Well, folks, it’s finally time. My Comics of 2024 now stand revealed. This portion of The SKTCHD AWRDS — my absolutely real, completely not fake awards show — focuses on the comics, graphic novels, manga series, webcomics, zines, or whatever else that I loved from 2024, a year that was without a doubt a monstrous one in terms of the quantity and quality we saw from the medium. To celebrate that, 25 awards will be handed out in this single post to my Comics of 2024, with each of those designed to highlight different characteristics from the work I’m writing about.

But because I am me, and because this task is a subjective one, I had rules guiding me as I decided what could or could not make my list. Those were the following:

• These aren’t the “best” comics of the year. I don’t believe I can determine that on my own. What I can do is share my favorites and what I loved about them. That’s what this is.
• Another reason this isn’t a “best of” list is while quality was my primary determinant, I’d be lying if I said the pleasure of the reading experience wasn’t crucial to me. So, keep that in mind.
• I only considered a single-issue title if it released a minimum of three issues — or three issues worth of pages, which is an important caveat — within the confines of the year, and it had to do so by the time my list was complete (which was December 9th).
• Work released in 2024 was my sole focus. However, if I read it in single issues (or some other format) in 2023 or before, it wasn’t an option. Apologies to many, many trade paperbacks, as well as some graphic novels that were rereleases or collected works released in another form!
• That said, if a comic had been published in another language but arrived in English for the first time this year, it was eligible for these awards.

That’s it. Let’s get to handing out SKTCHD AWRDS to my Comics of 2024. Oh, and if you’d like to read about my Creators of 2024, you can find that here. Also, if you enjoy what you read in this piece, consider subscribing to SKTCHD for more like it.

The Small Beginnings Award: Aliens vs. Avengers

Why it stands out: On the surface, including Aliens vs. Avengers might seem like a cheat. After all, there have only been two issues in the four months since this series started. So, why is it eligible? Because of an exception I always include: I “only considered a single-issue title if it released a minimum of three issues — or three issues worth of pages.” This has certainly reached that threshold, as its first issue was a monstrous 44 pages while its second was 33.

So, it qualified. And it made it because, simply put, this comic is an absolute banger. That might surprise you. It’s “Aliens vs. Avengers,” a title that practically screams “well-timed cash grab fueled by a movie release.” But with Jonathan Hickman writing, Esad Ribić drawing, Ive Svorcina coloring, and Cory Pettit lettering, should we really be surprised that Aliens vs. Avengers surpasses our expectations and then some? Probably not.

And yet, some likely were.

Here’s where I am going to hit you with a hot take, though: I genuinely think this comic is Marvel’s best title right now on a pound-for-pound basis. And it isn’t just because Marvel is in a slump right now, even though it is. This is just a great Marvel comic, one that finds the creative team behind 2015’s Secret Wars reuniting (besides its letterer) to tell a story that has more in common with massive, dazzling event stories like that than your average title that’s timed for a movie’s release. Aliens vs. Avengers feels like one of Marvel’s The End stories, except in this case it isn’t character-centric but a look at how Hickman’s varying threads could have all paid off if he was given a chance to play them all out at Marvel. That alone rules. But when you find the team deftly working varying aspects from the larger Alien franchise — from obvious pulls like xenomorphs and face huggers to less expected ones like the Engineers and various versions of the David android — into the story as the impetus for that conclusion, it’s even more impressive.

While some may bristle at the release schedule for this series, I’d rather that Hickman, Ribić, and the rest of the creative team have the runway they need to tell this tale the way they want. That’s because this comic, one that easily could have been a forgettable crossover, has a chance to — and I cannot believe I’m going to say this — be one of the best Marvel titles of this decade, and maybe even prove to be the rare entry from the publisher that exists as a standalone and evergreen seller when collected. As David said in Prometheus, “big things have small beginnings,” and this series is certainly proof of that.

The More Than It Seems Award: Beneath the Trees Where Nobody Sees

Why it stands out: Judging someone purely based on their surface can be a losing proposition. That’s because the surface can hide a lot. An influencer could have a hot mess of a life outside their content, that friend who has it all together might not, and that seemingly unlikable individual could prove to be your best friend, if given the chance. Not everything is at it seems in life, and that is constantly shown to be true, if you manage to probe past the surface.

And Patrick Horvath’s Beneath the Trees Where Nobody Sees showcases that very idea rather well.

This IDW series is about a hardware store owner who lives her life in a cheerful hamlet, doing her thing while maintaining a positive relationship with everyone she comes across. She’s also a bear, but that’s not atypical here. Everyone in this story is an anthropomorphic animal of some sort in a Richard Scarry sort of way, as many have noted. What is less typical is she’s also a serial killer, one whose hunting ground is a nearby city, and a sociopath that plays a role in her town because it allows her the freedom to live her murderous lifestyle without suspicion. On the surface, she’s an upstanding citizen, but in reality, she’s a monster, albeit one you cannot help but like as a reader.

That idea rocks, and it’s one that’s perfectly executed by Horvath — particularly on the art side, as his watercolors are a revelation and his character work impresses — and letterer Hassan Otsmane-Elhaou, someone whose best work from an Eisner Award winning year may have come here. It’s a rip roaring yarn, a page turner you cannot get enough of even as nightmarish things are happening. There are few comics from 2024 that are a better blend of pure entertainment and sheer comic craft than this one. And that’s another example of why you have to look past the surface. Many readers might have skipped this simply because it was an IDW series from a comparative unknown. But that would have been a mistake, as Horvath has taken to the medium like a veteran, and one with talent pouring from his entire being.

On multiple levels, Beneath the Trees Where Nobody Sees is evidence that things are often more than they seem. Whether it’s about a creator or their creation, there can be more to them if you’re willing to look. While the comic is great simply because it’s great, its unexpected nature made it all the better, and helped make it one of the true standouts from a banner year in comics.

If you’d like to hear about how this series came together, make sure to listen to Horvath’s appearance on Off Panel from earlier this year.

The Lived In Award: Dead Days

Why it stands out: One of the things I appreciate the most about each year’s slate from the ShortBox Comics Fair is you really never know what to expect from any of these stories. You might go in believing a comic you bought is going to be about one thing, but then it ends up being something completely different than what you expected. Alice Scarpa’s 2024 entry Dead Days showcases that well. I bought it for one reason and one reason alone: I loved Scarpa’s cover. It instantly popped for me. It was an easy buy, even though I didn’t read the synopsis that came with it. It just felt right thanks to that cover.

In a lot of ways, though, that cover proved to be prophetic. While there was something about this cover that stood out, its the little details on it that were emblematic of what you’d find inside. The main character’s trepidation, her father’s knowing smile, the individual elements to her family members and the town that surrounds them…each of those acted as a promise for how lived in this story would prove to feel overall. Dead Days is a story of Scarpa revisiting a town in Italy her family used to summer in, and a summer she spent there as a teenager that found her family going through change while one of her long-standing relationships was evolving. It isn’t a big story, or a showy one. But what it lacks in electricity it makes up for in the margins.

Scarpa has a gift for bringing worlds and characters to life. Maybe that is made easier because this is, as she put it, an “autofiction” story about her own life. But it takes real vision and talent to make even a partially true story like this resonate to the degree Dead Days does. Scarpa has that, as she makes this story feel real thanks to her attention to detail and truly wondrous gifts as a cartoonist. This is a beautiful comic, but also one that’s nearly impossible to not connect with in a real way. It was the standout from this year’s incredible slate of ShortBox Comics Fair releases, and that’s all thanks to the prodigious talents of its creator.

The Empathy Award: Dog Days

Why it stands out: I was fully ready for this comic to break my heart.

I knew that going in, but I still wasn’t ready for it. You see, I’m one of the many, many absolute suckers for animals. And when I see them in stories, there’s at least part of me that worries for their fates. I wasn’t always like that, of course. Before I adopted my cats, Kubo and Kai, I thrived on the freedom that having neither children or animals provided me. Everything changed when they entered my life, though, and for the better.

That’s what cartoonist Keum Suk Gendry-Kim discovered as well, as her graphic novel Dog Days showcases. It’s the story of her and her husband (or at least a stand-in for the two of them, of sorts) adopting their first dog when she really didn’t want one, and how she went went from someone with genuine uncertainty about having a pet to a person with a deep love for all things canine. But it’s also the story of their move to a small town in their home of South Korea, a location with a much different relationship with dogs than the rest of the world has. Told in vignettes, it’s about Yuna’s (that’s the cartoonist’s stand-in) evolving relationship with dogs, the experience of living in the countryside, and the menagerie of animals she takes care of there to varying degrees. It’s also about the country itself, with Gendry-Kim illuminating readers on the realities of South Korea’s relationship with animals, the cruelty that can come with, and — thanks to the afterword — how that continues to shift.

Mostly, though, it’s an engrossing, thoughtful, and emotional tour of the impact that animals can have on people and societies alike. The thing that really staggers me about this story, though, is the empathy Gendry-Kim brings to it. Whether it’s truthfully and painfully showcasing her early skepticism towards dog ownership, the comings and sometimes terribly unfortunate goings of neighborhood dogs, or how she views her neighbors who have archaic relationships with these animals, this is a graphic novel that’s crafted with real honesty without rubbing the reader’s nose into the judgment of it all. It’s about understanding, even if said understanding is about something that brings her and this reader real pain. It’s a masterful work, and evidence of how graphic novels can be about anything, if the right person is behind it.

While Dog Days never managed to break my heart, I will say this: It’s a read that has stuck with me well after I finished it. And in a year with dozens and dozens of contenders for this list, that means a lot.

The Go Your Own Way Award: Fantastic Four

Why it stands out: How does one tackle a set of characters and a comic with 60 plus years of history behind them? That’s a good question. The challenge there is, hasn’t every type of story been told already, and every angle for each character has to have been explored, right?

That’s what some might think. But if this current volume of Fantastic Four proves anything, it’s that that just isn’t true — and that long-running comics like this can have a lot more to them if put in the right hands.

The biggest reason for that is writer Ryan North, the constant on a series with a pretty variable relationship with artists both on the outside and inside of the covers (the outside has been Alex Ross and Joshua Cassara, while the insides this year mostly came from Carlos Gomez and Ivan Fiorelli). It felt like North would be a good fit for these characters from the beginning, as they match his sensibilities and his keen interest in science. And yet, reality has greatly outpaced my expectations, as North went his own way with his collaborators in building a Fantastic Four series that feels nothing like the others that preceded it, while still staying true to its entire cast and their core concept. That’s a hard line to walk, but one this creative team has walked well.

There are a number of things they do that make this possible. A big one is its structure. The whole series is made of one to two issue stories that feel satisfying in isolation. That’s both unique and effective. Another is how North mines different pairings of characters to give us new flavors of Fantastic Four stories, whether it’s Reed Richards and Alicia Masters-Grimm teaming up for a Blood Hunt tie-in, a special issue about Franklin Richards and his near unlimited powers, or Ben Grimm…and a dog who won’t stop hanging around the house? Trust me, it works. No matter what characters are mixed together, the team makes it sing. Lastly, there’s the science of it all, as North wisely makes this series less about fisticuffs and more about outside-the-box problem solving, something that gives this series a unique feel and energy throughout.

Going your own way alone won’t deliver greatness, whether it’s in creating comics or anything else. There is plenty of evidence of that throughout the years in comics alone. But it can provide a useful foundation, and one that gives creators like North, Gomez, Fiorelli, and more a canvas to create something fresh from a cast that’s been around the block many times over. This Fantastic Four volume is a big swing, and it’s one that’s connected in a real way. Even more impressively, it just continues to get better and better with each passing issue.

If you’d like to hear more about this series and the story behind how it’s made, make sure to listen to North’s appearance on Off Panel from earlier this year.

The Hardest Decision Award: Frontier

Why it stands out: Guillaume Singelin’s Frontier earns a rare kind of award from me in the sense that it isn’t in reference to something about the book, but something about me. That’s because reading Frontier resulted in what proved to be the most challenging decision I had to make during this entire endeavor. For months, I had known with certainty what my Comic of the Year was. But reading Frontier put that in doubt. It’s just that good, and good enough that I briefly considered splitting my Comic of the Year award between two titles.

I couldn’t do that, though. So instead, this English translation of a graphic novel from France earns The Hardest Decision Award. Frontier and my eventual pick for Comic of the Year do have something in common, though, and that’s that they exist on a tier of that’s entirely their own. Like with its soon-to-be-revealed twin from this year, Frontier isn’t just one of my favorite comics of the year but one of my favorite comics ever.

It tells the story of a trio of individuals (and a baby monkey) existing in a version of the future where humanity mostly lives in space, and because people are how people are, the future and our species have been shaped by corporate greed and the exhaustion of resources — including people themselves. That’s the foundation Frontier is built upon, but really, it’s all set up for Singelin to tour the worlds and environments he’s created as this graphic novel’s leads ping pong from one status quo to another. It’s like space tourism, except our tour guides are the huddled masses that society has chewed up and spit out as they try to survive a reality that isn’t of their choosing.

That sounds like a bummer. It isn’t. This is an unbelievably entertaining and engrossing read, one that pairs Singelin’s remarkable cartooning of characters — into chibi adjacent models nonetheless — with his endless enthusiasm for filling every nook and cranny of his pages with details that reflect this reality and its denizens. To read this book is to become immersed in it. You can’t help but be swallowed up by this story and Singelin’s practically limitless imagination. This story has a ton of depth in every way a story can have depth, but it’s also the reflection of a cartoonist with real vision for both what the medium of comics and humanity are capable of — for better or worse. Frontier is a masterclass of science fiction storytelling by one of the most exciting cartoonists in comics, and easily one of my favorite reads of the year.

The Sum of its Parts Award: Helen of Wyndhorn

Why it stands out: On the strength of its creative team alone, Helen of Wyndhorn seemed likely to succeed, both in terms of sales and proving to be a quality comic. Writer Tom King, artist Bilquis Evely, colorist Matheus Lopes, and letterer Clayton Cowles are notable both individually and for their collaboration on the DC series Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow, so we know what they’re capable of. That meant that this Dark Horse series had both a high floor and a high ceiling. We knew that and expected it, but what this series also proved is that sometimes even known creative teams can add up to more than the sum of their parts if they find the right story to tell.

Helen of Wyndhorn has a great concept at its core. It’s the tale of a broken family, and the destructive truth at the core of said family — that the fictional reality the father of the titular Helen created for his fantasy series is actually real, with the entry to that world being near her grandfather’s estate of Wyndhorn — that’s been hidden from its lead for her entire life. That alone makes it spicy. But the fact that the creative team encases it in bookends of a sort that showcase the lasting power of stories and how some truths can prove to be too much to believe makes it that much easier. This is a unique and entertaining read, and a fantasy story that delivers a different flavor than we’re used to from the genre.

But let’s be real: While all the parts are great, this is Evely and Lopes’ show. Helen of Wyndhorn is, simply put, one of the best looking comics of the year, and a constant showcase for the gifts of Evely and Lopes. It’s an endlessly detailed comic, as we explore a world that’s loaded with wonder, peril, and big emotions. In an average artist’s hands, this could have been a solid if not unspectacular comic. With Lopes and, particularly, Evely at the head of it, it’s one of my comics of the year. It takes all four core members of the team to make something this spectacular, though, and this quartet proved themselves once again as one of the strongest creative teams working today.

The Comic of the Year Award: Hirayasumi

Why it stands out: Hirayasumi is a fascinating choice here, because if I just explained to you what this manga series is about, you might wonder how I could possibly have picked it as my comic of the year. It all begins when a young man living in Tokyo who has given up on his acting career inherits a house from a woman he befriended, with their relationship oriented on just how warm, kind, and addicted to her cooking he proves to be. That’s the jumping off point for the series, as that inheritance leads to series lead Hiroto’s cousin moving in with him so she can go to art school in Tokyo, and then they just live their lives from there in the way mangaka Keigo Shinzō depicts them as doing so. That sounds nice, but comic of the year material? You could be thinking, “Maybe not.”

And yet, there was no other option for this spot, despite the brief flirtations I had with Frontier, as noted before.

That’s for several reasons. One is that this comic’s comparatively mundane reality is fully realized in a way few comics can dream of. We know and understand everything there is to know and understand about each element of this story. The cast, their lives, who they are, their worldview, everything, and it’s all delivered bit by bit as you live in the world of this story. Some stories thrive by masking their intentions, but Shinzō ensures that Hirayasumi wears its heart on its sleeve and each of its pages. It’s a treasure for that reason alone. The richness of this cast and their lives is deeply appealing.

Another is because there are precious few artists who are this gifted and have a project this attuned to their skills. This is the perfect marriage of talent and comic, as Shinzō is telling a story that pours from his soul — seriously, just read the comic the cartoonist made about how he ended up in the mindset to create a work such as this — with his art acting as the tool he uses to reflect his newfound worldview. These characters and their world feel rich and alive in a truly rare way, and it’s all because of how Shinzō works and thinks about story. This is a beautiful comic, and one that’s beautifully told.

Lastly, we have a much more personal angle. It’s been a challenging year for me personally. That isn’t relevant to the work, but it does illustrate the environment I read the work in. There were times where it felt like nothing could penetrate the gloomy haze that carried throughout my days. But there was Hirayasumi, a star that burned so bright that I didn’t just enjoy it, it reminded me that good days are always on the horizon. That isn’t the reason it’s my pick, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t play a part in it.

Hirayasumi might not sound like it’s comic of the year material. In some ways, it’s ordinary in the way that life is ordinary, and there are certainly showier works out there. But each and every aspect of it is so well-crafted and so thoughtfully made that it simply had to be my pick. This isn’t just a comic you read. You carry it with you afterwards, and you do so both in your heart and your mind. I could not love it more, with Hirayasumi existing on a very short list of the comics I treasure the most.

The …You Know Award: Houses of the Unholy

Why it stands out: What does one say about the collaborations between writer Ed Brubaker, artist Sean Phillips, and colorist Jacob Phillips at this point? You know what you’re going to get each time. You’re going to get an impeccably told story that reflects a group of creators that are so in sync they always reach their creative ceiling. Arguably their greatest enemy is the fact that we’ve so fully come to expect this from them that it can make it easy for us to sleep on their work.

And yet, their one 2024 release — the graphic novel Houses of the Unholy — simply had to make my list, and that’s because they delivered on all the promises of their previous collaborations while delivering a yarn that could not be put down once you picked it up. Told during the apex of the Satanic panic from the 1980s, this story follows a child of that era who becomes a private detective of sorts after she’s pulled back into her past when an FBI agent enters her life and reawakens demons from her youth (both figuratively and, to some degree, literally). If that sounds like a sweet spot for this team to operate within, you wouldn’t be wrong. Each of the characters are classic Brubaker/Phillips creations, the story itself is a powerful one with an ending that sticks with you, and we’re given some exemplary art throughout. What’s not to like?

Again, the biggest challenge here is figuring out to avoid underrating a team like this when greatness is their baseline. It’s a good problem to have, and one that has an easy solution. I just made sure Houses of the Unholy earned a spot in my list of The Comics of 2024, a spot it deserved both for the creators behind it and the comic it proved to be.

The Originality Award: In Utero

Why it stands out: There are enough flavors of kaiju stories to last someone a lifetime. Whether it’s hyper literal big monster brawls, kaiju stories as a stand-in for social ills, or whatever you’d call Nacho Vigalondo’s Colossal, there’s something for everyone, or a great many somethings for your average individual. Chris Gooch’s In Utero is proof of that very idea. The comps its publisher in Top Shelf Productions gave it are “AKIRA meets ALIENS, and ANNIHILATION meets EVANGELION,” but really, those elevator pitches only sort of do this justice. In Utero is a unique kaiju story (of a sort) by a unique creator.

While it has kaiju elements to it, it’s more about a young girl who finds herself as an outsider in a world that continues to reckon with a disastrous event that happened shortly before her birth, and a friendship she strikes up with an older teen at the world’s sketchiest holiday camp. The events of the past and her current reality come crashing together in a story about friendship, family, and — of course — big monsters, but for all the fun Gooch has with the latter, he clearly finds the veins provided by the relationships of the story much more fertile to mine. This is a deeply personal tale, one that uses a foundation of kaijuness to unlock a similarly unique coming-of-age tale about finding yourself and your people, and doing so wherever and in whatever form those come in.

This was my first time reading anything by Gooch. I didn’t really know what to expect from this beyond the clues offered by cover. It’s a striking piece, one that asks the viewer questions but doesn’t really give you answers. And yet, as you read it, you realize it says enough, and sets you up for a journey into the head and heart of this comic’s lead and the being she’s sharing a burgeoning friendship with. I’ve read and watched a great many kaiju stories in my lifetime, but I’ve never experienced one like In Utero. That’s hard to do, and something that’s reflective of a cartoonist with real vision, and the chops to deliver on that vision as well.

The Superhero Comic of the Year Award: Local Man

Why it stands out: It’s long been said that superhero comics are perpetually stuck in the second act. Most characters have been around for so long that true introductions are rare, even with constant relaunches, and finality and/or true progress are often mythical ideas in the genre — especially these days. Neutral is the gear they stick to, even though they are constantly dealing with endings and beginnings of some variety. That’s baked into these stories, and it’s something most readers understand to be true, even if it can be frustrating at times.

Maybe that’s why Local Man hit me as hard as it did. Tim Seeley and Tony Fleecs’ Image Comics series about a failed superhero going back to his hometown to find out who he is after he was kicked out of the world’s preeminent superhero team is a celebration of its creators love of 1990s cape comics. But it’s more than that. This story is fundamentally built on a level of “what’s next” that’s typically impossible for the genre. Its main focus is on evolution. What happens when a superhero cannot be a superhero anymore? Who are they without that side of them? And what do they do when they realize they didn’t like who they were then anyways? Oh, and what happens when your already really old dog accidentally becomes immortal? These are all great questions, and ones Seeley and Fleecs dig into.

All that combines to make a comic that isn’t just a series of fantastic jokes about how insane (and amazing) 1990s superhero comics were, but a story that has depth, emotion, and progress in a way we rarely get to see in this space. Crossjack, the hero at the heart of Local Man, may in fact suck. But what Seeley and Fleecs posit is that doesn’t necessarily mean the man underneath the mask (of a sort) has to. That makes for a much more interesting story, and one that only continued to improve throughout the three arcs and 15 slash 25 issues that made up its run. Local Man was certainly atypical for this genre, but thanks to that in part, it was the finest superhero comic I read in 2024.

The Synchronized Award: Lunar New Year Love Story

Why it stands out: You might not know this about me, but I love a good romance. I’m a massive softie, someone raised during the apex of the romantic comedy that has a affinity for those types of stories. So, I was a natural mark for Gene Luen Yang and LeUyen Pham’s graphic novel Lunar New Year Love Story, a comic with love in its name and in its heart. It’s the story of Valentina, a Vietnamese American high schooler who believes that if she doesn’t find love within a year, her heart will be lost to her imaginary friend (who appears in the shifting form of St. Valentine throughout the tale) forever. What plays out is, in a lot of ways, a tale we’ve seen or read before. But it has a unique spin on the idea, as Valentina’s culture and community help it stand apart from its peers.

That differentiates it, but what elevates it most of all are the talents behind it. Yang is the headliner. That’s for good reason. He’s one of the biggest names in comics and someone who succeeds no matter what he does. He gives this story focus, weight, and authenticity throughout, as we have come to expect from him. But Pham arguably has an even bigger impact on this book. Its visuals sing, and that’s true whether it’s Valentina and her imaginary friend discussing her plight in life, the gorgeous scenes of Val and her friends lion dancing, or the emotional moments she shares with her friends and family alike. There’s an uncommon warmth to Pham’s work, and to this book overall.

Maybe that shouldn’t be a surprise. Pham’s been doing this for a long time and has rightfully earned acclaim over and over. But this is an exceptional work, one that finds her breathing life into every character while making every moment hit like a hammer. She’s a gifted storyteller, and her inks somehow manage to stand out amongst everything she does. They have a staggering amount of personality to them, and they bring weight to every panel and figure within them. This is a remarkable showcase for the artist, one she fully delivers on.

Ultimately, it isn’t just Pham, though. It’s her gifts meshing with Yang’s in a way that makes something special. Their talent unlocks one another in an unusual way, as collectively they become something even more spectacular than they are as individuals. Lunar New Year Love Story is a tale about love, about family, and about letting go of the past so you can have a brighter future. That’s a lot to accomplish in one graphic novel. But in the hands of this duo, a pair that’s as synchronized as the very best of lion dancers, it’s what we should have expected all along.

The To the Max Award: Marriage Toxin

Why it stands out: Everything about Joumyaku and Mizuki Yoda’s manga series Marriage Toxin is psychotic. Don’t take that the wrong way, though. I mean that as a compliment. It’s a mad idea, as this series is about one of the world’s greatest assassins — a poison master from a long line of poison masters — trying to figure out how to make relationships with women work so he can help his sister continue her relationship of love with her girlfriend (in the current state, she’s going to be forced to marry a man so their family’s lineage can continue). The only problem is, his entire life has been dedicated to figuring out how to kill people via poison and poison alone. There wasn’t a lot of space in there to develop relatable anecdotes or to learn how to talk to women. Thankfully, one of his marks proves to be a master of getting whatever gender they’re after to fall in love with them, and a deal they strike ensures that they pair up as our hero enters the dating pool (while continuing to take people out with poison, but this time in hopes of finding love).

The concept is wild, but the execution might be even more so. Joumyaku is always sending readers down insane paths, Mizuki Yoda’s art is through the roof energetic, and when you pair them together you get something even more breathlessly bonkers. Pair its core idea and their collective energy together, and you get a comic that always has its foot to the floor of its gas pedal in the best of ways. You don’t read Marriage Toxin as much as open its pages and hold on for dear life. That, perhaps predictably, makes for a wildly entertaining read.

But it’s also more than just pure fun. You can’t help but root for its lead in Hikaru Gero, someone whose entire life has been dedicated to a cause he does simply because he has no other choice. When he begins to feel joy after his love coach Mei Kinosaki helps him discover other parts of himself to embrace, you feel joy right alongside him. And sure, he’s a bit of a disaster at most things that don’t involve poisoning people. But he’s a good person at heart — or at least a good person for someone who is an assassin by trade — and one you get truly invested in.

Marriage Toxin is a wild comic. That much is certain. But more importantly, it’s a simple idea done well. It’s a story of a young person trying to find love and themself in the process. And sure, they’re going to have to fight some terrifying assassins in lengthy, explosive action sequences to do that. But the hope is, it’ll all be worth it in the end.

It certainly was for this reader.

The Standing Alone Award: Nights

Why it stands out: Nights by Wyatt Kennedy, Luigi Formisano, Francesco Segala, and friends is definitely about something. There are core stories for each of its leads, and there’s a super structure (and shady organization) that’s likely to connect all of them at some point in time. There are big monsters, unusual environments, and alternative histories to reconcile. If you’re looking for a fascinating concept and situation to build from, few are better than Nights with its structure of, “Florida is owned by Spain. America consists of 31 states. Vampires, ghosts, and other supernatural creatures are common and benign. The internet is infantile and irrelevant.” That’s all intriguing and good.

But it’s also kind of secondary?

Nights has its big story things, but most of all, it’s about a quartet of young people (or young-ish people in the case of the immortal maybe-not-a-vampire Gray) living life in a world that’s similar to our own that is just different enough to be endlessly interesting. It’s about found family. It’s about friendship. It’s about secrets. It’s about video games and the unexpected and water parks and big monsters and first loves and the lies we tell ourselves and the lies we tell other people. More than plot, Nights is about vibes, and it’s a truly unique and impressive read because of that. Nights doesn’t feel like any other comic from this year. It only feels like itself. And sure, there are a million other things I could say about it (Formisano’s one of the best artists going right now, Segala’s a revelation, its design is spectacular, etc. etc.), but that is the most important aspect of all.

In a medium filled with a whole lot of comics that look and feel like a whole lot of other comics we’ve read before — in ways both good and bad — Nights is its own thing. And it’s all the better for it.

The Enough! Award: Public Domain

Why it stands out: If there’s been a recurring theme from my year as a comics fan, it’s that I’ve been endlessly complimentary of Chip Zdarsky’s Image Comics series Public Domain. And you know what? That’s just about enough of the kudos! Sure, this series that’s about the biggest superhero intellectual property in the world, its once and future owners, and the family of comic creators — both of the intentional and unintentional variety — who are crafting a new take on the character is “incredible” and “one of my favorite comics of the past few years” and “an ongoing showcase of the fact that Chip Zdarsky is one of the great cartoonists working today.” But there have been far too many compliments to this comic lately.

And god, Chip has sure been trying to earn them too. Whether it’s delivering sequences that perfectly use silence to hit emotional beats even harder, some of the most delightful character work in all the land, or the way he depicts the fraying (or even frayed) relationships at the heart of this series, this comic is equal parts funny and poignant. We get it Chip! You’re good at comics! Public Domain should win a whole bunch of Eisner Awards next year, a result that will assuredly make for one incredible cover in your also awesome Zdarsky Comics News! Geez! You’re exhausting us with this massive talent of yours.

Unfortunately, the compliments will continue until you all are reading Public Domain. So, enough is in fact not enough. Whenever the next volume starts back up, the kudos will recommence. That’s because Public Domain is great, and it deserves it, and you should be reading it.

The Further and Further Award: Self-Esteem and the End of the World

Why it stands out: I have a long-standing theory that if you keep pushing a joke further and further, it becomes funnier and funnier. Now, not everyone agrees with this theory. My wife certainly doesn’t. But I’ve always thought that there is truth to that idea, even if it can be inconsistent.

Luke Healy’s Self-Esteem and the End of the World is evidence that there is at least some semblance of truth to that idea. At its core, this graphic novel is about Healy living his life as he tries to finally answer one of the most important questions he could ask himself: “Who is Luke Healy?” And what starts as a pretty typical (but funny!) and scathing autobio comic keeps pushing things further and further. What environment (or even era) he lives in. What he does for a living. The situations he finds himself in. While it has all the trappings of an autobio comic, it’s more auto than bio, as Healy explores himself and his worldview and everything else in a…let’s say, loosely adapted version of his life.

And you know what? Pushing things further and further does make things funnier. This is one of the, if not the, funniest comics of the year, and it has a moment in it that made me laugh loud enough that I made my cat Kubo wonder what was wrong with me. Healy’s takes on himself, corporations, where society is headed, and everything else are pointed and amusing in all the best ways. But pushing things further and further drives other things too. This is a sad comic, and a thoughtful one, and an insightful one. It’s everything. Ultimately, it’s about pushing life further and further, and wondering who you are at the end of all of that. Everything Healy does is in service of that, and it results in one of the most memorable reads from a potent year in comics.

The Best in Class Award: The Gulf

Why it stands out: Who doesn’t love a good coming of age tale? I know I do, and this year’s slate of comics and graphic novels presented a great many options for fans of that type of story. And from that mix, one stood above the rest. That was Adam de Souza’s The Gulf. This YA graphic novel published by Tundra Books is about a trio of teens who skip out on their high school graduation to go and join a commune on a nearby island, the perilous and entertaining journey they take to get there, and the impact that’s felt by the people they left behind. It is, in many ways, a pretty classic version of the coming of age concept, albeit with de Souza’s lovely cartooning and character work elevating it throughout.

But it’s also an example of how “coming-of-age” is just a label, and how dreams can continue on after they’re dashed. The truth is, The Gulf has more emotional complexity than your typical version of one of these tales. Lessons are learned, but heads are also hard, as the book’s lead Oli proves. She’s a complex and fascinating character to follow as she negotiates a reality unlike the one she’s built up in her head. But there’s something wondrous about her as well, as she takes all of her anger and frustration with the way the world is and the way her dreams don’t match reality and works to find solutions that still work for her and her heart. And who couldn’t use a little bit of that kind of hope and resilience these days?

The funny thing about this book is despite my assertion that this is in fact a coming of age story, its own solicit labels it as an “anti-coming-of-age road trip adventure.” And maybe that’s the case. Oli and her pals Milo and Alvin don’t come of age as much as they come to terms with the way things are, finding their place with each other and the world around them. That, and how other characters like Oli’s mom and her once and future friend Liam fit in, differentiates this story from its peers, and helps it become entirely its own in the process. It’s a lovely, often unexpected work from a talent that’s on the rise.

The Transportational Award: The Jellyfish

Why it stands out: While Wally Wood was correct in asserting that there are 22 panels that always work, the ways someone can tell a story in comics borders on the infinite. Whether you’re talking layouts, camera angles, or anything else, the choices a cartoonist or creative team makes fundamentally shift the reading experience. And when you combine those decisions with the ones that happen on each additional page, the varying permutations available to someone to tell a story continue to rise. And yet, many creators stick to familiar approaches. That’s understandable. While toying with formalistic standards can be fun, there’s a reason those 22 panels and other accepted structures appeal: they always work.

That’s a big part of the reason I loved Boum’s Pow Pow graphic novel The Jellyfish so much. It does something I’ve never seen before, and does it in a way that is perfectly incorporated into the story.

The Jellyfish is about Odette, a young person figuring their life out when something unusual happens: a black jellyfish appears in their vision. Naturally, they go to the doctor to figure out what’s going on, but everyone is surprisingly casual about this. It’s just one jellyfish. There’s no cause for alarm. So, Odette continues to live their life as they work in a local bookstore and possibly find love, but then the jellyfish begin to replicate. That begins to tear their life apart. That’s the basis of the story, and it’s a tremendous foundation for tale about a young person sorting through their life as something perilous begins to happen to them.

The thing that differentiates it, though, is Boum’s choice to manifest Odette’s jellyfish onto the page itself. This ensure we are literally seeing through their eyes. One becomes two, two becomes four, and so on, and so on, and so on, until every page is a sea of black with the story continuing onwards. As this progresses, Odette’s life disintegrates under the weight of whatever is happening to them, and the cartoonist’s creative decisions reinforce all of this. It’s a stunning choice, and something that gives this book a singular feel while also transporting readers into Odette’s shoes. We don’t know what it’s like to have jellyfish interfere with our vision, but by reading this, we get some sense of it. The cartoonist’s creative choices make this book that much more powerful, and its ending that much more cathartic.

I’ll be honest: This book is stressful as hell. It isn’t necessarily for everyone, if only for that reason. But it’s a remarkable work by a cartoonist with, excuse me for this, real vision. There’s no other comic that played with the form of comics in more intriguing ways this year, and the fact that it did so solely in service of the story made it that much more special.

The Unexpected Award: The Library Mule of Córdoba

Why it stands out: Ablaze’s The Library Mule of Córdoba is a translation of the French graphic novel of the same name by writer Wilfrid Lupano and artist Leonard Chemineau. When I first saw its cover and read what it was about — three people and a terrible mule team up to save a collection of books from the world’s biggest library after a change of leadership results in an order to have every tome in said library destroyed — there was a big part of me that was turned off. In my head, this was likely to be pretty dry, as historical fiction has long been pretty hit or miss in my mind.

So, imagine my surprise when I discovered that this wasn’t just a great comic, but one of the most purely entertaining reads of the year. This reverse heist story is an ongoing getaway of pure incompetence — which, I do want to note, is more because of the humans and less because of the supposedly worst mule ever — stunned me, both because of its quality and what it proved to be. Much of that comes from Chemineau, an artist who could not have impressed me more. His cartooning is stunning, as the characters were lively, the environments were rich, and his layouts were tremendous. This book looks great, but it’s also terribly inviting to the eyes with a real clarity to its storytelling.

But as much as I want to credit Chemineau’s greatness, it was — like the success this book’s four heroes may or may not find — really the product of the team. And as much as it entertained, it was also a poignant and stunningly prescient read. Yeah, it was about a fictional story that took place during a real time. But Lupano and Chemineau don’t forget to remind readers that this kind of thing — the destruction and banning of books, but also the powers that be trying to keep knowledge from the people — is something that has happened for forever, and is continuing to happen to this day.

That’s the magic of The Library Mule of Córdoba. What seemed like it might be a dry read proved to be a wildly entertaining one, and what seemed to be a wildly entertaining read proved to be an important one with a message that will unfortunately resonate forever. That’s a rare combination, and one that its creators deliver with style.

The Entire History of You Award: The Power Fantasy

Why it stands out: Even just a surface look at The Power Fantasy — the new Image Comics series from writer Kieron Gillen, artist Caspar Wijngaard, letterer Clayton Cowles, and designer Rian Hughes — reveals why it’s built for a list like this. It finds a phenomenal and renowned creative team combining their powers to tackle an original story about superpowered beings, one that shifts the idea to something new, present, and prescient. Oh, and it’s a story told across time from a number of key perspectives, each of which gives The Power Fantasy its own flavor. Combine all that and you get something amazing.

But it’s even simpler than that, too. From a base, “Does this comic rip?” standpoint, it’s a surefire pick.

That’s because The Power Fantasy does indeed rip.

Beyond its obvious qualities and plusses, though, there’s something that I find fascinating at the heart of it. Much of that centers on Gillen himself. While I’m not saying this to discount the work of his collaborators, The Power Fantasy is terribly interesting just when you look at it as the natural product of everything Gillen has done before this. Maybe that’s true of everyone and every project they make, but it feels especially true here. It’s like Gillen had to take on every project he has, both those we know about and those we don’t, to get to this end result. You can see obvious picks ranging from Immortal X-Men and Eternals to The Wicked + The Divine and Die in its DNA, but you can also see his work as a journalist, Phonogram, and Judgment Day here. The Power Fantasy is the end product of the entire history of Gillen, with everything he’s done previously leading him to this moment — and he’s delivering.

While that’s an incredible starting point, though, it’s nothing without his teammates. Wijngaard is delivering career-best work here, and it takes a truly unique voice to make all these eras and characters come alive. Cowles brings style and substance to everything he does, but there’s a swagger here that makes it pop. And Hughes…my god, Hughes. This guy deserves an Eisner simply for the full-page indicia he was cursed to bring to life each issue. Put all that talent together and you’ll have something good. Put them together with this idea and you’ll have something great. Put them together with this Promethean (DC villain, not the Greek Titan) version of Gillen, though, and it becomes something else entirely.

If you’d like to hear more about this series, I talked with Gillen about The Power Fantasy twice this year, both on Off Panel and in a very long text interview here on SKTCHD.

The Best Recipe Award: The Strange Tales of Oscar Zahn Volume One

Why it stands out: The easiest comp for Tri Vuong’s The Strange Tales of Oscar Zahn Volume One — Ten Speed Graphic’s collection of the cartoonist’s Webtoon series — is Mike Mignola’s Hellboy. And why not? Vuong’s art here definitely has more than a little Mignola in it, and the story itself is about a paranormal investigator solving problem after problem with different confederates at his side. There’s a lot of overlap there. But what comic isn’t a little of all the things that impacted and influenced its creator(s)? The Strange Tales of Oscar Zahn is no different. But it’s also a wondrous, charming, and potent read that is more than just a recipe created from other ingredients its creator enjoys. It’s its own best recipe, an irresistible concoction that becomes something unique from a stew of familiar flavors.

It follows the titular Oscar Zahn, the aforementioned paranormal investigator, as he tries to solve problems, but often simply endeavors to not get himself killed (or as killed as an already dead being can be) as his teammates truly save the day. Whether it’s dealing with a ghost with a tragedy at its core, sorting out a disturbance on a battlefield from the past, or going deeper into the sea than is strictly advisable to resolve an anomaly within it, these plots are mere setup for examinations of the past and present of our lead and the haunted beings — both of the living and dead variety — he comes across. Pair that with the real highlight of Vuong’s skillset — his art — which endlessly wows even as he adopts slightly different styles to fit the different stories he tackles, and you have a graphic novel that sings in a real way.

That said, maybe the thing that impresses me the most about this book is how it balances tone. This book is a page turner that is alternately wildly entertaining and shockingly poignant. There’s heartbreak to each of the tales within, and while Vuong never loses the energy that makes this book such an appealing read, its ability to deliver on all levels of the emotional spectrum astounds. Vuong’s a gifted cartoonist, something he proved on Everyday Hero Machine Boy. But The Strange Tales of Oscar Zahn showcases a talent that’s something more, as Vuong reveals himself as a cartoonist with a ceiling few can touch.

The Life, Observed Award: Tokyo These Days

Why it stands out: If there’s one thing I appreciated about Taiyō Matsumoto’s three volume manga series that dropped in full this year (or at least it did in English) — although there were a great many things I appreciated about this series — it’s how it feels like the legendary mangaka almost doesn’t tell stories as much as he just sets up a camera and let’s life play out in front of our eyes. While there’s undeniably a plot — manga editor Shiozawa randomly retires from his job at a publisher only to go home and decide to put together an anthology himself, one that features his favorite talents telling the stories they want to tell in an environment that allows them to be their best selves — and things definitely happen, it’s also just like us observing its events from afar. Each chapter is simultaneously a progression of that overarching story and an isolated vignette that takes us inside someone’s life and world, and it’s a deeply intimate read because of that.

Often that person we’re spending time with is Shiozawa himself. Other times it’s the mangaka he’s working with, or former coworkers negotiating the troubled waters of talent management. No matter who the subject is, though, Matsumoto approaches them in a way that’s always honest, fair, and authentic, depicting them as humans who do things both good and bad. It isn’t produced or forced, with defined roles of hero and villain or anything of that sort. There’s an observational quality to it. Of course, there’s more to it than that. But that lens always remains, and it makes the series feel that much more unique and impactful.

Beyond that, though, maybe my favorite part of Tokyo These Days is its quietly hopeful nature. Don’t get me wrong. It’s a series that wears its sadness on its sleeve. That radiates from its pages at times. But I love how it feels like a showcase for how your job doesn’t have to be an unfortunate burden you carry. Tokyo These Days is about a man who was tired of the life he was leading, one of a churn and burn nature set in an art form he treasures, who decides one day, “What if I tried to do this better?” and then simply does that. Tokyo These Days helps us see the area of effect this type of mindset can have, as it explores the lives of the people who are changed and even lifted up by what Shiozawa sees in them. That’s a beautiful thing, and something I treasure from this lovely manga series.

The Remix Award: Marvel’s Ultimate Universe

Why it stands out: When Marvel’s new Ultimate Universe was first coming together, my fear was it’d find Marvel doing Marvel things, as they basically make it a cover of the original. The new Ultimate Universe, same as the old one, giving readers the warm and fuzzies from that old new universe they used to love. Nostalgia’s a hell of a drug, and Marvel’s an avid dealer of it.

So, imagine my surprise when they went a much different direction.

Maybe because of that, if there was one superhero line that defined 2024, it was this Ultimate Universe. Part of that is simply because this line launched at the beginning of the year, as Ultimate Spider-Man #1 arrived in January before Ultimate Black Panther, Ultimate X-Men, and Ultimates followed in that order. It was a constant throughout 2024. But its energy help establish the vibe that carried throughout this year, as it became a feeling that permeated through the highest selling works of the year, one of evil winning as pockets of resistance form around it. It’s a considerably different feel to the original line in that regard, as Ultimate 1.0 was more about simplified, blockbuster takes on familiar ideas. But different times call for different vibes, and this Ultimate universe is certainly of its time.

That isn’t why it made my list, though. It made my list because the books themselves are largely great. While there’s a range there — from Bryan Edward Hill and Stefano Caselli’s solid superhero work on Black Panther to Deniz Camp and Juan Frigeri’s incendiary Ultimates — it’s undeniable that the bulk of the creative teams are taking big swings here. I can never get enough of that. While it isn’t my favorite of the line, Peach Momoko and Zack Davisson’s Ultimate X-Men is emblematic of that. I genuinely cannot believe this comic exists. It’s bonkers, an X-Men title in name only, one that finds Momoko’s art soaring as the co-writers in Mokoko and Davisson build a haunting tale about young folks in Japan dealing with cults, having superpowers, and each other. There’s no other Marvel comic like it. And I don’t just mean currently. I mean ever.

Delightfully, each entry brings a different energy to the line too. Jonathan Hickman and Marco Checchetto’s Spider-Man is a warm sweater of pure comic book coziness (for now), Ultimates is a deeply engrossing resistance story for the Ultimate age, X-Men is completely its own thing, and Black Panther is the comparative classic approach. That’s a lot to wrangle, especially with the superstructure of The Maker’s return looming in the background. And yet, it all works, and works together. In that way, this Ultimate Universe is oddly less reminiscent of the original Ultimate line to me and more akin to 2004 to 2010 Marvel and its rare level of cohesion. It offers readers who feel jaded about the current state of the 616 a more desirous place to go. The big question, of course, is, “Can they keep it up?”

We’ll find out, but One Year In, they’ve managed to deliver.

The Inescapable Award: Vera Bushwack

Why it stands out: Let me take you through a tour of my evolving relationship with cartoonist Sig Burwash’s graphic novel Vera Bushwack. It was quite the journey.

• 10 pages in to my read: “What the hell am I reading?”
• 50 pages in: *laughing hysterically*
• 100 pages in: “What the hell am I reading?”
• 200 pages in: *sobbing*
• The conclusion of my read: “I don’t know if I’ve ever read a comic like that. I don’t know if that’ll make my list, but that certainly was something.”
• Conclusion + 1 day: “That Vera Bushwack…”
• Conclusion + 2 days: “That Vera Bushwack…”
• Conclusion + 3 days: “Okay, it has to make my list.”

Needless to say, it was a steadily evolving relationship. And if you have read this book, you probably get it. It’s pretty wild at times, and in ways that can be good — namely, the majestic sequences where its lead Drew becomes their chainsaw-mad, horse-riding alter ego in their mind and perhaps reality, to some degree, which were some of my favorite parts of any comic this year — and/or overwhelming, depending on the moment. It can be a lot to take in, even if Burwash’s art and imagination make this a difficult read to put down.

But it’s also tremendously funny at times, enlightening at others, and shockingly poignant in one particular beat later on in the book. Drew is a complex character, someone who wants to be alone and be left alone. This book is, plot-wise, about their escape to nature as they figure out a way to build themself a cabin in the middle of the woods. But they also crave human connection without the cost that can (and has come) with it. They want people to share this wild world with and a dog who will always understand them, they don’t want those things with caveats or double edged swords attached to them, and they want them for reasons that are their own. And the way Burwash slowly but surely peels back the layers in this story and helps us better understand everyone from Drew to side characters like Spoons — who, I’m not going to lie, I was massively wrong about, as was Drew — reveals a creator with great empathy for their creations and a real talent for storytelling.

My feelings about this book evolved throughout my read of it. My feelings about this book continue to evolve. But in a year filled with a wide variety of creators telling a wide variety of stories, there was only one Vera Bushwack. After reading a sea of stories, some of which reminded me of one another, that meant a lot to me. Vera Bushwack stands alone as a singular read by a singular creator, and something I’ll continue to think about well down the line. And sure, my relationship with it has been a rollercoaster. But I’m so glad it exists, and that I had the chance to read it.

Thanks for reading The SKTCHD AWRDS for my Comics of 2024. If you enjoyed what you read, consider subscribing to SKTCHD to read more like it, and to support the work that I do.