In “The Vice President’s Black Wife: The Untold Life of Julia Chinn,” Dr. Amrita Chakrabarti Myers argues, “Lying at the crossroads of race, sex, and politics, Julia’s life illuminates how some Black women in the Old South utilized interracial partnerships to negotiate and acquire a modicum of power for themselves and their families while simultaneously highlighting the clear limits of that power: the farther away the Johnson women moved from home and their networks of privilege, the less authority they had” (p. 1). Dr. Myers thoroughly researches Julia Chinn’s family from the historical record, including what personal correspondence survive as well as contemporary letters and newspaper coverage, while also incorporating later popular historiography and family histories to contextualize Julia Chinn’s legacy. Acknowledging the gaps in the historical record, Dr. Myers acknowledges that “to reconstruct the lives of enslaved women, to write Black women back into the historical narrative,” she “must use materials created by white folks, white men, who never intended for their documents to highlight Black women’s voices” (p. 7). Dr. Myers argues, “Although sexual unions in the Old South between white slave owners and Black enslaved women were common, these ‘relationships’ were always complicated affairs, where enslaved women had limited options, none of which were good, and little choice in the matter because of the intersection of slavery, racism, and patriarchy” (p. 35). Julia Chinn’s narrative, then, should not be read as one of romance as there always existed a power imbalance between her and Richard Johnson while the society in which they lived inscribed its own rules on all relationships. As Dr. Myers notes, “The Johnsons’ relationship was…never a love story. Richard was always a slaveholder. Julia was always his property” (p. 85). Despite these constraints, Dr. Myers argues, “This was Julia Chinn’s main mission. Like Black mothers well before her and those who would come long after, every step she took was carefully planned so her descendants would rise up higher, and go much further, than she herself ever would” (p. 55). When Richard Johnson opened the Choctaw Academy on his property for Native American children, it revealed the complicated racial hierarchy that shaped the lives of white settlers, enslaved and free Black people, and Native Americans. Dr. Myers argues that the episode reveals “how settler colonialism and white supremacy warps everyone” (p. 88). Similarly, the liminal semi-public space of the church afforded another realm in which Julia Chinn and her daughters might enjoy an elevated position due to class within the confines of race due to the church’s place outside of civil governance (p. 91-115). Though most modern national histories may offer only a brief discussion of Richard Johnson’s political career, Dr. Myers reveals how his relationships played a critical role in shaping that career in his own time. She examines contemporary newspaper coverage and argues, “Having sex with a Black woman and fathering children of color hasn’t prevented other white men from running for political office in the United States… The problem for Richard, however, was that he… was open about his relationship with Julia. He never married a white woman for cover” (p. 132). Going public nearly derailed his national political ambitions. As it was, Johnson became the first – and only – Vice President elected under the Twelfth Amendment (p. 157-158). Even then, he could not secure a second term as Vice President. In death, his brothers sought to disavow his and Julia’s union as well as their children (p. 169). As a result, “National attitudes toward Blackness, slavery, and interracial sex all played a role in erasing Julia Chinn and her daughters, Imogene Johnson Pence and Adaline Johnson Scott, from US history textbooks as well as from the memories of their own families” (p. 189-190). Their descendants crossed the color line, though some retained an inkling of their family’s history. Dr. Myers’ book reveals the critical intersection of race and gender in U.S. history with a focus on local, state, and national politics. Julia Chinn’s connection to a Vice President of the United States makes this history all the more important as Johnson and Chinn’s connection was known in their own time, but has since faded into the mists of history. The Vice President’s Black Wife reveals the complicated narrative of U.S. history while recovering the story of a forgotten figure who helped shape that history. This book is critical reading for any historian of nineteenth-century America.

James Sturm and Joe Sutphin’s adaptation of Richard Adams’ “Watership Down.” The story faithfully retells the tale of a group of rabbits who seek a new home following the destruction of their warren, encountering other creatures, rabbits from different warrens, and elements of the human world that take on monstrous forms in the minds of the rabbits. The rabbits have their own mythology, though the allegory of their adventures was inspired by Adams’ experiences in the Battle of Arnhem in 1944. Sturm and Sutphin’s adaptation uses the graphic medium to visually capture the scale of the rabbits’ world as well as their emotions. Their adaptation will serve as a nice introduction to new readers or a supplementary volume for teachers incorporating “Watership Down” into their classroom syllabi.

Meg Cabot’s “Black Canary: Ignite” features art by Cara McGee, colors by Caitlin Quirk, and letters by Clayton Cowles. The story focuses on a middle-school-aged Dinah Lance who plays in a band with her friends Kat Van Dorn and Vee Ramirez. Dinah wants to eventually become a police officer like her father, but he worries about her as she begins showing signs of having powers when she can break things with her voice. Meanwhile, a mysterious figure lurks nearby observing her as a villain from Dinah’s mother’s past returns. Cabot delightfully introduces the Black Canary to a new generation of readers in this reimagining of the character. The story resembles the magical girl genre of manga, though with elements of punk rock akin to Marvel’s “Spider-Gwen.” McGee’s illustrations and Quirk’s colors perfectly match the energy of the story. This would be a fun book for DC fans to give to their younger children as well as to read themselves.

Devin Grayson and Becca Farrow’s adaptation of Tamora Pierce’s “First Test: Protector of the Small – Book 1” faithfully adapts the first book of Pierce’s third Tortall quartet. The story introduces Keladry of Mindelan, who trains as a knight a decade after the events of the “Song of the Lioness” quartet in which Alanna trained and Jonathan of Conté made it legal for girls to train. Kel faces an uphill battle from the beginning with an added probationary period which other pages need not pass, though she seeks Lord Wyldon’s approval. Her sponsor, Nealan, sponsors her in the training and helps her learn the unofficial rules of training. Along the way, Kel discovers that she has a secret benefactor and makes friends while she challenges the systemic bullying at the school. Each of Pierce’s Tortall quartets may be read on their own and this works as an easy entry point for new readers, though some prior familiarity with “Song of the Lioness” and “Immortals” will help readers appreciate the world that Pierce built. “First Test” may appeal the most to new readers’ tastes, however, and what they expect from YA fantasy. Grayson’s adaptation honors the original text while taking into consideration the areas in which the art will tell the story. Farrow brilliantly compliments Pierce and Grayson’s writing with distinctive character designs and great visual world-building. Her art and Grayson’s adaptation will introduce new readers to Pierce’s writing and enhance their appreciation of Tortall. The book concludes with Farrow’s character sketches and a glossary of medieval and fantasy terms for newcomers. I look forward to Grayson and Farrow continuing to adapt the other books in the “Protector of the Small” quartet.

Alyssa Wong’s “Star Wars: Doctor Aphra Omnibus, Vol. 2” collects “Doctor Aphra” (2020) #1-25 written by Wong with pencils by Marika Cresta, Ray-Anthony Height, Robert Gill, Minkya Jung, Federica Sabbatini, and Natacha Bustos; inks by Victor Olazaba; colors by Rachelle Rosenberg; letters by Joe Caramagna; and cover art by Valentina Remenar, Leinil Francis Yu, Sunny Gho, Joshua “Sway” Swaby, Sara Pichelli, Nolan Woodard, and W. Scott Forbes. The story continues the saga of the “Star Wars” galaxy’s favorite rogue archaeologist, Chelli Aphra, following the events of “The Empire Strikes Back” as the Rebel Alliance is on the run and Darth Vader holds a grudge against Aphra for the fallout from their partnership. Meanwhile, she’s put together a new team consisting of herself, Black Krrsantan, Detta Yao, Doctor Eustacia Okka, Just Lucky, and TA-418 while they try to evade Ronen Tagge, a member of the wealthy Tagge family who seeks out rare, one-of-a-kind pieces just so that he can be the last to hold them before destroying them in the ultimate display of privilege. Dealing with these artifacts eventually brings Aphra into conflict with Domina Tagge, whose family business threads a narrow path in the Empire in order to enrich itself and maintain a political status quo beneficial to their plans. Aphra’s emplyment with Tagge leads her to missions involving Crimson Dawn and malevolent Ascendant artifacts. This volume concludes with an Ascendant artifact taking possession of Aphra, leading her associates to unite in order to free her from its grip. Wong’s writing advances Dr. Aphra’s narrative while expanding the scope of the “Star Wars” galaxy to include more groups paralleling the Jedi and Sith in the ancient past. Cresta, Height, Gill, Jung, Sabbatini, and Bustos’ art all brings Wong’s story to dynamic action while Rosenberg’s colors pop. A great collection for fans of Doctor Chelli Lona Aphra, though less than half as long as the first omnibus.

In “Docile: Memoirs of a Not-So-Perfect Asian Girl,” Hyeseung Song describes her life immigrating to Texas from Korea as a young child, growing up in poverty even while her family expects her to succeed. Her family struggles early on due to her father’s various failed business ideas and they only gain some security when her mother gets a job. The financial insecurity combined with her parents’ vastly different personalities leads to domestic violence, further adding to Hyeseung’s sense of uncertainty. Over time, she begins to make friends and find success at school, but her parents’ strict expectations leave her feeling adrift in her own home. She writes, “You learned love was entirely conditional, and you could vanish – even to your own mother – at any moment” (p. 72). Even getting into Princeton and succeeding at her classes isn’t enough to allay her feelings of displacement. Hyeseung writes, “Pinning everything on the nail of achievement had meant that failure was death and life was small. Ultimately, I had suffered anyway and my belief in this ontological structure had faltered” (p. 125). In her philosophy studies, Hyeseung found a way to describe what had been bothering her. She writes, “Descartes had devoted his life to locating contradictions and striking those that turned out to be false, in order to see if science were possible. But I wanted to know if I in any consistent way were possible. The solution up until then had been to amass achievement visible in both cultures, pursue a workable synthesis of beliefs, and shift my behavior depending on the local culture, while trying not to disappear through it all” (p. 165). Describing her mounting mental health struggles and how she perceived them during her combined law degree and philosophy PhD studies, Hyeseung writes, “My self-worth was tied to Work, as if Work were a star. Work and Worth were bound together and if one fell, then the other did, too” (p. 202). She links this to the added stress of her immigrant background and feelings of dual identities between her American and Korean cultural heritages, but this sense of self-worth will resonate with nearly anyone who has pursued graduate studies, particularly if their family treated their success or failure at these studies as reflective of the family’s worth. Hyeseung concludes, “In my life, I had tried to be a great daughter, a great student, a great wife, an American, a Korean, even a great artist – and through these pursuits, I had always chased an ought, forgetting to revel in what I actually already was” (p. 288). Song’s book will resonate with anyone who has felt torn between identities or struggled with their mental health. In particular, those with extensive experience in academia cannot help but find themselves in her words. Her honest narrative is a moving read for anyone who finds themselves feeling lost without the words to articulate the feeling.

In “Challenger: A True Story of Heroism and Disaster on the Edge of Space,” Adam Higginbotham examines the history of the Space Shuttle from its initial concept and early experiments conducted by Maxime Faget and Dottie Lee through the selection of Astronaut Group 8, nicknamed “TFNG,” which included the first American woman in space with Sally Ride, the first African-American man in space with Guion Bluford, the first American woman to perform a spacewalk with Kathryn Sullivan, and the first Asian-American in space with Ellison Onizuka. After the wind-down from Apollo and the Moon, the Shuttle opened up a new way for Americans to envision space. Despite technical and historic achievements, the portrayal of the Shuttle as safe and entirely reliable by NASA, its contractors, and politicians belied the complex system at the Shuttle’s heart and how thoroughly it depended upon new technologies with little to no room for error. Higginbotham continues to demonstrate how Morton Thiokol underestimated the danger of their O-ring system at a management level while NASA’s own management sought to meet impossible launch schedules in order to appease government and private interests. Of a Morton Thiokol presentation on O-rings, Higginbotham writes, “obscured amid the blizzard of charts, data-filled binders, and Viewgraph slides, the rocket engineers failed to realize that they had reached a critical inflection point. Over the course of the years they had been developing and flying the solid rocket motors, the men at Thiokol and Marshall had slowly expanded the parameters of what they regarded as acceptable risk in the joints” (p. 206). Even when the quick-thinking of Jenny Howard saved a Shuttle launch with an abort-to-orbit, NASA did not pause to seriously examine and reconsider every part of the launch equipment (p. 239). In the end, Richard Feynman’s conclusion proved particularly prescient given the latter disaster involving the Columbia: “For a successful technology, reality must take precedence over public relations… for nature cannot be fooled” (p. 450). Higginbotham’s book is an authoritative account of the Challenger disaster for those who don’t remember it or who want a book that explains the technical information without aiming for a technical audience. Eminently readable, he manages to balance a cast of hundreds and weave their narratives together as part of an organic whole that inexorably led to disaster amid institutional failures. “Challenger” is a warning to all such institutions to carefully examine their systems and avoid allowing outside pressures from business or politics to influence their decision-making away from safety.

Lauren Myracle’s “Victor and Nora: A Gotham Love Story” features art by Isaac Goodhart, colors by Cris Peter, and letters by Steve Wands. The story reimagines the meeting of Victor Fries and Nora Faria, both of whom have experienced tragedy in their seventeen years. Victor researches cryonics in order to treat disease after losing his older brother, Otto, in a fire when they were younger. Nora, suffering from chrysalisis, knows that her degenerative disease will inevitably lead her to lose herself before losing her life. Each touched by tragedy, they meet in a graveyard and find renewed life in each other’s company. Victor’s drive begins to extend to Nora, trying to give her perfect days while also researching ways to forestall the effects of her disease. The result is a great tragic retelling of Victor Fries and Nora set in the modern day. Goodhart’s art uses visual language to alternate between hope, with butterflies, and doom, with dark birds, flitting around the story. Peter’s colors similarly punctuate the story as she alternates between warm oranges and reds and colder blues and purples depending on the character or the scene. Myracle brings this classic comic book narrative into the modern era in the style of contemporary YA fiction as a great introduction to these characters for newcomers and a fun retelling for established fans.

Mark Waid’s “Star Wars: Princess Leia” collects issues #1-5 of the titular series written by Waid, illustrated by Terry Dodson, inked by Rachel Dodson, colored by Jordie Bellaire, lettered by Joe Caramagna, and with cover art by the Dodsons. The story begins mere minutes after the end of “A New Hope,” with Princess Leia finding herself seeking a purpose in the wake of Alderaan’s destruction. She recruits fellow Alderaanian pilot Evaan Verlaine for her personal mission as the last surviving member of the Alderaanian Royal Family to seek out and rescue any surviving Alderaanians before the Empire can eliminate them in retaliation for the Death Star’s destruction. Leia’s travels first take her to Naboo, offering a chance for her to encounter a Force-vision of her mother, the late Queen Amidala. Similarly, Artoo-deetoo has a homecoming, though without the fanfare. From there, they travel to Sullust, where Leia finds a group of particularly paranoid Alderaanians. She wins their loyalty, but needs their skills to find a spy in her midst. Evaan also helps introduce Nien Nunb to Princess Leia. Once Leia learns the identity of the spy, she demonstrates her willingness to risk her own life to preserve every remaining Alderaanian life. Meanwhile, her emissary to a different Alderaanian enclave encounters difficulty due to the fact that the Alderaanians have married and had children with the local population. Some want to accept anyone with Alderaanian heritage in order to keep any trace of their people alive while others reveal their racism. The story is a great Leia-centric “Star Wars” adventure, taking place shortly after the original film. The connections with Nien Nunb help connect to Cecil Castellucci and Jason Fry’s novel, “Moving Target,” while the setting neatly parallels Marvel’s relaunch of the “Star Wars” comics. Further, Leia’s brief glimpse of a Force-vision of her mother is a moving scene. Both Luke’s wardrobe as well as that of Evaan help to establish a style that appeared in Kevin Hearne’s novel, “Heir to the Jedi.” Waid is an able storyteller and uses Leia’s quest to rescue Alderaanian survivors as an introduction to explore Leia’s character. The Dodson’s art works particularly well with Waid’s writing, capturing character likenesses and imbuing scenes with a dynamism befitting “Star Wars” storytelling.

Joe Sacco’s “Paying the Land” tells the story of the Dene around the Mackenzie River Valley, whose livelihoods are threatened by the oil, gas, and diamond industries in the Canadian Northwest Territories. Industrial and economic changes transform the landscape while dividing communities between traditionalists, those who embrace the new systems, and people who remain conflicted but undecided. Elements of the environmental story and its impact on the locals resemble Kate Beaton’s recent book, “Ducks,” though the indigenous perspective sets “Paying the Land” apart. Sacco interviews members of the Dene in order to bring their words to the world. In addition to the costs of resource exploitation, Sacco recounts how the residential school system represented an institutional effort to destroy First Nations cultures (pg. 121-149). Like his other graphic novel journalism projects, Sacco acknowledges the observer’s paradox and how his entry into these communities and interviews only capture his own perspective or others’ perspectives filtered through him and the limitations that process involves. He notes that his interviews are another form of extraction similar to the oil industry on Dene land (p. 107). He also acknowledges that processing First Nations’ experiences through a western medium can repeat – albeit on a smaller scale – the cultural genocide of the residential schools and their efforts to force Euro-Canadian culture upon the Dene. Despite these concerns and his somewhat disarming portrayal of himself in a self-deprecating manner reminiscent of R. Crumb or Harvey Pekar, he strives to illuminate stories that might not receive as much attention in the standard press. Sacco concludes with a look at different efforts for decolonization work that members of the Dene are undertaking. The result is the type of work that Sacco’s readers expect and that sheds light on the lingering effects of colonization.