The debut issue of Grommets was, to lean into the nomenclature, totally radical. Writers Rick Remender and Brian Posehn nailed a mix between aw-shucks nostalgia and this sassy slice of life in celebrating both punk rock and skating. Meanwhile, artist Brett Parson and colorist Moreno Dinisio injected the world with so much energy and vintage goodness that we felt like it really was 1985 all over again.
This second issue is very much the perfect kind of follow-up, and a subtle but effective step forward for this rather promising new book.
On the surface, Remender and Posehn have leaned into a kind of done-in-one approach with some focus on an overarching narrative. In this issue of Grommets, burgeoning buddies Rick and Brian get Taco Bell (Parson and Dinisio nailed the vintage appearance in a way that made me nearly OD on nostalgia) and get to skate around town with a clique called The Jens. And…that’s really it. Yeah, there’s sweet skate tricks and vengeful rednecks, but the whole scope is meant to stay as close to the ground as possible.
It’s the dumb stuff all teenagers do on a holiday or weekend. And the art team mirrors that whole process expertly by giving us little nougats — dinosaur bones in a car park, or Rick’s own pop culture-packed room — that makes the world so fun, free, and breezy. It’s about bringing us into this fully-fleshed version of ’80s Sacramento and letting us rejoice in the sheer haze of shag haircuts, Suicidal Tendencies tees, Jane Fonda workouts, and the warmth of an era that clung to some vestige of Americana glory days.
At the same time, though, the creators are very much interested in showing us the “dangers” of nostalgia, and what really rested under that vintage Taco Bell veneer. We start with a reminder that 1985 was still smack dab in the Cold War, and that “whisper” helped inform the undertones and slightly buried threads that have begun to increasingly inform this book. It’s Brian’s family life, and how we’re not sure what’s going on there. The way Rick’s family life seems to have gotten better after his dad’s personal issues, and yet how we can’t fully believe if everything’s as Leave it to Beaver as intended. The aforementioned rednecks and what they represent. Even some bonkers stuff with one of the Jens.
Main cover by Brett Parson. Courtesy of Image Comics.
The art supports this unsung approach with grace, giving us darting glances and just this wealth of humanity that fully colors all of that day-glo nostalgia and NorCal disposition. We’re allowed to start seeing what this world really is, and how all the burritos and Sex Wax can’t make up for some real issues these kids face. And yet it’s done in such a way that we don’t have to feel like we’re being bashed over the head with some message or commentary about the real dangers of overt nostalgia. It’s all about inviting us in to enjoy this world for all its high highs and low lows.
But the question begs: what’s the real point of this book then? Is it just a love letter to a childhood spent listening to Bad Brains and trying to ollie? Is it about our relationship to trauma, and how we obfuscate real life pain with perceive whimsy? Is it a commentary on the real face of the ’80s? Maybe how our own time mirrors this era to such a scary degree (i.e., a surge in conservative politics; latchkey, nihilistic kids; and a reckoning with capitalism — time’s a flat circle, folks).
I think it’s all of that for sure, but there’s a little more still. The creators seem mostly interested in getting us to see the larger scope of these ideas and themes, and to recognize that as much as we carry good things from the past, we must also carry heaps of baggage. That, and longing for the “good old days” also means reconciling with how it changed us in other, more painful ways. In short, a refreshing vision of nostalgia and how we have to reconcile with our past, present, and future in a continuous and cohesive manner.
Variant cover by Alex Riegel. Courtesy of Image Comics.
I also think some of those ideas address or touch on another important thread of Grommets emerging after issue #2: violence. Specifically, there’s heaps of it in this chapter, and whether it’s brain-ing a security guard with a board or nasty head wounds from crashing mid-skate trick, there’s so much blood. And I think that whole approach serves one of two functions. One is that all that rose-colored romanticism of jazzercising and 29 cent tacos needs to be balanced out further, and all this physicality and madness is a way to do that to really get people thinking about the past.
Two, I think maybe it could be slightly exaggerated, as if we’re viewing it through the kids’ eyes. And if that’s the case, then, it’s just another layer to tackling those ideas of trauma and the terrors of growing up and how we grapple with the past to manage our current day. Maybe it’s even both! Either way, it’s a really powerful device that has Grommets exploring some big emotional terrain and delving into politics, childhood development, and the true beating heart of America in some really interesting ways.
Was this issue of Grommets as immediately dazzling and pleasing to my inner punk rock nerd? Not quite, although I did appreciate the distinct lack of Rush slander this time around. Rather, I think Grommets is gaining speed down some extra gnarly hill to try and get to a place where it can tell this deeply effective story.
A story that’s as obviously charming as it is hard and grating, silly as much as it is sincere, and direct as much as there’s some real skeletons in the closet to explore. A story with more layers than a Taco Bell tostada, and one I’m enjoying more and more with every new bite.
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