We’ve all had a friend that we met randomly, or through bizarre circumstances. Sometimes, those friendships can seem pre-ordained or like destiny shoving two folks together. “The Strange Ones” tells a tale of such friendship, speckled with impeccable detail, real emotion, and some fantastic artwork.
Written, illustrated, and lettered by Jeremy JusayCover by Jeremy JusayAnjeline walks with an open heart, but alone, through a world that consistently rejects her; Franck, another loner, never smiles. After the hand of fate literally shoves them together in the roiling mosh pit at a Midtown rock concert, they bond over the long commute back to Staten Island, and begin a friendship that makes the world a little better for them both. Together, this strange pair turns the sharp-edged, gloomy New York City into their playground…even as pain and heartbreak await around the corner.
“The Strange Ones” is a quiet look at friendship in the moments that usually don’t make films and television shows. Sure, Anjeline and Franck go on adventures together, but most of their interactions are on the ferry, or walking around the city. Jeremy Jusay crafts an entire book around these moments, and yet, the book doesn’t feel inconsequential. Instead, this feels much closer to what many friendships feel like, and so the emotional beats resonated in really meaningful ways.
In many ways, this book felt like a love letter to mid-90s New York City, with now defunct music venues (R.I.P. Roseland and CBGC) and subway tokens populating the world. But since much of this was written/illustrated contemporaneously, it isn’t as saturated with nostalgia as it would’ve been if Jusay had reflected on all of this from a 25 year distance. It’s refreshing to see a look at the past that is more honest and accurate than the sepiatone we are often sold via the memories of ourselves and others.
Jusay’s artwork blends accurate landmarks and the tone of various neighborhoods with more stylized characters. Franck, specifically, is always illustrated with dark circles for eyes, an inverse of Lil’ Orphan Annie, which adds to his mystery. So much of the story is spent with Anjeline trying to solve the mystery of Franck, and so the visual reminder of his elusiveness is apt. Jusay is able to capture so much of the New York vibe without going hyper-detailed on any one location or relying on tropes to do the work for him. A keen architectural eye is part of Jusay’s success, as he is able to replicate the various neighborhoods simply by getting the buildings right. This may be of particular note to me as a Tri-State-r, but I think the attention to detail makes the book feel authentic.
The friendship between Franck and Anjeline is unusual, but never feels false. Franck acts like someone living in his head all the time, and presents some outward signs of social anxiety. Anjeline wants to be everyone’s friend, but often folks don’t seem to reciprocate. In fact, Franck doesn’t really reciprocate in normal ways, either. Jusay never shows either character as being obsessed with the other; their lives are rich and full and don’t feel like they are just waiting for the other to show up. But when they are together, the energy radiates off the page.
The sequence that resonated above the rest was one where Anjeline accompanies Franck to Catholic Mass. Jusay did a really nice job balancing Franck’s piety and Anjeline’s total lack of experience with faith, allowing the reader to find their place along that line graph. The scene is presented through Anjeline’s eyes, and she is able to see both the sublime and the unusual in the service. The way that the book presents the scene doesn’t really hint at the importance that the sermon will take in her life.
The last third or so of the book is a very true representation of grief and its stages. Without spoiling too much, we are able to learn much more about the characters through both their confidants and their belongings in quiet scenes that were quite emotional. Jusay rarely draws a person in total distress, but rather in the moments after that despair, when reality is sinking in, and a mask of (relative) normalcy is needed. These sequences feel hollow in a purposeful way; there is something missing from them, and that absence is clearly noted.
A thought that I couldn’t dislodge while reading this was that this friendship could never have formed in a time with smartphones. Anjeline and Franck would’ve likely had their faces buried in their phones on line heading into the Belly show, and never noticed each other. All of their ‘random’ encounters could’ve been clouded by a podcast or phone call in their ears. This isn’t an old man yelling at a cloud (well, mostly not that), but rather a reminder to let destiny take hold now and then, and to let your surroundings interact with your actions, instead of simply being a backdrop to the iPhone screen.
The highest complement I can pay Jusay’s work is that it is hard to believe that this is a fictional story. Jusay has filled the book with such emotional truth and impressive details that this feels ripped from his own life. And while there are undoubtedly autobiographical elements, Jusay simply allowed his imagination, heart, and attention to detail to populate the page with truth, rather than fact.
