When we spoke in late 2024, Sebastian Girner had a lot going on with Goats Flying Press. There was the extra dark fantasy of The Dead and The Damned; Juni Ba’s excellent The Fables of Erlking Wood; and a suite of other coming titles, including Lake Yellowwood Slaughter.
But while we only made just one extra meager reference to The Consumption, it may be one of GFP’s most effective and dazzling releases to date.
Here, Girner serves as writer alongside artist Jack Mandrake and letterer/designer Jeff Powell. Without revealing too much of The Consumption‘s utterly bonkers narrative, an unnamed man wakes up hundreds of years into an alien invasion, where his former A.I. financial adviser has merged with his body in order to bring about the return of capitalism. Oh, and there’s more body horror than stupid ideas in Elon Musk’s personal diary.
Courtesy of Goats Flying Press.
What makes The Consumption so effective is that it is both an exercise in restraint and also this wild and maddening expression of humanity amid the End Times. And, more often than not, those very “approaches” merge in different and varied ways, and we ultimately get is a story that feels like it’s alive in the best/most ugly ways possible.
Perhaps the most “heavy-handed” aspect of The Consumption is Girner’s own satirical efforts. There’s absolutely no hiding the fact that this is a razor-sharp condemnation of late-stage capitalism, feckless A.I. technology, botched environmentalism, and a general dissolution of decency amid the modern era (based on all that other stuff, duh). But Girner totally nails the lingo and the general and horrifying vibes of our day and age, and nothing ever feels so overwhelmingly forced or convoluted. He knows exactly how to talk about credit debt and ROI to drive home the insanity of our current financial systems and needless complications in a way that’s genuinely fun.
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There’s just enough exaggeration that we see how stupid and bizarre things truly are without anything ever feeling overly divorced from the real psychic pain that these systems/practices generate right now. And in that way, it’s absolutely refreshing satire that assumes a level of awareness/understanding, but never does too much to hold our hands or bash us in the face. Rather, we’re allowed to feel the weight of these ideas as both an intellectual exercise and just damn good storytelling.
You get a lot of those same ideas/energies in Mandrake’s art, too. I’m always going to be a sucker for some Grade A body horror, but here all of it feels really interesting because it’s done with depth and purpose. So, yeah, you may heave a little when our lead’s hand morphs into a gross gun (that looks like a tumor with nipples?), or perhaps you’ll throw the book across the room when you see the, um, interesting mating cycle of the titular invaders. (Ain’t life just grand?) Mandrake rides a familiar style line (think 2000 AD mixed with Tales from the Crypt), but pushes the horror to the edge of our very mental-emotional faculties.
Courtesy of Goats Flying Press.
Again, all of that has a purpose in The Consumption — the weapon means more debt for our lead (which furthers the capitalism analogy perfectly) and that “awful circle of life” further comments on our consumption-driven culture. Some commentary might seem obvious, but things are never overly gross for the LOLz; they’re overly gross because the story and its subject matter demand said intensity. It’s a commitment by Mandrake and Girner to not just tell a good, effective story, but to respect what they’re trying to do even when they being weird or irreverent AF. And that approach and “respect” makes the stomach-churning bits all the more unsettling because we know there is this deep truth to what’s happening (regardless of the lens being utilized here).
Still, The Consumption works not just because of the creators’ integrity and ability to be deliberate but never obnoxious. For example, the A.I. and our lead offer a certain level of humor and humanity that I think the book needs early on. Now, I assume they won’t be friends, and even if they eventually are, don’t expect something that ever feels forced or hackneyed. Because knowing what it isn’t or can’t be is another true strength of The Consumption, and that’s a big deal nowadays. Mostly, though, it seems like the creators are tapping into some specific functions/needs of comics storytelling, and that core gives them a framework that can further utilize in their satirical efforts.
Courtesy of Goats Flying Press.
This “buddy cop flick from hell” structure totally connects with the larger idea of a system that uses up humanity like so many disposable batteries, and how we willingly engage in said practice. (In that way, the satire here doesn’t just cast us as unfortunate victims but as the leads in our very own torturous Off-Broadway show.) It also balances our attention and immersion, and it makes The Consumption‘s satire about more than just one way we’ve doomed ourselves. In the end, the “unlikely allies” trope is ultimately a commentary on the homogeneous tendencies of the modern comics marketplace given all of capitalism’s neat-o innovation. Fun!
Still, our “heroes” have nuance and depth, and their relationship is very real even if it’s a device. Luckily, The Consumption #1 does introduce at least one other character that we might connect with and relate to down the road in a more endearing manner. I will only say that it’s a (seemingly) robot, but what matters is the significance given to this “other lead.” They’re really only allowed so far to “exist” visually, in an effort that feels like it’s even more efficient storytelling. We’re meant to assign our own importance here (as I clearly have), and that’s just another moment where so much of this book respects and empowers its readers.
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There’s a similar thread of that across the rest of this debut — be it little gags, more insight into The Consumption’s behaviors and overarching culture, and even just more Grade A body horror delights, the art never telegraphs its ideas and interests. (Similarly, we’re dropped right into this story head first in a way that’s disarming but not completely counterproductive.)
I’d say the only time the book tries to “control” our immersion is an interlude about branding opportunities. But that’s done in such a way that the spike in overtness is both 1) more commentary on the IP-ification of comics and 2) a surge of alternate media (it’s like a commercial, truly) so that your minor annoyance is an interesting feature of the story. In fact, not only does the art not telegraph whatsoever, but it works in a way that we can follow our lead’s journey quickly and efficiently. And there’s ample space to understand this world by meandering over layouts to gather insight or simply by posing ourselves some important questions.
Courtesy of Goats Flying Press.
And for that alone, The Consumption is clearly one of GFP’s best offerings to date (and that’s saying heaps already). It’s a story with so much to say — about where we are, where we’re headed, and fully grappling with what we’ve lost or instead given up (and how we fully live with that occurrence and knowledge).
It’s also a story where the horrors are real but playful, visceral but intellectual, and through that we feel it all deep, deep in our guts. And, ultimately, it’s a story that pokes fun at every single one of us but still has enough respect for our intellect and humanity to urge us toward action (again, without every being so silly as to ever phone in a single move).
You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, and maybe you’ll even throw up. But you certainly won’t leave The Consumption the same person.
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