kiya

I just finished reading Pet Human, and it's well worth a quick recommendation.

In the original graphic novel, our protagonist is Buster, and as the title suggests -- he's a family pet. On this alien world, the dominant species are bipedal but nothing like human: some 20 feet tall, profusely furry, with two tails (like much life on this planet). They're technologically sophisticated, but apparently pretty in tune with nature.

His owners do the bulk of the talking, in their own language. Which I suspect is reasonably fully thought out, but I haven't spent the work to parse much of it beyond a few key phrases -- and the same is true for Buster. He is human, after all, and he's not dumb, but he lives a mostly happy, pampered life: occasionally getting into trouble, but mostly being a fairly content househuman.

He's by no means the only one, of course: when he gets put on his leash and taken out for walks, there are plenty of other humans also out for walkies. But they mostly don't have a common language, so conversation between them isn't very common. (A few humans have gotten fairly decent at their owners' language, but most haven't.)

This is a sweet story, if melancholy at times. It is not trying to be creepy -- rather, it's a story of a household, going through realistic (if slightly alien) ups and downs, with some joy and some tragedy, through the eyes of the beloved pet.

Then there is the sequel -- Pet Human: the Stray. This is the story of Buster's twin brother Zuul, separated from him when they were young children. Zuul was eventually adopted by a far less kind owner, from whom he quickly escapes, and goes out to explore this world they're living in.

The Stray finally gets into the question of "What the bloody hell is going on here?", and yes, it's more than just metaphor: this is a fairly real and serious science fiction story, taking an acid look at what might happen if humanity tried to escape to the stars.

It explores under the bridges and out in the forests, where the wild humans live. Some have managed to build their own little societies, away from the owners. But this is a fairly wild planet (see "in tune with nature"), and not entirely benign for human survival, so many humans have wound up feral, and are just barely getting by on scraps.

The two stories are each complete, but best read together: they interlock and eventually come together at the end, and make a solidly satisfying, quiet tale.

The art throughout is spectacular, really next-level stuff: they apparently spent eight years making these books, and it shows. The world is lush and fully rendered, bright and colorful, full of life that is varied but has a streak of sense and consistency to it. That's important, because these are quiet stories: the only English is the occasional thought balloon, and the majority of panels are entirely wordless. But the art is consistently clear and expressive, and carries the story very effectively.

Highly recommended. I read both stories in their digital editions, which works well, but I'll admit that I'm tempted to pick this one up in paper -- it's bookshelf-quality stuff. Check it out!

We just got home from seeing Black Swan at the ART. I'm still out of breath.

Once in a while, I leave an ART show going, "That had freaking well better win the Tony in a couple of years": this is back in that form.

It's a musical adaptation of the famous movie about ballet, Swan Lake, and a dancer who succumbs to mental illness as they prepare for opening night. Do not take "musical" to mean "light and happy": this is the most intense thing I've seen since Jagged Little Pill, maybe even moreso.

It was no surprise that the choreography is brilliant, especially once Kate pointed out (during intermission) that that was from Sonya Tayeh, one of the great choreographers of our time. What took me more by surprise was that the direction, also by Sonya, was dead-on perfect -- absolutely terrifying as Nina, our protagonist, slowly goes from "a little fragile" to utterly broken, flipping from joy to despair to horror moment by moment.

Acting was absolutely solid, especially the primary leads (Nina, Lily, and to a fair degree Margo, each with their own very distinct character and subtle arc), and the casting choices perfect.

This one comes with big content warnings that should be taken seriously: there is significant blood and subtle body horror (nothing gory per se, but deeply unsettling at times), and seriously intense light strobes that practically had me jumping out of my seat at times. This is a psychological horror story, and it immerses you in Nina's experience -- it had me string-tense, especially in the second act.

tl;dr -- it's brilliant, probably the best show I've seen in years. If you can get tickets, I give it my highest recommendation.