An Epic Tale of Finding Family Amidst the Tragedy (and Absurdity) of Life
Saga answers a question nobody thought to ask: can a story in which rocketships literally grow on trees, oversized human heads on legs host a planet-sized brothel called Sextillion, and telepathic cats detect lies also be a poignant tale about creating a family in the face of adversity? The answer is an undeniable yes!
Volume one of Saga, a critically acclaimed graphic novel series by writer Brian K. Vaughan and illustrator Fiona Staples, introduces readers to a galaxy devastated by war. The winged, technologically-adept natives of the planet Landfall and the horned, magical natives of Landfall’s moon Wreath have been engaged in conflict for as long as anyone can remember, and the destruction has stretched across the galaxy. The story opens with star-crossed lovers Alana and Marko, the former a native of Landfall and the latter a native of Wreath, bringing their newborn daughter Hazel into the world, after which they are immediately swarmed by soldiers from both sides of the conflict. Neither government wants word of the couple’s union to spread, since their relationship and Hazel's existence undermines all the reasons for fighting and proves peace between the two races is possible, so what follows is a desperate attempt by Alana and Marko to find somewhere safe to live with their child while countless bounty hunters pursue them and a seemingly endless war rages on.
One of the most immediately striking features of Saga is the artwork. In my opinion, Saga could not have been properly executed in any medium other than a graphic novel; written descriptions or CGI could never do justice to the immense variety of absurd alien races Vaughan and Staples have created. Each panel is vibrant and dynamic, with bold lines and bright colors that are beautiful to look at even when they depict gruesome scenes. A highlight of the art is the characters' expressions and poses, which perfectly complement Vaughan's dialogue to truly bring each character to life. Even characters without typical humanoid faces—characters from the Robot Kingdom, for instance, who are statuesque, gray-skinned people with televisions for heads—are incredibly expressive, their personalities and feelings able to come across clearly from their poses alone. The transition from one panel to the next feels seamless, conveying dynamic movement without jumping between actions so quickly as to lose readers. This, in addition to the relatively basic panel structure (no overlap between panels, no more than six panels per page, most read strictly from left to right), makes Saga incredibly accessible to people who are not familiar with reading graphic novels while keeping it engaging enough that anyone, including veterans of the genre, will enjoy it.
In addition to the gorgeous artwork, Saga excels at contrasting completely out of this world alien lifeforms and immense intergalactic conflict with small-scale interpersonal relationships. Although a tortoise standing three stories tall and shooting lasers from its eyes or a mercenary with the torso of the Venus de Milo and the abdomen of a spider certainly add to its unique charm, it is the thoughtful exploration of family which makes this series dear to the hearts of so many people, myself included. Alana and Marko's family is the most obvious example of this theme, from their struggles with first-time parenting and maintaining a relationship with one another while raising a child to blending their two cultures which have raised them to hate one another and keeping a family together amidst war. Beyond their small family, Saga features a diverse array of characters of varying racial, sexual, and gender identities, and through their developing relationships, it presents a multitude of perspectives on what "family" entails. Connected to this theme of family, as I am sure you have noticed, are themes of racism and the devastating effects of war, and despite the fantastical nature of the story, Vaughan tackles these concepts in a relatable way which resonates with current social and political issues. Despite its heavy, sometimes dismal topics, Saga makes a point that amidst dark times, there is hope and even humor, and Vaughan balances the tragic and the comedic quite skillfully.
I wholeheartedly recommend Saga, volume 1, to anyone. Whether you are completely new to the world of graphic novels, in which case it is a wonderful introduction, or you want to expand your existing knowledge of them, if you enjoy fantasy or science-fiction the odds are good that you will find something to enjoy in Saga. If I cannot convince you with promises of the beautiful artwork, the epic fantasy world, the diverse, lovable cast, or the fascinating modern applicability, it is at least worth trying out for Lying Cat and Ghüs (who is introduced in volume 2), who are arguably among the cutest characters in modern comics.