Writing about the new Hilda book was decidedly hard. Whereas most of the graphic novels that I cover here are stand-alone pieces of work, the “Hildafolk” series by Luke Pearson is just that: a recurring series, and a rather consistent in quality one at that. When you’re writing about the fourth volume, though, it becomes difficult to avoid the pitfalls of being an echo chamber of that which was said before; it can be tough to say something that truly emphasizes how special or unique the latest book is, rather than relying on boiler plate statements about artistic growth.
Thankfully, it turns out that Luke Pearson made it really easy to talk about the latest book, as this is by far the best book in the Hildafolk series yet.
For those unaware, “Hildafolk” is an all-ages series about the adventures of a curious young girl in a world not too far from (but still not quite like) our own. It’s somewhat akin to Kazu Kibuishi’s “Explorer” books by way of “Tintin,” and each installment finds Hilda’s curiosity being stirred by some strange new mystery or occurrence in her native land. It’s certainly an all-ages classic in the making, and the releases so far have been quite fun, inventive and inviting to new readers.
In the latest story, “Hilda and the Black Hound,” Hilda finds herself joining the local scout group and befriending a curious furry little creature, all while her town is menaced by a strange, lurking dark creature that seems to hover around the edges of town and disappear into thin air. The book juggles these three stories quite well, as Hilda’s attention flits between each of the three subplots before they all eventually cascade into one another — and it is with this that we actually see the first major evolution of Luke Pearson’s “Hildafolk” books.
For better or for worse, the previous Hilda adventures are relatively simple. That’s not meant as an insult to the books — far from it, in fact. They’re astonishingly lovely and enjoyable, full of heart and optimism, but I’d dare say that the strength of the previous volumes comes mainly from being able to revel in Pearson’s wonderfully economic storytelling skills. They’re perfect for a younger audience, but an older reader can ostensibly find more enjoyment from studying the decompression or the way Pearson crafts character interactions rather than the adventures themselves. They’re highly imaginative, but they’re also rather linear; it’s style over substance, to a certain degree.
Yet with “Black Hound,” the book’s sense of normalcy expands. Not only does Pearson have on display his usual penchant for diverse storytelling techniques throughout, but the story has become more broad. Hilda as a character is a bit scatterbrained and that’s certainly part of her charisma, but the narrative itself now follows suit in this; we’re essentially juggling three adventures in one, all with different stakes: Hilda has to please her mum, Hilda has to help a new friend, and Hilda has to solve a mystery that is frightening the entire town (well, she doesn’t have to solve it, but as our heroine you assume she’s going to). It’s not an overly complex plot or anything like that, but it’s a decidedly more involved one — yet it’s also not something that becomes too jarring or hard to follow. Rather, the various plates that begin spinning at the beginning come together in a rather well-paced and carefully thought out fashion by the end of the book, proving that “Black Hound” truly is the smartest Hildafolk book yet.
Of course, Luke Pearson’s cartooning is a large part of what makes the book so endearing. Pearson’s artwork has an inherent quality to it that’s rather eye grabbing and distinct, sort of like a modern day Hergé. He’s shown, through multiple books in this series and elsewhere, to be a master at compressed and decompressed storytelling. Throughout the narrative there are multiple points that Pearson astounds, both in terms of creating small, intimate and quiet moments as well as more large-scale bombastic fun, with a good mix of both overall throughout. Pearson’s figures also seem to travel across the page of their own accord with a sense of self and movement that is not always captured in the sequential medium, and the book is full of lush scenery and settings to travel over with almost no space in the book wasted.
Continued belowNot only that, but the book comes with a distinct demeanor as is. Hilda herself is certainly a rather stand-out character, but her entire world is unique; it’s similar to ours, yet magical enough to be unfamiliar. Yet even with that qualifier, the book still comes with a sense of reality and grounding to it that you might not imagine possible. So much of this book is explained through in-universe logic and new mythology, and what’s so wonderful about Hilda’s stories is that in many ways they seem to represent the games of children. What Hilda experiences is her actual reality, but it’s also easy to see it as what many children could come up with for the explanations as to why things go missing, or what the space between the wall and the bookshelf is. In that lies the true magic of Hilda as an all-ages story, and it’s something adamantly on display with this volume.
Hilda herself is ever so charming, of course. As the central character, there’s a certain amount of burden inherently placed on her to carry the book, and she does so with aplomb. Hilda feels like a rather unique heroine, in that she’s entirely idealist; she’s just about the sweetest young lass you’d ever meet, and is eager to help those she can and understand that which she does not. Curiosity is a big part of her, but it’s her inquisitive nature that makes her fascinating — for Hilda, it’s not simply enough to be part of the world, but rather to actively contribute to it. This makes her stand out from many similar characters, who are often simply thrust into situations. Hilda puts herself at the frontlines, because she has a driving thirst for knowledge that’s core to how she experiences the world around her — and I can’t help but admire her for that.
There are many reasons that the “Hildafolk” series is stand-out, but Hilda herself is the primary one. If ever there was a sharp character for young readers to emulate, it’s certainly her.
“Black Hound” is certainly an all-ages book, though. There are the aforementioned elements that are quite surreal and lovely and appealing to younger audiences, and there is plenty to appreciate from an older perspective, that of someone who adores this medium. What’s interesting about the Hildafolk books (and “Black Hound” in particular) is the way Pearson ostensibly approaches the page. Each page of the book feels rather unique in design, and that’s not something you see in many books of this nature. Some pages feel like a collection of old-fashioned newspaper strips, for example, full of quick set-up and deliveries for punchlines. Other pages are closer to the European-style comics that obviously inspire Pearson and the series, mining the larger page size for its inherent value. There are moments where Pearson sets up veritable mazes and puzzles across the page, directing the readers eyes very carefully through a series of events, and as the proverbial older audience I have to note that it’s rather fun to study the craft on display.
The “Hildafolk” books have been universally enjoyable so far, but “Black Hound” very much is the stand-out. The previous three volumes all have distinct affectations on their own, but it’s hard not to see them now as build-up to this. Each of the previous books essentially established the setting and how the characters interact, but it’s this book that finally takes everything built-up about them and runs with it. What makes it even more remarkable is that, really, “Black Hound” is as good an entry point to this series as any other volume. This is a book that’s as easy to get lost in as it is to pull it off the shelf, and is rather a truly remarkable comic.
One thing is for certain: if you’re like me and have the previous books already, then the good news is that “Black Hound” is an excellent addition to the series. And if you’ve never checked out a “Hildafolk” book before, then the better news is that “Black Hound” is a great place to start. A shift from the previous books in style but not losing an iota of the established, accessible and (most importantly) friendly tone, “Hilda and the Black Hound” is exactly the type of comics we need to see more of.
