Veteran film writer McBride clearly esteems Cukor’s “rich, multifaceted, deeply personal” worldview as expressed in his oeuvre. He ascribes Cukor’s masterful conveyance of nuance in human behavior, of subtext, to the director’s own “double life”—Cukor’s outsider status as a “partially closeted” gay man, a son of Hungarian Jewish immigrants. McBride appraises Cukor’s craft throughout his long career of working intimately with actors in dozens of films, finding themes and throughlines. Cukor elicited such landmark star turns as Greta Garbo in Camille (1936), Joan Crawford and others in The Women (1939), Judy Garland and James Mason in A Star Is Born (1954), and Katharine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy in Adam’s Rib (1949), the “high tide of American sophisticated comedy.” Indelible performances by Rex Harrison and Audrey Hepburn in My Fair Lady (1964) reflect the “seamless match of this Pygmalion-like director with his material” in what McBride characterizes as Cukor’s most personal film and the only film to win Cukor an Academy Award as Best Director. A career-long fascination with sexual unconventionality and gender fluidity culminated in Cukor’s “late journey of self-revelation” and such camp turns as Maggie Smith in Travels With My Aunt (1972). Trained in theater, Cukor saw all “human interaction, and romance in particular, as a form of performance.” Appropriate to the director’s body of work, McBride examines Cukor’s professional excellence by foregrounding the classic performances he was able to draw out from his famous actors. Although Cukor was “reductively stereotyped as a ‘woman’s director’” (code for gay), McBride offers strong evidence that he was in fact “one of the finest actors’ directors.”

This graphic novel opens on a snowy evening at Hillock College, where the semester is off to a bumpy start for Molly Song and her friend Lou Kingston. Molly is reeling from a recent breakup with her girlfriend, Olene Reed, who dumped Molly via email from the plane to Europe, where she’s spending the semester studying in France. Also in France? Lou’s ex, Yona Escobar. Though Yona is conflicted about her breakup with Lou, Olene is determined that they let go of past baggage and make the most of their time abroad. Through shopping trips, selfies, and a spontaneous kiss on the dance floor at a local lesbian bar, Yona soon realizes she has romantic feelings for Olene. But Olene is keeping a big secret that may change their relationship forever. Back on campus, Molly is still wallowing when her roommate, Jackie Holman, invites her to a party at her ex Anjali’s house. Molly agrees to go, with Lou in tow, in the hopes that they can find some rebound girlfriends. But when Lou becomes instantly infatuated with Anjali, Molly can’t help but feel jealous. And as her affection for Lou grows, Molly makes a decision that upends her life at Hillock once again. A charming, loose art style adds some levity to the novel’s heavier themes, and the color palette—shades of blue, purple, pink, and orange—beautifully mirrors the ever-shifting and deeply felt emotional states of the characters. But while the author is deft at exploring the nuances of complicated relationships, with a particular focus on queer identity, the characters don’t have much substance beyond their romantic motivations.

Twelve-year-old Mendel’s incapable of doing anything right. When he hugs his mother, he knocks her into the washtub. While setting the table, he lights the table on fire. And when he chops wood, he almost decapitates his sister. Mendel’s mother tells him it isn’t his fault: Years ago, Starface Matja cursed Mendel when his pregnant mother refused to share the last cabbage at the market. But knowing why he’s Mendel the Mess-Up doesn’t make it any easier to bear. Now the Cossacks are coming. If they destroy the village, it will be Mendel’s fault, but the only weapon he has is his greatest weakness. Simple, entertaining cartoons bring Mendel’s adventure to life. An author’s note speaks to an attempt to render a historically inspired invented setting, a shtetl in a fictional Eastern European country. While some silly touches amuse (a happy goat grins as he trots on a machine designed to collect goat sweat), others (like the shtetl with the linguistically improbable name “Lintvint”) are disconcerting. Despite the comedic art style, the stakes can be surprisingly high; panels, sometimes unexpectedly, rocket from lighthearted to grim to inspirational. All characters are depicted with the same shades of peachy skin; Jewish characters are differentiated from the Cossacks primarily by hairstyle and clothing.

Timid Bigfoot usually holes up inside his cave, afraid to venture out. Everyone makes loud, terrifying noises whenever they see him. But at least he has other misunderstood monster pals who appreciate his plight, among them Nessie, who lives in Scotland; Mothman, who’s from the Appalachian Mountains; and the Chupacabra, who resides in Puerto Rico. All of them long for friends, but people fear them. Bigfoot decides to mail them valentines reminding them of their positive qualities. He carefully creates cards, but when he goes out to mail them, he’s seen by a scout troop and, in his haste to escape, drops them. Hiding in the bushes, Bigfoot sadly says, “I don’t think the mailman would have known just where to deliver them anyway.” Luckily, the scouts have a worldwide network, which comes together to help deliver the valentines to all of the monsters’ vague and secretive locations. Marsh’s tender tale takes an expansive, global view and demonstrates that anyone can experience loneliness, even seemingly formidable beasts. None of the creatures are frightening; Lobo gives them each kind eyes and shy smiles that make them endearing and downright cuddly despite their pointy teeth or multiple appendages. The scouts are a diverse bunch.

Dubbed “quirky” by her mother (an assessment readers will likely agree with), Millie narrates her own well-paced story in a flow of verbiage she often has trouble stemming. She is “the boss” but defers to her mom, who happens to be the mayor of Washington, D.C. Mayor Maude’s a single parent (Millie’s father is dead), but her assistant, Josephine Draper, adds more rules, like insisting that Millie’s pet chick, Extra Spicy, live in the coop outside. Millie and her “bestest friends,” Lunchbox, Poppy Anne, and Atticus, also face a sneaky, name-calling bully, Buckley. (Mazique drops an early clue: Only recently has Buckley “become so mean.”) Other conflicts involve Millie learning she can’t take Extra Spicy to the school’s Family Field Day and competing against Buckley in the three-legged race. It strains credulity somewhat that both teacher and principal fail to get Millie’s side of the bullying story, but Mazique gives Millie a relatable awareness of her struggles with impulse control, like “not being quiet and not sitting in my seat.” Eventually things improve in a teachable turnaround that’s a bit abrupt but still moving. Glenn’s realistic cartoon-style drawings portray Mille, her family, the principal, and Atticus as Black; the teacher, Poppy Anne, and Buckley as white; and Lunchbox as East Asian.