Broken Frontier

C.B. Cebulski’s confessionary comic takes its readers through the romantic struggles of a boy becoming a man in the late eighties.

In six chapters C.B. Cebulski shows anyone willing to pick it up why this steeply priced comic is worth every penny. Clearly, this is a writer with a revealing nature. In these sixty-four pages he holds nothing back, extrapolating on odd sexual encounters, idiotic slips of his hormone heavy and drugged up tongue, and nights spent drinking, cheating, and living as a teen in the late eighties.

As a high school teacher I can see clearly that Cebulski is leaving nothing out in the telling of his story. As anyone of us who pays attention to our students knows, there isn’t a single one of them in the bunch who is an angel. They aren’t supposed to be. That’s why they are teenagers. Like a teen, Cebulski is unapologetic in these snapshots of his romantic life. Neither is he trying to explain why he was drinking and driving in a snowstorm at one point, or why he did whip-its, or why he cheated on any number of girlfriends he cheated on. He shouldn’t have to. He isn’t looking for us to validate his behavior. He is simply telling us what it was like for him growing up. In doing that, he has told one heck of a story.

Frankly, this should be clear from the laundry list of amazing artists whose names grace the cover. Paul Azaceta, Juan Castro, Jonathan Luna, Martin Montiel, Khoi Pham, Alina Urusov, and Ethan Young are all excellent artists with distinct looks appropriate for each chapter of the book. The styles range from Azaceta’s simple, heavy, dark lines in the first chapter titled "Break Up" to Alina Urusov’s kinetic, stylized, animation-like look in chapter three, "Hook Up." It is nothing short of excellence that all of these different artistic interpretations work well together, because they shouldn’t. They are like nacho cheese and chocolate, great tastes that don’t taste great together. But because of the theme of each particular chapter, and what I can only assume was a mixture of luck and understanding of his own stories, the artists Cebulski managed to snag for this book work so well as one piece that I want to try some chocolate covered nacho cheese.

But despite all my praise, Wonderlost may not be for everybody. Cebulski withholds nothing, telling how he learned to love. He comes off as everything from an idiot to a jerk to a loser. But more than any of that, he comes off as a kid trying to figure it all out. He tells the story of his life as it happened—all the underage drinking, sex, and rock & roll that a good chunk of teenagers’ lives entail. If you don’t want to read about that, then don’t pick it up. But I recommend it because Wonderlost’s power is in its honesty.