3 out of 5

A post-apocalyptic-esque world of rotting nature and zombie animals is… right up my alley. Unfortunately, Daystar lands in a kind of uncomfortable middleground between Matt Emmons oblique storytelling and Aaron Losty’s more raw style, giving this tale a loping pace and visuals that get the story across, but kind of miss on mood.

Fittingly, the opening chapter and a half or so of Daystar is its sweet spot – because it’s wordless. This isn’t a direct criticism of either Emmons or Losty, with both credited as creators and Losty on story, but Matt has done quite a bit of wordless work very much in this vein, and though I’m admittedly less familiar with Aaron’s work, that which I’ve sampled suggests a preference for somewhat barebones interactions – one-on-one back and forths – and with a visual extremeness that has a kind of parallel with Emmons often oblique way of visually narrating. Dot dot dot – they are similar but different, and a good way to make those similarities sync is found in Daystar’s wordless opening, during which we’re introduced to a rat couple, going about their lives in nature (or abandoned buildings; machinery) before a cataclysmic event… or two, actually, one “natural” and one from beyond: a meteor crash. This crash precipitates a change in all of the animals, causing rot-like mutations and, naturally, the ability to talk.

Things are clunky from hereon out. Emmons has proven great at drawing animals – and getting emotions from them – in other works, but there are some pretty big asks in this book that are hard to fit in to the visual style, and maybe just don’t interpret well without some further context. Like, I guess our lead rat is living with a pregnant squirrel after the meteor crash, and it’s not that Emmons doesn’t draw a convincing pregnant squirrel, but it’s just a sudden jump from two rats frolicking in nature to the other image, which is cluttered up by all of the grass and dirt and ephemera that has to be drawn into the settings. …That’s where the “visual style” comes into play: these are pretty dense pages, and all furred- or many-legged critters with lots of linework, and Emmons’ chunky inking line can make that denseness not read cleanly on the undersized printing. Additionally, the limitation of colors – using a palette of yellows and pinks, perhaps limited from the printing method – prevents using that as a way to differentiate between creatures and foregrounds and backgrounds. To be clear: the art is good, but the format and printing don’t help it to flow.

We then combine Emmons’ method of zooming in on certain details with a narrative that’s kind of cutting between Lynchian dream-like dialogue and Cronenberg body horror, and while that sounds great, the stitching between the styles is not seamless. As such, the story never quite gets going. From afar, I sincerely love the story beats – the concept is haunting, as it twists a Walking Dead / Crossed-style story into an anthropomorphic one, but seats the lore somewhere beyond the page so we can focus on our rat’s plight – but up close, I was often not quite sure what the intended focus or emotional takeaway was intended to be. It’s witnessing a version of the story from the sidelines, yet to be edited into a beginning / middle / end.

Daystar is an appealing indie GN, and I’d think offers up worth for fans of either involved creator, but there’s an expanded version of this story that I’d think carries much greater impact.