Britten and Brülightly by Hannah Berry
Categories: Reviews
Britten and Brülightly
by Hannah Berry
Metropolitan Books
Britten and Brülightly is so good it’s hard to believe it’s Hannah Berry’s first book. Suspenseful, engrossing, beautifully painted, and extremely sad, it seems a book that should at least be Berry’s sophomore effort. Then again, she’s only 25.
Although it got some press, Britten and Brülightly, which was published in April by Metropolitan Books, seems to have sort of slipped under the radar in the U.S. Probably because it is the debut work by a little-known, 25-year-old woman who lives across the ocean in Brighton, England. But it did garner much attention and praise in the U.K., and having read it, I can safely say it deserves all of that commendation. This is undoubtedly one of the best graphic novels I’ve read in a while.
The book tells a classic noir story, following private detective Fernández Britten (who prefers the term “researcher”) as he investigates a suicide case. He has been hired by the fiancé of the deceased man, who is convinced her husband-to-be didn’t kill himself. As Britten unravels the details of the case, the situation becomes increasingly dangerous, violent, and confusing. In the end, the true story involves all the juicy bits of a good noir: blackmail, illegitimate children, more deaths, and a sad, sad truth.







As humans, we have a collective obsession with predicting the future. From utopian and dystopian novels to doomsday movies to TV programs where families drive space ships instead of cars, our concerns about the government, technology, and the unknown territory of outer space have forever driven us to guess, predict, and resolve our way into the next century. But these days, as we expedite global warming with our bad habits and the planet increasingly goes to shit, it seems like an especially pertinent time to look into the future and try to predict what’s coming—for the sake of showing people that we must try to stop (or at the very least, delay) it.
In The Country Nurse, the final installment of Jeff Lemire’s Essex County trilogy, the artist is obsessed with images—the image of the open farmland of Essex County, the image of a crow flying in front of the moon, the image of a boy growing up and learning the truth about who he is. He uses these composite images to complete a larger picture, started in the first two books in the series, of Essex County, a fictionalized version of his hometown.







