the story of three siblings: Ginny, the oldest and the central protagonist; Wes, the cranky and practical middle child; and Harry, the naïve youngest child with a heart of gold. The three Crane siblings are struggling to get by in a world that has been torn apart. They grew up largely in the aftermath of a massive earthquake along the Cascadia fault line that caused the collapse of American society. More importantly, the Crane siblings were abandoned by their mother (the titular character of Odessa), an event that shook their faith in the goodness of the world and reduced their father to a tired shell of the man he once was. Unable to move on from this loss, the siblings decide that the only option left is to track down their mother and reunite their family, or at the very least get answers as to why she left.
What follows is a true Odyssey of trials and tribulations as the Crane siblings traverse a world full of dangers. For the most part, it appears that a lawless world has emerged from the earthquake, ruled by bloodthirsty gangs and ravaged by strange and horrifying forces. Time and time again, the Cranes come toe-to-toe with death and their bonds are pushed to the limit. Reading this book, I became truly invested in the dynamics of this family and every moment of compassion and understanding between them felt like an earned victory in the struggle to stay together.
Hardship damages relationships in ways that can feel irreparable. It tests the trust we place in those we love and can leave us feeling alone and beyond help. Ginny in particular recognizes this, doubting herself and her ability to protect her brothers more and more as time goes on. Somehow, however, the Cranes keep going. They desperately hold onto the hope that they march in the direction of some relief from the pain they feel. Most of all, they appear to be sustained by the hope of the youngest brother, Harry. Yes, he is struggling, but he still has enough curiosity and joy in his heart to see the best in people and to appreciate the beauty in the world.
An aside — The world that Harry finds himself in is remarkably beautiful. Hill produces scenes of the wilderness restored and of the humans rebuilding in its shadow that feel right at home with Naughty Dog’s 2013 game The Last of Us, a huge accomplishment considering its comparative simplicity. However, where The Last of Us savors its darkness, rendering every entrail and severed limb with utmost realism, Odessa caricatures it. It has villains so cartoonish in appearance that it would be hard to take them seriously were it not for the fact that Hill manages to make their threat feel real on every single page. This speaks to the larger balancing act of the story’s tone, which (with some minor exceptions) never lets things fall into stark self-seriousness or self-parody.
As much as he is right to appreciate this beauty, Harry’s perspective is that which could only come from a child not yet beaten down by the world. It’s foolish and inspiring in equal measure. Harry is the angel on Ginny’s shoulder, both bringing her confidence and keeping her accountable to her own moral code. He’s the kind of person I wish I could be.
Their brother Wes, on the other hand, keeps Ginny grounded and is always there to remind her of the reality of the situation. He is practical, slow to trust, and rightfully angry about the world he finds himself in. Wes is the kind of person that I wish we didn’t need to be but we all gravitate towards as we are bombarded with hardship.
While it’s not surprising that Odessa focuses on the endeavor to remain kind, caring, and empathetic in the face of adversity (I think all good post-apocalyptic fiction does that), I am stunned by its thoughtfulness and nuance in approaching this subject. Bad things happen to good people all of the time within its story — oftentimes as a direct result of their kindness, trust, or mercy. Still, they persist. Why?
With that in mind, I’m going to talk about the coronavirus.
Odessa was written in its entirety before the start of the COVID-19 pandemic, and yet for it to come out now feels incredibly timely. In the world of Odessa, a disaster has left humanity divided, afraid, and more vulnerable than ever. People are fiercely invested in their own self-interests and unwilling to make sacrifices for anyone else’s sake. Yes, there are exceptions, but there’s rarely any personal benefit to helping others, and there are plenty of clear incentives not to.
I am young and have no pre-existing medical conditions. If I got sick with the coronavirus tomorrow, I would probably be fine. However, within my household alone, I can count 3 people for whom it could be fatal, including my wife. Within my larger community, there are countless more. For those people, I wear a mask when I go outside and I limit my exposure to other humans as much as possible. Being stuck inside, isolated from my friends and loved ones, has been more damaging to my emotional and mental wellbeing than I could have imagined. Still, I do it.
You might think it’s a stretch to compare saving a stranger from a murderous motorcycle gang with wearing a mask, but the point is that we are social animals that depend on consideration and sometimes even self-sacrifice for the good of the whole. The same applies when people freeze on the streets of cities with empty homes, and it applies when people die from disease because they couldn’t afford the treatment. The earth itself might crack apart, but the need for humans to do the hard thing and help those who need it will always be there. As that motorcycle-gang-attack-survivor in Odessa says:
“Things never end. They just change.”
Throughout Odessa, the Crane siblings serve as proof that caring about other people is the right way to live, even if it doesn’t always work out for them. Yes, Harry’s sunny outlook is inspiring, but ultimately the book feels most powerful when even Wes, as pessimistic and utilitarian as he is, comes to the same conclusion. Helping people is the right thing to do from a moral perspective, but it’s also inarguably the most beneficial to everyone. The Cranes help those in need, and through some shaky karmic balance, they escape death time and time again on the mercy of spontaneous human kindness.
The suggestion that you need to give a crap about other people, and that our society is much better off if everyone takes this approach, might not sound particularly radical. However, if there’s anything I’ve learned over the last few years, it’s that there are at least tens of millions of people who would disagree with me.
So, how in the world do we get through this? How do we recover and move on from the chasm that lies at our feet? Hope is a part of that answer, but it needs to come with trust, compassion, and interconnectedness. No one can do it alone.
Odessa isn’t a perfect book. As I mentioned before, its tone doesn’t always land for me. It leans pretty heavily on established tropes of the genre at times, although thankfully it never becomes too predictable. Most of all, I think it has some issues with pacing that are compounded by the horror that will dawn on you as you approach its end that the story isn’t over yet. It stops in the middle of its second act with a true low point for its heroes and so many more questions than answers. Thematically, it does manage to come full circle and I wouldn’t call it unsatisfying, but it’s obvious that this is a story which is still keeping its cards close to the chest. I must confess that part of why I’m writing this in the first place is that I desperately want this book to sell well enough that Hill is forced to make a sequel.
I should note some other accomplishments: Odessa is Hill’s first graphic novel that he wrote on his own, and I think the writing is quite good. The dialogue is believable and snappy and there are many moments that stick out in my mind because of how genuine and emotionally compelling they are. As a middle child of a large family, I think that the dynamics between the Crane siblings are represented incredibly well and make each of the three all the more lovable. Like Hill, the Cranes are Vietnamese-American, which is refreshing to see in an industry that overwhelmingly centers white perspectives. It’s vital for people of marginalized backgrounds to have stories that aren’t just about those parts of their identities, and Odessa is a great example of this. Hill writes about this very subject here and puts it into words so much better than I ever could. On that note, this book also includes a queer romance that is lovingly-written and doesn’t end with either party dying, and I am so thankful for it.
Thanks for reading. As I said before, Odessa is out today, and I’d really appreciate it if you’d buy it from a local bookstore and give it a read.
