Lisa Hanawalt is best known to me as the production designer for the beautiful and emotive Netflix original series Bojack Horseman, but outside of that she has made some award-winning comics. In 2016, Hanawalt’s “Hot Dog Taste Test” won the Ignatz for outstanding graphic novel. Now, just before Bojack’s fifth season, Hanawalt returns to comics with an odd and endearing little graphic novel of anthropomorphic canines on horseback, “Coyote Doggirl.”
Written & Illustrated by Lisa HanawaltCover by Lisa Hanawalt
Coyote is a dreamer and a drama queen, brazen and brave, faithful yet fiercely independent. She beats her own drum and sews her own crop tops. A gifted equestrian, she’s half dog, half coyote, and all power. Together with her trusty steed Red, there’s not much that’s too big for her to bite off, chew up, and spit out right into your face, if you deserve it. But when Coyote and Red find themselves on the run from a trio of vengeful bad dogs, get clobbered by arrows, and are tragically separated, our protagonist is left fighting for her life, and longing for her displaced best friend. Taken in by a wolf clan, Coyote may be wounded, but it’s not long before she’s back on the open road to track down Red and tackle the dogs who wronged her.
At around 150 pages, and with a style that tends toward few words, and rarely more than four panels or beats to a page, Hanawalt doesn’t leave herself much room to explore the world and characters of the book. Yet she manages to skilfully draw out instantly distinct and charming characters that I could happily spend more time than I get to with. Once she’s shown you a bit about a character or community, Hanawalt will swiftly move on, never satisfied with sitting still. This is a reflection of our titular protagonist, the only character who remains throughout that entirety of the book, Coyote is always on the move. She starts the book alone, on the run, with only her beloved horse, Red, to talk to; later it’s that steed that she runs in search of. “Coyote Doggirl,” the book and the character, never stop moving.
That’s not to say that the book feels fast pace, more that once something has been said and done, Hanawalt doesn’t feel much of a need to linger on it. This gives “Coyote Doggirl” the ability to move between tones and themes and settings without feeling jarring. At times it can be deeply sad, revisiting the traumatic event that sent Coyote on the run, while at others it can revel in moments of humour and human connection. This is something that “Doggirl” has in common with Horseman – an ability to jump between very whimsical and very internal and melancholic moments. Maybe this is something that the absurdity of the designs, the anthropomorphic animals, the unnatural colours, gives you licence to do. By putting an absurd sheen on a piece, you can touch on extremely human things and feelings more directly.
I was unsure about drawing comparisons between “Coyote Doggirl” and Bojack Horseman, but I’ve been rewatching the show ahead of its new season next week, so it’s on my mind and a part of my reaction to Hanawalt’s book. While the shapes of the character design are recognisably similar, the world of “Coyote Doggirl” feels tangibly different, unique. It has a childlike wonder and love at its heart. Its central characters are much less cynical, despite having good reason to be. Unlike Bojack, Coyote doesn’t let her trauma define her, it may drive some of her actions but there is more to her. She loves horses, she makes her own clothes. These are quick and simple traits, but they are enough in that presents itself as quick and simple. Bojack Horseman looks at the problems of people, in “Coyote Doggirl,” Hanawalt acknowledges those problems but also points to the beauty and joy around them and says there is a way to move on.
Part of that more optimistic sense stems from the ways the book is put together. It almost feels like a children’s book. A lot of pages don’t have full panel borders, rather they show the simple shapes of the characters floating on a white background, keeping only what’s necessary on the page. When there are borders and backgrounds it’s for a reason; to box Coyote in, to show a progression of movement. We don’t always have all of the information, but we have enough to trust Hanawalt’s storytelling, to trust those that know more. The lovely way Drawn & Quarterly has put “Coyote Doggirl” together, the size of the pages, the thickness of the pages, the weight of the inks, add to the sense of this as an indulgence into that childlike wonderment. This isn’t a children’s book, there’s sex jokes and swear words and adult trauma. But like a children’s book, it’s heartfelt and rounded, it’s a reminder that there is space, perhaps a necessity, for that childlike wonder when you’re an adult.
