Today we introduce a new feature here at Smash Pages featuring two comic creators talking about specific topics –like, in today’s feature, monsters.
Picture + Panel is a monthly conversation series that brings fantastic graphic novel creators to the Greater Boston area. Each conversation explores a specific topic, ranging from the fun and exciting to the strange or serious. Produced in partnership by the Boston Comic Arts Foundation, Porter Square Books and the Boston Figurative Arts Center, Picture + Panel provides thought-provoking discussions for the unique form of expression that is the comics medium.
We’re happy to bring some of that discussion online in advance of each session. Next Monday Tina Lugo and Marjorie Liu will visit the Boston Figurative Arts Center in a Q&A moderated by author Sara Farizan. You can find more details on the event here.
Tina Lugo is an international tattooer and illustrator living in Providence, Rhode Island with her dog, Lou. She is the creator of The Changeling graphic novel series, published by Silver Sprocket. Tina’s work is heavily influenced by 90s manga and anime with a focus on queerness and Taíno representation.
Marjorie Liu is an attorney and New York Times bestselling novelist and comic book writer. Her work at Marvel includes the series X-23, Black Widow, Han Solo, Dark Wolverine and Astonishing X-Men. She is also the co-creator of Monstress from Image Comics, which has won multiple Hugo Awards, British Fantasy Awards, Harvey Award and five Eisner Awards, making Liu the first-ever woman—and woman of color—to win an Eisner in the Best Writer category.
Big thanks to Gina Gagliano and Jason Viola, who organize the monthly series in Boston and brought this Q&A series to Smash Pages!
How did you get interested in monsters?
Tina Lugo: At a young age, I was always interested in fantasy as I’m sure most kids are. Animorphs and the idea of shape shifting, movies like Underworld and Blade, were widely popular and caught my attention. Even in early animes of the 90’s, monsters were captured in beautifully drawn scenes and had complex narratives. Or with the standard “monster of the week” type shows like Power Rangers and ThunderCats, it’s hard to not be surrounded by them in some capacity. They were very influential to my early years. And probably the one that forever changed me was Alien and Aliens. Both have had a monumental impact on me.
Marjorie Liu: Probably the same way as many others — childhood imagination plus a passion for folklore and mythology. But to me, growing up, the monsters were almost always more interesting than the heroes. I really wanted to know their stories, why they chose to terrorize humans, if they could change and do something else with their lives. With a few exceptions, there was always something a little tragic about them, and in my young imagination I wanted to be the protagonist who made friends with monsters. I was a deeply optimistic kid! Though frankly, I haven’t changed all that much. I still want to understand those folkloric monsters, but now I have a better sense of how they embody societal fears and prejudices.
Why did you start making comics about monsters?
Marjorie Liu: I’ve been exploring monstrosity for the last 20 years, beginning with my career as a paranormal romance novelist, later at Marvel Comics when I wrote the X-Men — and now with Monstress and Night Eaters. Historically, monstrousness was associated with evil bodies and evil acts and was often a way communities scapegoated and othered those they feared. Not a lot has changed — to be monstered is to be dehumanized — and history is filled with terrible wars, horrific acts, that begin with people dehumanizing others and creating narratives of monstrosity, of “us against them.” It’s shocking how easy it becomes to justify the inhumane.
But it’s also more personal for me. I grew up in a mixed race family, and I’ve witnessed the damage caused by the casual cruelty of racism and xenophobia. Seeing my father quietly endure discrimination and caricatures at his workplace—demeaning depictions meant to dehumanize him—and having to deal with racism myself — made me acutely aware that though he and I were not “monstrous” (in the broad sense of the word), for others we were, or could be, simply because of our race.
The question is, how does one overcome those narratives that encourage us to forget our common humanity? How do we become humane to one another, and remember to treat each other with dignity and grace, and open-heartedness? How do we align compassion with curiosity?
I think we do this by creating counter-narratives — and comics offer a uniquely expressive medium for readers to confront and empathize with monstrosity as a metaphor for difference, alienation, and longing for acceptance.
Tina Lugo: I always loved a good villain. But what I also found is that monsters were always widely misunderstood. Whether they are perceived as actual beasts or subhuman, or it’s a reflection of desires and behaviors that we rebuke ourselves, I think we give them a bad wrap. Not all monsters are good, but not all are evil either. I think they also allow for a lot of exploration and creativity. I would think of many series in the Marvel universe including X-Men, Nightcrawler always being my favorite, and a lot of their stories were dealing with identity. I wanted more of that. I wanted to speak to how our differences in identity really shaped the world we lived in and also how we work through those internal struggles, often making mistakes along the way. Does that make you a monster? How do we define monsters? I always found that to be the good, juicy stuff, to explore and comics are a great format for that.
How are monsters integrated into your work?
Tina Lugo: My main character, Luth in The Changeling, is dealing with being considered a “monster.” She comes from a species of Lycans aka werewolves that have lost their ability to shapeshifter over time, mainly due to mixing more with humans and many shunning their old gods and ways of life. In her clan, she’s seen as a slow “bloomer,” as her tail hasn’t even grown in yet, which is a mark of being an adult. She learns about how she is the last of her kind that retains the ability to shapeshift through the power of an old deity that is linked to her very soul. This god is not always neutral. They can be quite cruel and sometimes violent and this can be at odds with Luth’s nature as she learns what embracing this might entail. And she struggles against it, wanting to be a better person, embracing values that don’t align with a very black and white vision of this deity — as many religions can be. She starts to question all the grey areas and what it means to be herself. The idea of “herself” was always seen as a monster and something to be ashamed of by others, and for the first time she gets to decide what that means for her own life.
Marjorie Liu: As Kippa says in Monstress, “They call us monsters because it makes it easier to hurt us. But monsters are people, too.”
That one quote sums up the thematic core of all my stories. My monsters — human or supernatural — embody those who have been dehumanized through suffering and survival — a dehumanization that comes from families, society, or their own perceptions of themselves. No matter how they appear, from the tentacled Cthulu-esque old god to the beautiful superhero mutant, these characters are mirrors reflecting deep wounds, characters who just want to hurt less, and be understood a little more.
What’s your favorite thing about monsters?
Marjorie Liu: Their capacity to challenge and redefine what we see as normal or acceptable. Monsters push boundaries, force us to reconsider our own humanity, and prejudices. They’re a powerful storytelling device that compels readers to question their perceptions and hopefully find empathy where it’s least expected. Ultimately, monsters reveal the monstrosity of the society that despises them. They aren’t just external threats — they’re reflective of deep fears, prejudices, and anxieties. Monsters are, as the saying goes, us.
Tina Lugo: Their complexity. But often how they are created by our own flaws as people. Like Godzilla, being made from our own ecological mistakes and poor treatment of the environment. Or some monsters like Frankenstein being made into existence by our own hubris. Monsters are always a mirror to us, and remind us that it’s not their fault that they exist, but as humans we cannot help but keep creating them.
What’s your least favorite monster?
Marjorie Liu: Monsters that are flat, one-dimensional, depicted without nuance—purely destructive creatures lacking meaningful depth, or character. To me, the most compelling monsters are complex — even at their worst, they illuminate something profound and contradictory about human nature.
Tina Lugo: I play a lot of D&D, so I would have to say a Golem. They are terrifyingly strong and can wipe out your entire party pretty easily if you aren’t prepared. I truly hate fighting against a golem.
What misconceptions have you found people have about monsters?
Tina Lugo: That their actions aren’t always irrational. Bram Stroker’s Dracula is one of my favorites as he does things that we might expect a monster to do, as is his nature. But he also is trying to get back is one, true undying love. Would you do “monstrous” things if you lived for eternity and were fighting to bring back your beloved? I might.
Marjorie Liu: By reducing monsters to mere villains, we overlook their complexity and miss an opportunity to understand the underlying societal forces that label and create them. Unless someone has committed an actual criminal act, it’s easy to forget that our ideas of monstrosity are frequently imposed—constructed by society to justify exclusion, harm, or dehumanization.
For instance, in Monstress, Maika and the Arcanics are labeled monsters as a justification for exploitation and genocide — monstrosity, weaponized. This happens in our own world, again and again. America, for example, created a narrative of monstrosity against the Japanese during WWII because they were our enemies. But that narrative was quickly rewritten after the war, so much so that it’s difficult to remember how powerfully our own Japanese-American citizens were vilified, and how that led to them losing all their civil rights and property, and being mass-incarcerated in camps here on American soil.
Are there other media about monsters that have inspired your work?
Marjorie Liu: Absolutely. Jim Henson’s Labyrinth and Guillermo del Toro’s films—particularly Pan’s Labyrinth—have inspired me with their empathetic portrayal of monsters and complex morality. Classic folklore (Beauty and the Beast), mythological traditions from various cultures, literary works like Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. I love stories that focus on monsters as tragic, compelling figures — who also reflect broader truths about humanity and how our shortsightedness and lack of compassion harms us as much as it harms the “monster” being attacked. But I’m also fascinated by examples of abject monstrosity, the kind in John Carpenter’s The Thing, for example.
Tina Lugo: A lot of manga for sure but I think Princess Mononoke is one of my biggest influences. That these beasts are seen as gods and through that, their actions (whether deemed justified or not) are still godly. The way they move in this world and how humans are at odds with them. Ashitaka and San being the only ones who allow these beasts to be themselves and follow their nature. Again, it’s the complexities of these relationships that really matter.
If you could recommend one other graphic novel about monsters to people who love your work, what would it be (and why)?
Tina Lugo: Vampire Hunter D. I think there’s a little bit of him in Luth. D is such an extraordinary character, who has to live is life as this “in between.” He’s a dhamphir, aka half human, half vampire. He inherited the benefits of both, but also the blood lust which he fights internally all the time. He outlives most mortals and can never fully enjoy love or companionship but he desperately wants to protect humans from monsters and evil beings. I think anyone wanting a good story and a complex character mixed with the absolute beauty of Yoshitaka Amano’s work, would be wise to consider this series.
Marjorie Liu: I would recommend anything by Emily Carroll. Carroll’s eerie, beautifully illustrated tales combine classic horror and fairy-tale elements — her stories are super atmospheric and she’s so deft with her explorations of monstrosity, fear, and the uncanny. I love her psychological horror, and her monstrous figures are haunting and terrifying in the most thought-provoking ways.