“A Haunted Girl” #1

The following review mentions anxiety, depression, and suicidal ideation.

As writer Ethan Sacks tells us in the afterword for this issue, his new horror series, “A Haunted Girl,” was inspired by how his teenage daughter (and co-writer) Naomi was hospitalized for “severe depression, anxiety and suicidal ideation” four years ago. It’s a profound, sobering piece of subject matter for a horror comic, but does it live up to its promise?

Cover by Joe Quesada
and Richard Isanove

Written by Ethan Sacks, Naomi Sacks
Art by Marco Lorenzana
Colored by Andres Mossa
Lettered by Jaime Martinez

Cleo, an adopted 16-year-old Japanese-American whose depression drove her to near-suicide, is trying unsuccessfully to reintegrate back into her old life. But her struggles are just beginning as she encounters an increasingly terrifying succession of ghosts. Is she losing her grip on reality… or is the explanation much worse?

The first issue succeeds primarily in telling the story of a young girl and her single father struggling to return to normal. It tactfully outlines what Cleo’s situation is, without explicitly telling us what happened to her, via references to depression, confiscated medicine, and even a dry joke about the hospital ward she stays in not allowing knives, even during meals. One apparent nightmare aside, the focus is initially on Cleo trying to have the most normal and pleasant 16th birthday possible with her father, before returning to school for the first time in two months.

Cleo’s first day back has some really strong pacing from Marco Lorenzana, which conveys how suffocating it is for her. We get two whole pages of her walking to class, trying to avoid the sympathetic and unsympathetic alike, including her best friend, who tries to embrace her, causing Cleo to physically recoil as she brushes her off. We get another whole page alternating between the clock and her waiting for class to finish, perfectly showing how agonizingly slow the passage of time is for her.

The book is on shakier ground when it comes to the supernatural aspects: immediately after this emotionally affecting sequence, Cleo encounters a monstrous spider woman descending on her from her bedroom ceiling, and while the pacing here is as deliberate as in previous pages, the sight of her fleeing and locking herself in the bathroom comes across comedically, breaking the realistic air to a degree, and rendering the sincere dialogue from her oblivious father corny as a result.

It’s a delicate tonal balancing act, but instead of working its way back to the emotional feel, the issue is already segueing towards the next one, foreshadowing worldbuilding and backstory reveals tying into Cleo’s ethnic background, that leaves you more curious as how it will fare on this front, than eager to read it. That’s not to say Cleo’s story isn’t emotionally engaging, although I do wish I knew more about what she was like before her major depressive episode, beyond the brief prologue with her as a happy-go-lucky child – we don’t even learn the name of her father or best friend.

Lorenzana’s simple lines let Andres Mossa’s colors shine. Despite this being a horror comic, black shadows are kept to a minimum, with an emphasis on a dull blue light that reflects how gloomy Cleo’s outlook on life is right now. The contrast with the more saturated colors in her father’s scenes (as well as his admittedly more tanned skin tone) is especially striking during the moment she locks herself in the bathroom: it’s not subtle, but the divide between her dark world, and the optimism he’s trying to bring back into her life, is illustrated incredibly well through their different color palettes.

Jaime Martinez’s lettering is especially great during the scene Cleo returns to school, with the sheer depth of whispers and gossip about her shown by giving the speech bubbles — depending on how far they are — gray or black text and outlines. The sound effects have a lot of character (“Krrackadooommmm” for thunder and so on), as does the lettering for the creatures haunting Cleo, with an especially scratchy font and outline for the spider monster, and amorphous black speech bubbles with vertical white text for others.

All in all, “A Haunted Girl” #1 is a lavishly produced comic with a strong, poignant premise, that may or may not have its serious themes undone by campy imagery and plot developments. For the sake of the creative team, and anyone reading affected by the subject matter, I really hope it lives up to its promise of inspiring anyone dealing with suicidal ideation to confront the demons in their lives, and win.

Before we go, it would be remiss of me to not link to the organizations helpfully shared in the back matter, so without further ado:

– The American Foundation for Suicide Prevention

– Suicide & Crisis Lifeline (988)

– Crisis Text Line (text TALK to 741741)

Final Verdict: 7.1 – the jury is out.