The cover of Beth Hetland’s Tender from Fantagraphics is exactly the kind of artwork a reader wants to see before diving into a psychological thriller. In stark yellow, pink and blue, a grubby hand with cracked nails reaches into a doll house. Picture-perfect smiles are painted on the still peg dolls depicting a nuclear family: mum, dad, baby and cat. But the cat is knocked over on the floor, the tablecloth is dripping blood and the smile on the mum’s face is far too wide and forced. Horrifying and intriguing all at once, with the title and artwork completely juxtaposing, meet protagonist Caroleanne’s deepest desire: a perfect family.
The eeriness emanating from the cover only increases inside – sketched in cobalt blue, a woman sits alone in a flat, cradling her pregnant belly and singing. But something is off here – whether it’s the matted hair, the crazed look in her eye, or the fact that her bump looks ready to pop, the sense of unease is debilitating. And temporary, because after only two pages of these sinister panels, we’re transported to ‘earlier’ – and earlier seems normal. A regular, suburban couple are trying for a baby, and they are very excited about it. Much appreciated are Hetland’s sketches of realistic bodies in these short scenes – there’s no sexualisation, and no movie-standard gravity-defying breasts or rock-hard pecs. Just a regular couple, who are comfortable in their bodies and with each other. A baby is conceived soon after, and, heavily pregnant and content to go on maternity leave, our protagonist Carolanne and her partner seem completely satisfied – yet the colour palette is screaming warnings at the reader to pay attention to the blood in the steak they cut into, so brutally contrasting with the otherwise completely calm blue colouring.
Foreshadowing abounds in the following wordless panels; a burning building, a mosquito brutally birthing another, skin being peeled from fingers, a shadowy figure lurking – it’s a grotesque and confusing dream sequence from which our protagonist awakes in a cold sweat, but what does it all mean? As events start to unfold, Carolanne quickly becomes bored with the home routine – we see her daily humdrum of baking, washing, cleaning etc multiple times, each time her smile slightly more faded. Eventually, each panel becomes smaller and smaller until there are tens of tiny, nondescript panels of the same motif, repeated over and over again.
As we discover more about Carolanne’s past, we learn about her sinister obsessiveness with having a nuclear family, and her uncontrollable jealousy for those around her who already have that. Her disturbing tendencies reflect her state of mind, stalking her future partner, rehearsing a toothy grin for social interactions, self-mutilation and cannibalism and her penchant for very disturbing dreams. The dream panels in particular are uncanny and distressing – I wanted to look away in disgust, but I was riveted, held captive. A threatening recurring motif was an upwards-facing shot of a close-up of Carolanne – her soulless eyes and sinister half-smile are terrifying, and so effective.
Tender is big on body horror, a trope often associated with male creators, so it’s fantastic to see Hetland wading into the gore of it all and making it her own. The visceral feeling of disgust and terror stays with the reader throughout as Hetland comments on female sexuality, gender roles, toxic internet culture and societal expectations placed upon women; it is ultimately this need for perfect agency over her life and jealousy over the airbrushed selfies of others that begins Carolanne’s spiral, ending in an abundance of gore.
I could not put this down and was hooked and on the edge of my seat from start to finish. Completely horrifying, completely disturbing and completely brilliant.
Beth Hetland (W/A) • Fantagraphics, $19.99
Buy online from Gosh! Comics here
Review by Lydia Turner
