Unsettling + beautiful: Kate Brown's Fish + Chocolate

Comics review.

Fish+ Chocolate

Kate Brown

SelfMadeHero, 128pp, £14.99

Fish + Chocolate is unsettling. Part of the reason I feel that way might be the route I have taken through the work of Kate Brown, the creator of this collection of three short stories. The majority of Brown's work to date has been for the all-ages comics the DFC and its spiritual successor the Phoenix, where she created adventure stories with a slightly darker twist than most work for children. Spider Moon, serialised in the DFC Weekly, was cruelly cut short by the cancellation of its parent title, and only reached the end of the first of an intended five-volume run, but the Lost Boy, about a shipwrecked young boy and his lemur, launched with more achievable aims, and finished its 35 episode run last August. (Owing to the impressive tautness of the Phoenix, those 35 episodes only amount to 70 pages)

The Lost Boy was one of the slower stories in the first six months of the Phoenix, taking too long to subvert the boy-goes-on-treasure-hunt plot with the menace of the islands other inhabitants. Those shadowy figures would become the focus of the story, but I fear by the time Brown played her hand, the immediate thrill of Daniel Hartwell and Neill Cameron's Pirates of Pangaea may have proved more seductive. (The latter also had pirates and dinosaurs, basically rendering it eight-year-old kryptonite)

What the Lost Boy really had going for it, though, was Brown's art. Expressive characters — well, character — and beautiful foliage (it's a niche talent, but it's a talent nonetheless) combined with her keen understanding of the ability of the palette of a work to set the mood to instantly evoke the tropical paradise her hero was stuck on. That's an important skill, given the constrained space she had to work in.

In Fish + Chocolate, we get to see Brown in the exact opposite mode. Where Spider Moon was for all ages, the three short stories contained here are emphatically adult in tone, and one is fairly explicit to boot. And where the Lost Boy was compressed down into just two pages an episode, these are decompressed, allowing her art and characters room to breath.

The best of the shorts is the opening one, "the Piper Man". It's a loose retelling of the Pied Piper of Hamelin, set in the modern day with a single mum and her two kids. We all know the ending of the fable; but we also all know the stereotype of the creepy weirdo who plays with other people's children. It's a stereotype that many—including the mother in the story—aren't quite comfortable with, but who's going to be the one to let their principles get in the way of their children's safety? And so the conflict isn't just between the mother and her kids. It's also an internal one, as she tries to summon up the courage to keep the piper man away for good.

"The Cherry Tree" doesn't wear its plot on its sleeve in the same way. It still concerns the relationship of a mother and her child (as do all three stories in the book) and in the end, tragedy ensues all the same. But the menace here is entirely conveyed through tone and setting. Prisca and her mother have moved into a new house with a cherry tree in the garden, which, both passively and actively, enters the daughter's live. But Prisca is left to her own devices, and the negligence takes its toll.

Both Cherry Tree and Piper Man also use the same mastery of colouring that Brown demonstrated in Lost Boy to great effect. As the stories go on, and menace creeps in, the colour slowly drains from the palette. The difference, when you look back and forth, is stark; but you barely notice it when reading through. The similarities also demonstrate attention to the placing of the two stories in the book. In Piper Man, the menace is explicit, and the desaturation serves to emphasise that, but by Cherry Tree, the same effect is already mentally associated with menace. The pages thus unsettle, without any good reason why. Until the end of that story, that is. That pattern is subverted in the final story, Matroyshka, which begins desaturated after tragedy has already occurred. It's a gut-wrenching depiction of mental illness, but ultimately a hopeful one as well.

Fish + Chocolate is the work of a phenomenally talented author. Were it not frequently wordless, it would be called "literary"; were they not telling stories, the images alone would be art. Instead, it's just damn good comics.

Fish + Chocolate is the work of a phenomenally talented author.

Alex Hern is a technology reporter for the Guardian. He was formerly staff writer at the New Statesman. You should follow Alex on Twitter.

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Former MP Bob Marshall-Andrews: Why I’m leaving Labour and joining the Lib Dems

A former political ally of Jeremy Corbyn explains why he is leaving Labour after nearly 50 years.

I’m leaving home. It’s a very hard thing to do. All of my natural allegiances have been to Labour, and never had I contemplated leaving the party – not even in the gloomy years, when we were fighting Iraq and the battles over civil liberties. I have always taken the view that it’s far better to stay within it. But it has just gone too far. There has been a total failure to identify the major issues of our age.

The related problems of the environment, globalisation and the migration of impoverished people are almost ignored in favour of the renationalisation of the railways and mantras about the National Health Service. The assertion that Labour could run the NHS better than the Tories may be true, but it is not the battle hymn of a modern republic. It is at best well-meaning, at worst threadbare. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life talking about renationalising the railways while millions of people move across the world because of famine, war and climate change.

The centre left in British politics is in retreat, and the demise of the Labour Party has the grim inevitability of a Shakespearean tragedy. Ironically, history will show that Labour’s fatal flaw lay in its spectacular success.

Labour is, in essence, a party of the 20th century, and in those 100 years it did more to advance the freedom and well-being of working people and the disadvantaged than any other political movement in history. The aspirations of the founding fathers – access to education, health and welfare; equality before the law; collective organisation; universal franchise – have all to a large extent been achieved. The party’s record of racial and religious tolerance has been a beacon in a century of repression. These achievements have been enshrined in the fabric of British society and reproduced across the world.

The success brought deserved, unprecedented power and created political fortresses across the industrial heartlands of Britain. But with power, the party became increasingly moribund and corrupt. The manipulation of the union block vote at party conferences became a national disgrace. The Labour heartlands, particularly Scotland, were treated like rotten boroughs, and were too often represented by union placemen.

Instead of seeking a new radicalism appropriate to the challenges of the age, New Labour sought to ambush the Tories on the management of market capital and to outflank them on law and order: a fool’s errand. It inevitably succumbed to another form of corruption based on hubris and deceit, resulting in attacks on civil liberty, financial disaster and catastrophic war.

The reaction has been to lurch back to the status quo. The extraordinary fall from a massive majority of 179 in 1997 to a political basket case has been blamed on the false dichotomy between Blairism and the old, unionised Labour. Both have contributed to the disaster in equal measure.

I believe desperately in the politics of the 21st century, and Labour is at best paying lip service to it – epitomised in its failure to engage in the Brexit debate, which I was horrified by. The Liberal Democrats are far from perfect, but they have been consistent on Europe, as they were in their opposition to the Iraq War and on civil liberties. They deserve support.

But it’s a serious wrench. I’m leaving friends, and it hurts. Jeremy Corbyn was a political ally of mine on a number of serious issues. We made common cause on Tony Blair’s assaults on civil liberty and the Iraq War, and we went to Gaza together. He has many of the right ideas, but he simply has not moved into addressing the major problems.

To be blunt, I don’t think Corbyn is leadership material, but that is aside from politics. You need skills as a leader, and I don’t think he’s got them, but I was prepared to stick it out to see what happened. It has been a great, gradual disappointment, and Brexit has brought it all to the fore.

Frankly, I was surprised that he announced he was a Remainer, because I know that his natural sympathies have lain with a small cadre within Labour – an old-fashioned cadre that holds that any form of trade bloc among relatively wealthy nations is an abhorrence. It’s not: it’s the way forward. Yet there are people who believe that, and I know he has always been sympathetic to them.

But by signing up and then doing nothing, you sell the pass. Labour was uniquely qualified to confront the deliberate falsehoods trumpeted about the NHS – the absurd claims of massive financial dividends to offset the loss of doctors
and nurses already packing their bags – and it failed. Throughout that campaign, the Labour leadership was invisible, or worse.

At present, there is a huge vacuum on the centre left, represented in substantial part by an angry 48 per cent of the electorate who rejected Brexit and the lies on which it was based. Politics, like nature, abhors a vacuum. There is no sign from Labour that the issue is even to be addressed, let alone actively campaigned on. The Labour leadership has signed up to Brexit and, in doing so, rejected the principles of international co-operation that Europe has fostered for half a century. That is not a place I want to be.

The failure to work with, or even acknowledge, other political parties is doctrinaire lunacy. And it will end very badly, I think. The centre left has an obligation to coalesce, and to renege on that obligation is reneging on responsibility. Not to sit on the same platform as other parties during the Brexit debate is an absurd statement of political purity, which has no place at all in modern politics.

The Liberal Democrats have grasped the political challenges of the 21st century as surely as their predecessors in the Liberal Party failed to comprehend those that faced the world a century ago. For that reason, I will sign up and do my best to lend support in my political dotage. After nearly 50 years as a Labour man, I do so with a heavy heart – but at least with some radical hope for my grandchildren.

Bob Marshall-Andrews was the Labour MP for Medway from 1997 to 2010.

As told to Anoosh Chakelian.

This article first appeared in the 27 April 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Cool Britannia 20 Years On

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