This review was published before N.D. Stevenson changed his name and pronouns, and originally referred to him by his birth name and pronouns.
“Nimona” creator and She-Ra and the Princesses of Power showrunner N.D. Stevenson’s “The Fire Never Goes Out” compiles the personal comic strips he created from 2011 to 2019, as well as his end-of-year blog posts. It’s not a conventional graphic memoir, but it’s a powerful work of art nonetheless.
Written with art by N.D. Stevenson
Design by Erin Fitzsimmons and Catherine San JuanIn a collection of essays and personal mini-comics that span eight years of his young adult life, author-illustrator ND Stevenson charts the highs and lows of being a creative human in the world.
Whether it’s hearing the wrong name called at his art school graduation ceremony or becoming a National Book Award finalist for his debut graphic novel, Nimona, ND captures the little and big moments that make up a real life, with a wit, wisdom, and vulnerability that are all his own.
The book begins with Stevenson in a very dark place: it’s December 31, 2010, his 20th birthday, and he’s feeling very unwell. His black-and-white cartoons from the subsequent year describe his loss of faith, struggle to process the death of a classmate, and mental and physical health issues: it’s remarkably bleak, and made moreso because of Stevenson’s pixie-like depiction of himself, as well as the bleakly funny rendering of his depression as a hole in his chest, inhabited by a Batman-esque demon.
Then we read his recap of the year, published on their 21st birthday, and there’s no mention of these alarming troubles whatsoever: it’s the (literally) colorful flipside, where he discusses the online following he gained for his sumptuous renderings of lady pirates and matadors, as well as his modern day takes on Lord of the Rings characters. Between all that, and his hilarious Sherlock and Marvel movie parodies, it’s a jarring contrast, although Stevenson does discuss having trouble sleeping. The hole inhabited by a demon reappears, but he’s quite relaxed about it.
The trend continues over the chapters covering the next several years, as Stevenson’s profile becomes higher, landing publishing deals and work in animation — his personal comics retain signs of melancholy, but become as funny as anything he shares in public. (His strips about trying to enjoy staying in shape are particularly relatable.) It seems we’re left to assume his success, and the start of his relationship with his wife Molly Knox Ostertag, filled the yearning maw in his heart.
However, a much more recent Stevenson from December 31, 2018, does acknowledge the dissonance, clarifying the titular fire is not the strive towards more confidence, but the worry his success and hard work will give way to burnout. It’s a fascinating revelation, the anxiety that doing so much, so soon, will cause even your hobbies to give way to exhaustion — to know even artists fear a day they may no longer be invested in their own passions, is actually incredibly reassuring, because it normalizes it.
Likewise, Stevenson talks about something still quite taboo, despite the great strides we’ve made in talking about mental health over the past decade: medication. He states that despite everything, including going to the gym and therapy, he was still plagued by the pressure to continue being N.D. Stevenson, the wunderkind cartoonist changing the world, and it was beginning to affect him physically as well. He did the simplest, yet hardest thing: he got diagnosed by a psychiatrist, and discovered that despite his fears, medicine made his creative fires coherent and illuminating, instead of extinguishing them.
One of the most affecting moments has Stevenson confessing he’s not sure if he’s a good person: “you do kind things for praise, or to feel better,” he writes, “you fear hurting people, but maybe because you fear being disliked. You’re not strong or brave in the way you want to be.” The book is not about becoming bold, but recognizing you deserve love and happiness: his invaluable insights are potentially life changing for the book’s 15+ target audience, and a reminder of why he has become such a beloved storyteller.
Continued belowIt is ultimately brilliant is that he didn’t feel the need to write new recaps or commentary on his old comics: it must’ve been tempting, to snark about his free verse poetry or old marionette-esque character designs, but he lets his old self-reflections speak for themselves, with all their vagueness and denial about his problems, before bidding goodbye to his younger self — it really speaks to his ability to balance sassy humor with a sincere atmosphere.
It should be noted shortly after the publication of the book that Stevenson came out as being non-binary. That means his decision to not go over his old thoughts and feelings with new ones prevented the book from already becoming dated, and allows you to pick up on signs of that for yourself; he discusses his discomfort with masculine and feminine clothing extensively, even describing himself at one point as resembling “ur terrible son Cody.”
Part of me would still like to read a more extensive memoir, but it feels selfish even saying so, given how much of the book is about taking on too much — Stevenson can’t have got married, finished She-Ra, and composed a whole graphic novel about his life at the same time. Will he create one one day? I’d like that, but there’s no reason he must — he has nothing to prove to us, and this is still an emotional, poignant, and thought-provoking capstone for his career thus far.
