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Naming Monsters
With… deliciously unsettling details and the throbbing of her stacked, crosshatched lines shading images to the look of molded pewter, Eaton shows a great familiarity with the terrain of dread.
One image—terrifying and almost totemic in its simplicity—shows Fran in a barren room, facing a darkly opening door.
Near the end of the story, a pair of powerful nightmare sequences feels cut from the same cloth as the darker parts of David Lynch’s works—striking visuals, hauntingly concise language, and incantatory pacing.
Yet cutting through the darkness and dysfunction are humor and hope.
Eaton has a great ear for dialogue, and the Punch-and-Judy faces of her smaller figures have a folk charm befitting the work.
Things spread a bit thin with the story ranging over teen angst, grief, wild grandmas, classism, drugs, divorce, explicit sexual awakening, pop culture, and the possibly supernatural, but an open heart anchors the work.
A warmly off-kilter coming-of-age story that evokes more than it explains.
Naming Monsters
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