Join a huge cast including angry space techs, anxious energy workers, obsequious ramen robots, suspicious arcade owners, snack-driven vat-grown bears and correspondence school druids in this backstage adventure aboard a malfunctioning flying space rock. Grass of Parnassus is the legendary Immonens (RUSSIAN OLIVE TO RED KING, MOVING PICTURES, HELLCAT, STAR WARS) at their breakneck best.
Vignettes of life on a spaceship where nothing works and everything costs, with any plot there may be far from the surface, but plenty of interest there given all the snack-hungry astronaut bears, psychotropic cats in the vents, and attempts by the family who invented the fork to recapture that new cutlery magic. The drifting weirdness makes it feel a lot like the Immonens doing Brandon Graham, though you could equally call it Stuart revisiting the oddity of his Nextwave days, except minus all the violence. Equally, there were times when they really used the unusual format to tell the story with design as much as art when I remembered how Jesse Lonergan's Hedra depicted spaceflight, and that's not something of which I'm reminded often. The format, it turns out, being an artefact of this initially getting serialised on Instagram, though I read the gorgeously overproduced, sideways physical edition as one of my occasional gestures in 'Comic shops are having a tough decade - I shall do my bit and selflessly splash out on something daft!'
I read I don’t know now how much of this as it was originally serialized on Instagram, but am perfectly happy to have this physical copy now. I loved it then and love it even more now. Confession time: I have been a huge fan of Stuart Immonen since his ‘90s Superman days (which are still ridiculously underrated). He split off at the turn of the millennium, started working at Marvel, and then began collaborating with his wife Kathryn on independent projects. These are turning out to be my favorite Immonen things. Grass of Parnassus is basically the sci-fi story I always desperately wanted, just a slice-of-life mosey that allows us to see the future as casually as we experience the present, even as the Immonens populate it with all manner of crazy elements. The thing I like best about the Star Wars prequels/sequels (both trilogies, to be clear) is that they slip in so much of this. So the Immonens are kind of working in that tradition. It’s not crazy to think it might’ve been a source of inspiration. Stuart, after all, did his highest-ever-profile work in Star Wars comics. I never really got into Stuart’s Marvel work (although, outside of these collaborations Marvel is the only real experience I have with Kathryn’s writing), so it’s great I have these opportunities to continue enjoying his later material. He remains a real treasure in the medium.
The boom of Substack launches and the new DC content on Webtoon have challenged a lot of preconceived notions about who benefits from taking their creator-owned comics to the internet, but comics have been online for years. Even big-name creators with established careers have used social media to both build their audience and feature their work, and some have begun moving away from the industry’s heavy reliance on publishers and centralized distribution methods. But back in 2018, when Kathryn and Stuart Immonen began posting Grass Of Parnassus on a dedicated Instagram account, it felt remarkable.
The Immonens are hardly newcomers to comics, both widely celebrated for their skills with creator-owned and IP work. When Parnassus began, it had been three years since their remarkable Russian Olive To Red King was published, and getting free content from creators of their caliber was a special delight. And now, the Instagram account containing this new work is no longer active, because Grass Of Parnassus has been collected into a book; fans of either—or both—Immonens should pick it up immediately.
It can be hard to translate a comic that was intentionally designed for digital consumption into a print volume, but a combination of the Immonens’ skill and careful planning has made the book a delight to read. The vast majority of the panels are square and presented two to a page, and the comedic beats hit with perfect percussive rhythm. It’s a lot like a printed collection of a newspaper comic strip: Each day’s update is self-contained and given space to breathe, but also linking to the next as the page turns.
The format is well suited for the type of story the Immonens set out to tell in Grass Of Parnassus, a sprawling series of vignettes that are linked by proximity to each other and the titular spaceship. It’s not so much a space opera as a space clip show, flitting rapidly between connected but distinct stories and giving readers a glimpse into the disparate lives of the people who come into contact with the Grass Of Parnassus and its occupants. The result is a feeling of sudden intimacy without a lot of detail, a dizzying and wonderful ride with incredible visual humour.
Stuart Immonen’s immense skill as an artist is on full display as readers are introduced to the cast that populates the world. The designs for both the characters and the ship itself are lively and walk a fine line between familiar and strikingly original. Thankfully, some very robust back matter from both Immonens shows the process Stuart employed to create many of the most fantastical elements of the book, giving readers insight into a collaborative and joyful creative process. The colours are bright and enchanting, and the book as a whole is a visual delight: It’s a pop-art approach to cyberpunk and post-cyberpunk stories, easy to imagine in the background of The Fifth Element or Cowboy Bebop.
But what makes Grass Of Parnassus truly great is how funny it is. Visual gags are scattered throughout the book (it’s a masterclass in how to tell a hilarious story without letting text get in the way), but the dialogue is packed with jokes, too. They’re two very different books, but Grass Of Parnassus and Russian Olive To Red King feel very much linked, a conversation had by the creators with each other and shared with the reader. While the latter plumbs emotional and philosophical depths of individual grief with unerring precision, the former displays the limitless capacity for ridiculousness and the wide varieties of humanity with bursts of colour and laughter. Both are must-read books from one of the best creative teams in comics.
Interessanter Slice-of-life Comic, der ausschnittsweise und episodenhaft von verschiedene Figuren auf einem Spaceship erzählt. Ursprünglich bei Instagram erschienen und mit dem Medium und seinem quadratischen Format experimentiert. Die Zeichnungen und Farben sind der definitive Grund den Band zu lesen. Optisch ein Highlight, bietet die Story für mich leider nicht mehr als immer mal wieder schöne oder lustige Szenen mit teilweise abstrusen Figuren. Eine übergeordnete Handlung hat mir hier gefehlt, auch wenn es immer mal wieder Verknüpfungen gab. Das Hardcover ist wunderschön aufgemacht und bietet viele Bonusinhalte. Ein Freund vom Querformat werde ich aber nicht mehr.
No, really, I mean it, literally a trip, through both the gonzo cosmos, as well as deep in guts of the Grass of Parnassus (the titular Mesa-cum-Spaceship) itself.
Don't expect a clean narrative thread - this reads more like absurdist poetry, with phantom limbs, Marxist twins, sentient bears, mail-order-druids and all manners of human-ish working stiffs flow dream-like in and out of the Immonem's comic-lens. It's great stuff, if a little perplexing at times, reading a bit like one continuous entry in a dream-journal. I could use a little more meat in terms of poignancy, I don't know if there was ever any real emotion impact outside of a half smirk at the whiz-bang imagination of it all. Worth a read, though, and the packaging for the physical book, along with all the extra materials highlighting the creative process, is well worth the MSRP.
A little conflicted on this. The "story" of Grass of Parnassus is confusing and a hard to follow, probably largely in part due to it having been an Instagram comic. Book editions of narrative webcomics never really click with me, and if I had known ahead of time this was originally published in Instagram, I probably would have skipped it. However, I am a HUGE fan of process. Essentially, Grass of Parnassus is a glimpse into the working hours of the various beings that keep a spaceship running. Imagine a dreamy Frederick Wiseman documentary set in color-saturated space seasoned with some intimate and personal dialogues. The extras in the back showing the Immonens' inspirations, reference photos, scripts, and sketches really do clarify that this comic truly did spring forth from images and vibes rather than a coherent story. Additionally, the art and color work is absolutely gorgeous. So if you're happy to take in vibes and atmosphere sans character-driven plot, you might enjoy this. -Patron E.M.
Okay... the rating might be a little aggressive, but I have reasons. This thing is mostly art, but doesn't have much else going for it. So it gets a passing grade. But the story it tries to tell is scattered (I understand by design). This doesn't help it, because the narrative is also scattered (within each story), and confusing. I'm sure its some sort of abstract inside joke-like comedic style, but it was completely lost on me. I feel let down by the content based on my experience with the creators' other works. This was interesting to look at, but painful to read. I tried to struggle on, hoping the narrative would become cohesive but it never did. Maybe its my fault for not doing more research on this before I got it, but hot dang this thing was a smoking train wreck from start to finish. Pretty though.
So this was weird, and wild, and I'm not entirely sure what to think of it.. It's very disjointed, but that's part of the whole concept. It's a series of vignettes taking place on and around a malfunctioning spaceship. Lots of characters just hashing it out, without any real point to it. Some of it is very funny, a lot of it is just utterly absurd, to the point where I didn't really understand what I was reading. All in all, it's quite fun, and utterly gorgeous, but it feels unfinished. There's all these loose story threads, all these beginnings with no ends. And again, I think that's kind of the point, but it makes for kind of a frustrating experience imo
This is a gorgeous book with a story that might not make any sense. Originally an experiment in publishing comics to Instagram utilizing their carousel feature, Grass of Parnassus is a series of vignettes set (primarily) on a space ship.
The artwork is stunning, and all the little stories are intriguing and hint at a much larger world. However, the reader is never treated to a clear overall picture or throughline. There might be a singular message hidden somewhere among some symbolism, metaphor, and personal in-jokes, but I don't know what it is. The backmatter suggests some origins of the story, but is mostly sketches and handwritten drafts of the script.
Flaws aside, this is a great-looking book inside and out, and the bizarre stories are a lot of fun.
Weird, wonderful, absurdist sci fi, and hands down my favourite comic. Stunning art, eminently quotable dialogue (existentialist The Office in space?), downstairs workers on a flying space rock, love, queer joy, fish, and a disembodied arm.
If you enjoyed the comic when it originally appeared on Instagram, it translates beautifully to print, and there’s about 50 pages of extra content, including sketches and process notes.
Weird little thing. I remember some of it from when it was just a instagram comic. I really dig the weirdo Spaceship slice of life. Also the build of the collection is unparalleled. It's a stunning work.
A pretty terrible reading experience and frankly I should’ve DNF’d it. Seems to aim to make no sense at all, and I guess it achieved that. I didn’t read the long making-of section, because by that point I was well and truly done with this nonsense.
Beautiful, bizarre, and nonsensical. Visually a masterpiece and so fun. Plot? Nope. I wish I could have seen it on Instagram and what that did for the story telling. Feels built for a different medium.
I feel like I was missing something --- like those that read it on IG had an upper hand somehow. The art is beautiful but I wasn't sure what was happening in the story.
Stunning art but the story feels like endless, disconnected riffs. You hit a point where it feels silly to care about it and I felt inclined to just flip through for the art.