The Nice House On The Lake #3: I Hold With Those Who Favor Fir

This is the kind of story that makes me regret the fact that comics are released sequentially. The premise is that a group of friends finds themselves trapped, by someone who claims to love them, in someplace very much like paradise, at the literal end of the world. This setup allows for a perfect balance of humor, absurdity, character development, and abject terror. The terror comes in three flavors: interpersonal, existential, and cosmic.

In terms of existential drama, each issue is introduced by a member of the house at the end of all things, whose perspective provides both a lens for understanding the apocalypse and also insight into the people who have been ‘chosen’ as survivors. This issue focuses on the singular adventures of Sam, codenamed ‘The Reporter.’ He was, indeed, a reporter before the world fell apart, and he is connected to the others through the auspices of Walter, a man/creature whom he knew from high school. Sam provides the context of his own role in the group (that of a reluctant fixer) and insight into his loves (his friends and boyfriend) his fears (his own insignificance) and his deficiencies: he’s so blind to women that they literally do not exist for him as people. 

Sam has particular, important, insight into the character of the creature (once his friend) who both saved them from annihilation and is holding them all captive. 

Existential terror surfaces in the ways that the other members of the group are coping — or failing to cope. Some are taking stock, others are desperately trying to discover the fates of their families (more on that in a bit) and others have decided to just…sit back, drink a Mai Tai, and enjoy the fireworks. The effect is that of a desert island story: a tale of survival in near-total isolation. What happens to your mind when you know that you are alone? 

The question of love surfaces again and again. A cis woman falls in love with someone who later comes out as trans and they find themselves together, here. A man awkwardly hugs his ex. A husband and wife team up and attempt to take charge. While someone who claimed to be a friend (who still claims that he loves them) has literally set the world alight, so close that ashes dust their hair. What is love, exactly? What does it mean?

The presence of a trans woman, one who is both misgendered and outed without her consent, but largely treated with respect, is refreshing. So far, her transness has not been depicted as anything more alarming than the color of one character’s hair, or the fact that two others are married. It’s just a fact. And the incidence of misgendering seems intended to add a sense of unfortunate verisimilitude rather than something that’s been put in as an act of authorial malice. 

The Cosmic terror seeping through the cracks in the placid surfaces of this book is, for me, the best part. What can your rational mind do with a statue that, when touched, shows you the melted corpses of your family as they fuse into something else? What do you do when you see you dead best friend appear beside you with half his face blown off? 

These characters look their terror in the face and decide to watch a Disney movie. 

There’s a beautiful, horrific absurdity to that. I want more of it.

The art is ravishing. In every sense of the word. There are two definitions that can apply to the word ‘ravish’: a) to seize and take away by violence or b) to overcome with emotion (such as joy or delight). I’m not usually big on plopping OED definitions into comics reviews, but there is a terrible poetry to Álvaro Martínez Bueno’s art. The horror isn’t an abstraction: it’s an acid. Touch it, and feel as though your skin’s sloughed off. 

This story is a revelation.