Publisher's Weekly Review
In her candid graphic memoir debut, McKenzie pays tribute to her longtime friend Charlotte, who died by suicide, sketching her memories of their relationship with loving humor. When "E and C" meet in high school in a town outside London in 1999, Emilia, whose childhood was spent being dragged along by her globe-trotting family, finds a best friend for the first time. The pair share a passion for books, movies, and mixtapes, and the outspoken, opinionated C introduces E to political activism and encourages her to start drawing diary comics. She also shows glimpses of depression and suicidal ideation. As the two grow up, they remain close even when living apart, and regularly travel together. But when C's lifelong mental health problems worsen, she's hospitalized, and then ends her own life at age 34. After C's death, E is left wondering, "If we can't, or won't, save each other... what's the point?" The funeral and wake take place only days before E's wedding, deepening her grief and sense of leaving her friend behind. McKenzie creates a scrapbook of vignettes, some brief and lighthearted, others longer and emotionally wrenching, that gradually form a moving narrative. The friendly, character-focused art, reminiscent of Roz Chast, draws the reader gently in. This restrained and resonant portrait of friendship finds meaning in small moments of connection. (Aug.)
Kirkus Review
A tender graphic memoir about the loss of a close friend. In 2018, after her friend Charlotte died at 34 following a long struggle with depression, McKenzie began making sketches of her memories of their time together. "I was worried I might forget things without having her there to remind me," she writes, clarifying that the book is not a biography of her friend but rather the story of their friendship. McKenzie and Charlotte became fast friends in high school, where they bonded over their love of music, goofy humor, passion for writing, and feminism. They were able to share challenging and intimate emotions that they found difficult to discuss with their classmates, including their struggles with mental health and feelings of alienation. "C was the first person I ever met who took an active interest in social justice," writes the author, indicating her ongoing admiration for her kind, compassionate friend. After high school, they took a memorable trip to Finland, where, despite Charlotte losing part of her toe due to an infection, they bonded and felt closer than ever. During college, however, they struggled with the distance between their two schools. McKenzie fought loneliness and anxiety, and Charlotte "was up and down" as she battled mental health issues. Eventually, they found "a new rhythm" in their relationship. "All friendships evolve," writes McKenzie, "but I reject the idea that friends should, by default become 'less important' as we get older and maybe partner up or have a family, and I know C felt the same way." The author's words and illustrations serve as a testimony to the intimacy of her friendship. The drawings simply yet effectively portray emotion, from the highs and lows of their relationship to the guilt and challenges of grieving a friend gone too soon. McKenzie offers a thoughtful, loving, and honest tribute. A poignant tapestry of love and grief for an irreplaceable friendship. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Booklist Review
A peripatetic childhood made lasting friendships difficult for McKenzie until her family moved back to the UK and she met Charlotte: "Beneath C's cool, sassy person, I found a kind, understanding friend." Their relationship evolved through college and young adulthood--even as Charlotte struggled with mental illness--until 2018, when Charlotte committed suicide. A few weeks after her death, McKenzie writes, "I started sketching memories of our friendship," which became this debut memoir. "This story isn't about C's life," she insists, "A humble comic could never do justice to who she was . . . What this is about is FRIENDSHIP." A mostly sci-fi comics maker since 2008 (publishing as Emix Regulus), McKenzie unfolds that friendship and suicide aftermath in sharp, raw, one- to several-page snippets, her line-drawn panels awash in muted single colors, her hand-lettering style underscoring the intimacy. She distills adolescent snark ("Let the judgement begin!"), serendipitous discovery (Roz Chast's Can't We Talk about Something More Pleasant? as inspiration to make an autobiographical comic), significant concern ("It's like my brain is broken"), and a survivor's longing ("I'll miss you forever").
