Memoir Archives | Tales from Absurdia

Ginseng Roots By Craig Thompson

June 30, 2025 by John @ Tales from Absurdia

Title: Gingseng Roots
Author: Craig Thompson
Pages: 448
Published by: Faber (2025)

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Ginseng Roots is a memoir-meets-agriculture graphic novel by award-winning comic book writer Craig Thompson.

So, when it landed on my doorstep, I was really curious. On the one hand, I adore memoir writing whilst on the other, I know next to nothing about farming – let alone ginseng.

I’ll hold my hands up and admit that whilst I’ve enjoyed the majority of the graphic novels I’ve read, I’m hardly a seasoned reader of the form.

And though I was vaguely familiar with Craig Thompson, this was my first time I’ve read his work.

But after this one, it’s safe to say I’ll be picking up more of his writings. A big thanks to the team at Faber creators for sending this copy over.

A window into the past

At its core, Ginseng Roots is a globe-trotting memoir shaped around Thompson’s relationship with class, childhood, and illness. And it’s the titular Wisconsin root that links these themes together.

First, we learn about the origins of the ginseng trade in lockstep with Thompson’s upbringing, as Craig and his brother Phil work the fields. For this, each brother receives a small stipend (just $1!) that they immediately splurge on comics.

Comics are the thing that brings the Thompson boys together, and for hours between the brutal work in the fields, they pore over Marvel and Star Wars issues.

Time passes by and there’s a clear tension between who they are now, versus who they were then. Thompson is (obviously) now a comic book writer, living on the West Coast. Phil is a city boy with a city boy job, on a city joy salary.

Returning to Marathon, Wisconsin to visit his ailing father, Craig reflects on this contrast with their blue collar upbringing. Less through a lens of nostalgia and more on how much has changed in their family.

In Wisconsin, the world has moved on too – though not quite in the way the boys have. Family farms are gobbled up by corporates, local youths are replaced by cheaper, more amenable foreign workers, and previously lucrative arable work no longer pays well.

And in this vacuum, reactionary politics takes hold. It’s in this respect that Ginseng Roots works well as a political commentary, critiquing the incestuous relationship between corporate power and political interest – including an extraordinary deal between Trump and the controversial Foxconn that, in the end, never materialised.

A word on the art

Ginseng Roots is a long book; it’s visually complex and packed with detail. Panes are richly populated with the delightful use of red, adding another dimension to the black and white illustrations. And I’ll probably need to read it another couple of times to experience more.

That’s not to say it’s inaccessible – you can absolutely follow the narrative with ease. But like most graphic novels with a literary bent, Ginseng Roots is a book that you’ll get more out of, the more time you put into it.

The pacing can be a little inconsistent. It was originally published in twelve separate issues, released five years apart between 2019 and 2024. And as with any serialisation, turning it into one volume can be a little jarring – especially with the constant hopping back and forth in time.

Still, the scope is impressive, covering history from Chinese myth, and the colonisation of indigenous America, through to the Hmong people of the Vietnam war and the first term of Donald Trump’s presidency.

Conclusion

Ginseng Roots is a surprisingly emotional exploration of family and forgiveness.

Whereas Blankets is Craig Thompson’s memoir on his upbringing, exploring a childhood trauma in a highly religious rural American community, Ginseng Roots feels like the balm – appropriately given the supposed healing nature of the root.

This isn’t a cure for that childhood, but it’s a step towards understanding and forgiveness. Two decades have now passed since Blankets was released — and Craig’s latest entry feels soberly reflective.

Beautifully written, the closing pages are particularly emotional, tying up the novel in an appropriately thoughtful manner.

And with the deep roots of family and the plant itself intertwining, this is a graphic novel that will easily leave a lasting impression on any fan of the medium.

Rated 4 out of 5

It’s Lonely at the Centre of the Earth By Zoe Thorogood

April 16, 2025 by John @ Tales from Absurdia

Lonely at the Centre of the Earth Zoe Thorogood review

“This book was not supposed to exist.”

Title: It’s Lonely at the Centre of the Earth
Author: Zoe Thorogood
Pages: 196
Published by: Image Comics (2022)

Content warning: This novel includes (very) direct references to suicide and self-harm

Fresh off the success of The Impending Blindness of Billie Scott, Zoe Thorogood was a rising star in the comic book industry, on the cusp of her big break — and then COVID hit. It’s Lonely at the Centre of the Earth documents the six-month period of her life during this time.

Feeling an imposter, and uncomfortable with ‘the future of comics’ moniker hanging over her head, this autobiographical meta-narrative is a heady cocktail of dark humour, messy mental health days, and a unique look into the mind of a talented but troubled writer.

In fact, It’s Lonely at the Centre of the Earth ‘was not meant to exist’ in a final, published form — but thank god it does.

A portrait of the artist as a young woman

The blending of art styles within It’s Lonely at the Centre of the Earth is where things get really fascinating.

It’s intentionally disruptive of its own form, with Thorogood experimenting with a combination of real photos, manga-style versions of herself, and her own uniquely identifiable art style that blends the best of western and east-Asian influences. And when these styles overlap on the same page — often crossing into the same pane — it’s pure, creative magic.

The tone of the novel will divide readers. It’s about mental health from the perspective of several versions of the same person. Readers’ mileage will vary with how much they wish to engage with this and — content warning — there is a lot of discussion of suicidal thoughts and self-harm within. Some readers may find this heavy going.

It’s self-deprecating and cynical, punctuated with the awkward bedfellow of manic joy, before the black dog descends and swallows her up. And that perspective of self-sabotage and the feeling of being taken hostage by your own self bleeds through onto the page through some vivid and truly impressive uses of illustration.

However, it’s important to note that It’s Lonely at the Centre of the Earth does all this without glamourising suffering.

But it’s also hilarious, uplifting even in parts, albeit in flat-out deadpan and self-referential ways. Thorogood directly addresses the reader throughout, calling out critics — like this one — for the simpering praise showered upon her, and even ‘scraps’ the novel half-way through.

Trust me, it’s one you’ll need to see to believe — it’s brilliant. In short, this is meta-(non)fiction at its best.

Conclusion

It’s Lonely at the Centre of the Earth is a stellar piece of writing, and a prime example of what the graphic novel genre can offer in the hands of a talented writer and illustrator.

The tone may not jive with every reader. It’s dark and brooding at times, and there’s a lot of introspection on behalf of the author. But this is a memoir, so it’s inherently self-reflective. And a very good memoir at that.

With shades of Catcher in the Rye, Zoe and Holden both sharing a prickly sensitivity towards inauthenticity, It’s Lonely at the Centre of the Earth is a phenomenal read and a modern classic of the graphic novel genre. Go buy a copy.

Rated 5 out of 5

What it Feels Like for a Girl Book Review

May 21, 2022August 14, 2021 by John @ Tales from Absurdia

Paris Lees is a journalist, model, and now a published author.

Known for being the first transgender columnist for Vogue, What if Feels Like for a Girl is a memoir of her formative years in Hucknall, Nottingham. It’s even written in a Hucknall dialect!

Paris Lees’ book is remarkable. It’s an uplifting and empowering memoir of self-identity. It’s smart, witty, and authentic. However, it’s also filled with immense sadness, including stories of physical & emotional abuse.

There are very few books that make you want to laugh, cry, despair, cringe, and shout out for joy all in one chapter, but What It Feels Like for a Girl is one of them.

Overview: What it Feels Like for a Girl

Through chapters named after popular songs at the time (feel good inc. / smack my bitch up / scream if you wanna go faster, etc…), Paris recounts her experiences through the prism of Byron – named after Nottingham’s own son, Lord Byron.

From being beaten up in Hucknall town centre for being a ‘poof’, to her wild nights in Nottingham with the Fallen Divas, eventual imprisonment, and beyond – the book charts her awakening as Paris in a lucid, highly self-aware way.

Numerous times, Byron – and then Paris – reflects upon why they can’t simply be treated as they are, rather than who society wants them to be.

Through What It Feels Like for a Girl, Paris holds a mirror up to the world, highlighting its treatment of trans people and, of course, what it means to be a girl.

Why What it Feels Like for a Girl Isn't A Trans Memoir

Both in newspaper articles, and in an excellent discussion on Owen Jones’s podcast, Paris has expressed frustration at the expectations surrounding this book.

Many (not unreasonably, to be fair) expected it to be a trans memoir, covering all of the details surrounding her transition.

Her point is that Michelle Obama’s memoir isn’t a ‘woman book’, nor is David Cameron’s memoir a ‘man book’, so why should hers be a ‘trans book’?

It’s a fair point and well made.

But if this is not a trans memoir, discussing the ins-and-outs of Paris’s transition, then what is it?

Well, it’s the story of a working class East Midlands family coming to terms (or not) with the fact that their child is trans.

It’s about Paris discovering her own identity, embracing it, and posing incisive, critical questions about British society’s tolerance of trans people in the early 2000s.

And it’s about female empowerment and Paris taking control of her life.

Lots of love has gone into writing of What It Feels Like for a Girl, and it shows.

Conclusion

What It Feels Like for a Girl is is a terrific book, and I’d strongly urge any of my readers to pick up a copy.

It presents a lens for which a reader, of any background, can get a glimpse into the LGBTQ+ experience in the late ’90s / early ’00s East Midlands. In this respect, it makes for a highly educational book, fostering empathy and understanding in the reader.

I grew up in Nottingham too, living there for 25 years of my life though admittedly on the more privileged end of the city. And in this respect, What It Feels Like for a Girl has given me a fresh perspective on a place I thought I knew inside-out – and that’s quite special.

To conclude, this is an excellent memoir. It’s a tough read at times, and the content can be quite distressing, but it remains an inspirational piece of writing and an essential read.

Rated 5 out of 5

Paris Lees’ What It Feels Like for a Girl is available to buy at Bookshop.org.