By Sophie Wiener
In the peculiar world of webcomics (comics that are published on the internet, available for free, and usually update, page by page, on a regular schedule), it is the rare comic that takes advantage of its long lifespan to build a truly layered, detailed, and plot-heavy story. And then there’s Gunnerkrigg Court, by Tom Siddell, whose bread and butter is its incredibly complex and intricate plot. How does it achieve such a wonderful feat? Let’s look at the story.
Antimony Carver is a lonely little girl who has just moved to a strange new school. Strange, in that it exists in a sprawling, mostly abandoned industrial complex that is known as “Gunnerkrigg Court.” Strange, in that it is patrolled by fully sentient robots. Additionally, the lost spirit of a lonely woman lives under a nearby, brightly-lit bridge, and she will viciously attack anyone who falls into her territory.
Strange, in that, if one were to cross the chasm on the school’s edge via said bridge, they would find themselves in a regular Forbidden Forest of fairy creatures, elves, strange beasts, and even gods.
Amongst all this oddness, Antimony remains strangely polite and stoic. At least, until she befriends her cheerful, brainy classmate, Kat, and “Annie” begins to open up. From there, the two slowly reveal themselves to be a pair of extremely kind, strong, realistically-written young women, and the story eventually develops into the adventures of the girls and an ever-growing cast of characters, quietly becoming a genre-busting mix of science-fiction, fantasy, horror, mystery, ghost stories, and romance in the process.
The creator seamlessly weaves all sorts of myths, legends, and ridiculous inventions into his plot. Anything can happen. At one point, Antimony actually touches a miniaturized Moon. From then on, you might see an enlarged version of our main character’s fingerprint on the moon at any given point throughout the story. That’s just the kind of thing that happen in Gunnerkrigg Court– the strange content of the story is presented with a face as straight as our fearless protagonist, so much so that the reader finds themselves nodding, saying, “Of course it’s possible to grow robotic flesh. Of course, it’s possible for a shadow to fall in love with a robot. Of course, it’s possible for something to be so sharp that it can pry a shadow from a floor and turn it into a three-dimensional being. Why haven’t I seen that before in a story? It’s an incredibly obvious idea.”
And yet, between these fascinating concepts and odd, episodic adventures, a coherent plot emerges. Connections are drawn between seemingly innocuous events and mysterious characters. Piece by piece, the nature of the story, which reveals it to be every bit as sprawling as Gunnerkrigg Court itself, emerges.
The end product is a story about a lot of extremely strange children growing up in an equally strange world.
The story is witty and heartbreaking, funny and fun, and endlessly creative. The friendship of the two leading ladies is a joy to behold. The art starts off shaky but quickly improves into something that becomes more stylish and creative as the creator gains experience. Overall, it’s an incredible and creative comic.