Broken Frontier

One thing you’ll notice about the collections and graphic novels produced by independent publisher NBM is that their back covers don’t feature blurbs from Newsarama or CBR or even Broken Frontier. Instead, NBM quotes Booklist, the School Library Journal, and the Boston Globe, amongst other elite publications as its notable reviewers.

This doesn’t make them better than, say, Marvel or DC or Image. It just makes them different.

NBM targets a different demographic than the mainstream publishers. They’re trying to tickle a different nerve. Some might say they take a more intellectual approach to publishing, eschewing the archetypal superhero for intense character-driven plots, impressionist artistic styles, and a line of sight on everything comics that is not Marvel or DC. I’d be hard-pressed to name a more prolific or diverse publisher of OGNs. Having said that, some of their books are hit or miss with me.

All of them seem to make me think or teach me something about the craft of comics.

Hubert and Kerascoet’s Miss Don’t Touch Me Volume Two is an offering from NBM’s ComicsLit imprint that fell just short of the mark for me. Much of this is due to the translation of Hubert’s dialogue from French to English. I’m fluent enough in French to have worked in translation for a couple of years and I noticed a subtle choppiness in the cadence of the English dialogue. Something was missing in the rhythm – a beat here and there that proved distracting and cast the dialogue in an obtuse light. Every other utterance felt like an announcement.

Thankfully, Hubert’s rich character development wasn’t lost in translation, thanks in large part to Kerascoet’s simple, stylish artwork. Each panel is packed full of lush detail, without feeling overcrowded or heavy and captures the decadence of urban French culture at the turn of the twentieth century with frank expressiveness. Each character is distinct and well-defined, the husband and wife team’s spare cartoonish figures somehow managing to emote with a surprising intensity.

Following Hubert’s heroine Blanche as she navigates blindly through the cutthroat underbelly of the French elite felt almost voyeuristic, her status as the city’s most sought after dominatrix both a blessing and ultimately a curse. Betrayed by friends and family alike, Blanche’s fate isn’t a kind one, even if she faces each obstacle in her path with deceptive strength and resolve. Her fall from grace, while sad to watch, is still fascinating to witness and only leaves me wondering what the next chapter of her life will hold for Miss Don’t Touch Me.

Hindered somewhat by the obvious, choppy dialogue, Miss Don’t Touch Me was still a refreshing change of pace from typical North American comic book fare – a cleansing of the palate, so to speak. Like French cuisine, Hubert and Kerascoet’s Miss Don’t Touch Me is rich and full and decadent. The devil is in the details, though. The next time I’m in Montreal, I’ll pick up the original French publication and experience Hubert’s wonderfully realized heroine as she was meant to be experienced – en français.