To some extent, I thought I had Grommets all figured out. Issue #1 was this rampant nostalgia fest, as we explored the magic of skating and punk rock through Cali boys Rick and Brian (stand-ins for writers Rick Remender and Brian Posehn). But issue #2 flipped the script a bit, and that added violence really made me think we were peering into the seedy underbelly of growing up as a latchkey ’80s kid.
But as we arrive to issue #3, things seemed to have zigged when I thought they’d zag, and honestly muchachos, I’m not mad about it whatsoever.
Because issue #3 of Grommets kinda felt like a Disney flick by way of SLC Punk! And by that I mean, something mostly heartfelt even as it was slightly depraved. The boys basically ditch school, smoke pot, and play video games in another done-in-one tale. Sure, there’s some overreaching stuff happening, like Brian’s ongoing family drama and more development with those wondrous Jens. But you could read this issue and walk away with a neat little story of teenage hijinks.
Ultimately, this issue really proves that Grommets doesn’t need much to really tell some important and potent stories about growing up, figuring it all out yourself, trying to find your place and your people, and making mistakes because that’s how you lead a magical life. The art (from Brett Parson and Moreno Dinisio) continues to be a big part of that, and “stoned escapades circa 1985” really are the duo’s creative wheelhouse. They captured the same retro vibes and understated warmth — albeit with more vibes of, say, MAD magazine and Fast Times at Ridgemont High. Those new inspirations/energies were perfect for the issue, and proof that the book has heaps of range even when it’s very much nailed its core aesthetic. It’s that pop of intensity on Brian’s face, or the way junk food looked magical — it’s about creating some new construct or infusing something fresh to capture the vivid mood of this particular chapter.
It makes for a story not just with range but one that’s interested in capturing as much of this time and extending the nostalgia to feel more robust and organic. Whereas indie #2 felt grimy and seedy to match that robust thread of violence, here we could practically feel the haze and smoke settle across the page, making for something altogether slightly trippy and providing another level to this deeply compelling take on California skate life/culture. Even without all the drug references and whatnot, I continued to be floored by the look and feel of this city in this time period, and how there’s so much familiarity and little tweaks to play around with nostalgia in an actually meaningful way.
A retailer’s cover from Tim Baron. Courtesy of Image Comics.
At the same time, it wasn’t just about recreating the vibes of that time you smoked dirt weed and did kickflips while eating Twinkies. (True story.) We also got a new character in Liberty Spike Mike. This unwavering punk rocker fit perfectly into the Rick-Brian dynamic, giving just the right mix of tension and humor to show us how well-rounded the boys’ relationship is already and how there’s so many more threads and ideas to play around with this friendship. Mike’s appearance never took away from the duo, and we got to see how new energies can tell us something more about the boys and how they’re connecting to forge this vital partnership they’ll need as their personal lives grow more complicated (that proves doubly true for Brian). Plus, Mike is a solid mix of funny and oddly charming, and it’s great to see another real human dropped into the fold and truly hold his own.
Similarly, we also get a possible love interest for Rick in Samara, who may possibly have beef with the Jens. Sure, maybe her placement’s a tad more predictable (awkward boy awkwardly wants cool girl!), but I appreciate her personality so far and that she too is being used not just to extend our leads but as another vital part of this still-burgeoning story about the silly complexities of youth. The bigger this story, especially as Rick and Brian remain a core, the more chances we have to forge this deeply textured thing.
Despite my glowing review so far, there was one area of this issue that gave me momentary pause. I mentioned earlier that this issue of Grommets wasn’t nearly as violent — if anything, it was downright sweet and playful (even as graffiti and drugs were involved). Did that shift make me feel a little out of sorts? You betcha. Mostly because I think that thread — of showing something dark under the sunny California exterior — felt like an interesting development for a story with so much love and inherent joy. But I think the shift served a few different purposes.
Variant cover by Brett Parson. Courtesy of Image Comics.
For one, it keeps us on our toes, and we don’t need to see this story coming even if we think it’s just a jaunt down memory lane. The more pockets of new ideas, as well as the ongoing bucking of certain expectations, means this story is deeply alive and interested not just in affirming our wishes but also showing us things (and then maybe taking them away?) to foster a momentum that’s very much as joyous and vexing as actual life. The other big purpose is that maybe the story is building toward something bigger. In the sense that, because each issue of Grommets has felt so different, violence (and really anything else) is always waiting around the next corner.
Similarly, given the threads of this story (the Brian family drama, what happens after the boys have skipped school, and the continued presence of Mike), that seedy underbelly could be explored in an even more potent and impactful manner. And that gives a long-term scope and shape to this story that feels exciting without ruining the kind of accessibility and engagement that’s already defined Grommets. So, sure, fewer skateboard beatdowns, but maybe we’ve traded up instead.
I’m not really one for change, but Grommets gets a big-time pass. Because it’s not so much that things are that markedly different (even as they feel akin to such a process) but rather that Grommets continually finds new ways to further open up. In just three short issues, Grommets has given us so much humor, heart, nostalgia, subtext, and honesty that it feels like a series twice its length. At this rate, we may get a couple novel’s worth of stories by the end of the seven-issue run — and I’d chug that like Diet Squirt.
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