If you: find yourself seeking the catharsis of tragedy or the triumph of overcoming said tragedy; if you want to explore your personal trauma with the distance fiction allows; or if you just want to watch the drama of people ruining their lives with guilt… You should binge Problem Child.
If you’re anything like me, you probably pace through the same four social media apps at work, taking a break from the big work screen with the small fun screen. Well, while you’re doing that, you should read a comic on Instagram!
Instagram comics are a medium combining the closed frame of newspaper comics with the “page turn” of traditional print comics. They combine the strengths of both genres, being easy to read while retaining the ability to shock or surprise.
And the one I strongly encourage you to read today is: Problem Child.
Overview
Written and illustrated by Brian LS, Problem Child is an ensemble tragedy centered on generational trauma. The story follows a teenage girl, Amber Bailey, as she deals with a pair of parents that would make the most seasoned therapist grimace.
Scott Bailey, Amber’s workaholic father, spends the early parts of the comic trying to get his struggling telecommunications company off the ground, sacrificing his family in order to provide for them. A “Nice Guy”, Scott’s optimistic responsibility falls away to reveal a selfish neglect of Amber which becomes more apparent the closer he gets to his dream. Sandra Bailey is Amber’s standard alcoholic mother, waitressing at a diner and taking her pain out on those close to her – reserving special venom for her daughter. Incredibly caustic, Sandra retains a firm grip on the “villain” spot in the story…until her past rises from the dead.
Here is where the comic really comes into its own. From the nucleus of this dysfunctional family grows a dysfunctional community, branching out to explore the lives of the Baileys’ friends, parents, coworkers, lovers, etc. This extended cast covers every traumatic topic including suicide, cults, running away, adoption, murder, infidelity, witness protection, terminal disease, corporate espionage, parental death, and the classic Neopolitan mix of physical, sexual, and emotional abuse.
Problem Child avoids the dramatic twists and turns these subjects typically bring in favor of using them to agitate characters, create fresh dynamics, and explore topics. Antagonists in one story become protagonists in their own story, only to become supporting characters in another. Now, this would be a complicated dreadful mess if not for Brian LS emphatic handling of the theme.
Problem Child is built on the theme “despite your circumstance, you define yourself and your identity” while being empathetic to just how hard that can be in practice. Most of the cast receive an “End Card” upon completion of their arc: symbolic splash pages illustrating a character’s inner world as they settle into their new status quo. Some of them rise, some dig their rut deeper, and some merely get a “do-over” but all feel earned, shaped by the respective character’s journey through the story.
So if you want to read an ensemble piece with several satisfying well–earned conclusions, that handles very tough topics with an empathic hand with a varied cast you are doomed to identify with …then you should binge Problem Child right now.