Those foreigners and their cool comics!

Always Never by Jordi Lafebre (writer/artist/colorist), Clémence Sapin (colorist), Montana Kane (translator), and Cromatik Ltd. (letterer).

Published by Dark Horse, cover dated August 2022 (the original was published in 2020).

Romances are difficult to pull off, because everyone knows how they end. Sure, you can say that about a lot of stories — most of us read (or have read) a lot of superhero stories, which all tend to end the same way — but in superhero stories, you can reach that conclusion in a lot of different ways, while in romances, your choices are usually limited. I love a good romance, though, and I appreciate it when writers try to present them in different ways. Case in point: Always Never, which is written backward.

Jordi Lafebre doesn’t write words backward, of course, or even tell each individual chapter backward. What he does is start at “Chapter 20,” with the culmination of our two principals’ lives, and then each chapter counts down to “Chapter 1” at the end of the book (which is, cleverly enough, told backward, but I’ll get to that). It’s a gimmick, sure, but it works. The dumbest part of any romance is when the writer tries to get us to believe the lovers will not get together. In this book, that’s the first chapter, so we know that any roadblocks they face along the way have already been overcome. We can then enjoy the story, as Lafebre shows us how they ended up where they did. It’s not the most unique way of doing a story, but it does work well. We don’t know anything about Zeno and Ana when we meet them in “Chapter 20,” just that they’re older and have loved each other for a long time. As we move backward in time, it becomes a story not about whether they are going to get together, but why they love each other so much. In this way, despite the fact that they spend so little time actually together, we can get a sense of what draws them together, which makes their meeting at the beginning of the book (but much later in their lives) more meaningful.

Lafebre does something interesting with the conceit, as well. The book is set in an unnamed town near the sea (presumably the Mediterranean, although it’s never confirmed), and Ana is the mayor of it for most of the book — she’s running for mayor in Chapter 3, and she leaves the office in Chapter 16, after, it seems, some decades in charge — and she oversees a significant change to the town, building a bridge the town desperately needs across the river that runs through it. Of course, the bridge is a metaphor as well as an actual bridge, but it’s a good metaphor, as Lafebre doesn’t push the figurative aspect that much. In Chapter 20, Zeno and Ana meet at one end of the bridge and walk across it, symbolizing their journey to a new stage of their lives. In Chapter 19, Zeno gets notice that his doctoral dissertation has been accepted, so he releases a jarful of moths off the bridge. In Chapter 12, Ana has to convince one of the residents of an apartment building that she needs to move because they have to knock down the building to erect the bridge. Ana tells Zeno they have to knock down his bookstore in Chapter 10, which angers him even though he hasn’t been in the town in years, but then he figures out a solution to the bridge-building problem that will save his store and more buildings. In Chapter 7, Ana has the idea for the bridge. And in Chapter 6, Zeno figures out the solution to the bridge, even though he doesn’t know it yet. Because Lafebre tells the story backward, we know the bridge gets built, so we can make the connections as they come up, and we can make the figurative leaps as well, as the bridge keeps Ana and Zeno connected even thought they’re far apart … almost as if they were on opposite shores of a river.

We get this “backward-forward” style in other ways, too, and it helps make the book deeper. When they first meet in Chapter 20, Zeno asks Ana if she’s talked to Giuseppe, and Ana tells him not to worry about it. He can infer that Giuseppe is her husband, but what does it mean? We’re immediately on Ana and Zeno’s side, because they’re so charming, but Lafebre also immediately introduces a conflict, and it makes the reader wary. In Chapter 18, we find out that Giuseppe has known about Ana’s quasi-romance with Zeno for a while, and he’s fine with it. It’s very big of him, but it’s also interesting, because he seems a bit too cool with it. As we go “backward” through time, however, we see that Ana never acted on her impulses and, in fact, spent many years with little contact with Zeno and she was always faithful to Giuseppe. In the beginning of the book, we wonder why they weren’t together all this time, and as we move backward in time, we understand that despite their attraction, they’re two very different people, and Ana couldn’t run off with Zeno and Zeno couldn’t settle down with Ana. As their lives unfurl, we understand that the end of their lives is the only time they could be together, because they’ve reached a point where it makes sense. The gimmick of telling the story backward allows us to see why they couldn’t be together at any moment but the one in Chapter 20 and it also undercuts the anger and angst readers feel when the lovers are separated by circumstance. In this case, we already know they’ll be separated but get their happy ending, so when it does come, it feels more natural. Similarly, when we first learn about Zeno’s doctoral thesis, it’s when he’s releasing the moths on the bridge in Chapter 19. In Chapter 17, we find out what he’s doing with the moths and what his dissertation is about, and while I don’t think it makes much sense, it is about time going backward, which fits in nicely with the way Lafebre presents this story. Zeno gets inspired with the moths in Chapter 13, when we already know what they inspire. Much like the other aspects of the story, it’s an interesting way to find out about things for which we already know the ending. It works well for all aspects of the book. Lafebre does some fun things with the storytelling conceit, too — at one point, Zeno can’t find his train ticket, which comes back around later (but earlier in time) in the book and is a crucial part of his and Ana’s “origin story.” It’s a neat way to show that some things don’t change, even if a lot changes for these two in the book.

The romance, of course, is central to the book, and it’s where Lafebre’s backward-storytelling works the best. One of the more annoying tropes about romances is that the people meet for a very brief time and fall madly in love, which can happen, I suppose, but feels unrealistic. It’s the classic error writers make, thinking lust equals love, and it’s made a lot of romances unrealistic and even ridiculous, as the two people don’t seem to like each other all that much but they still end up together. By presenting the book this way, we know Zeno and Ana end up together, so we can track to see how realistic their romance really is without wondering what silly way Lafebre will use to “force” them together. What makes this fascinating is that they aren’t necessarily perfect for each other, but they turn out to be quite complementary, so it works. We wonder why, if they do love each other, they haven’t been together all this time. Ana is the mayor for many years, and Zeno is seeing the world, but why did Zeno go out into the world and why did Ana stay in town? They write letters to each other and occasionally Zeno calls Ana on the phone, and we see that they have many spirited exchanges because they’re both independent and fiery, but they still respect each other and try to reach agreements with each other. They have phone conversations with each other during which they put on the same music and “dance” with each other, and at one point Ana sends Zeno a nude selfie in one of her letters. They only meet a few times before the final chapter, though, and Lafebre does a nice job with those meetings. In Chapter 11, Zeno returns to town for a night, and he meets Ana in the old botanical gardens, which have closed and will be demolished, so there aren’t any people around. It’s a beautifully-written chapter, as Ana doesn’t know if she can stand to see him, so Zeno sneaks up behind her and blindfolds her, which becomes a game to them (she blindfolds him at the end of the chapter). They discuss the many women he’s been romantically involved with, including one whom we’ll see in the “next” chapter (Chapter 10, which of course comes after this one) and why he never married, and Lafebre makes some not-subtle-at-all allusions to the passage of time, which reminds us that even though, at this point, both of them are still young, they will be old at some point, but that doesn’t mean they’re not vital. It’s a lovely caesura in their separation, and it’s also quite funny, as Lafebre never forgets that these are “real” people, so they’re not always perfect. This is the last time they meet until the very end, and it’s a nice moment. As we go back further in time, we reach Chapter 5, which is Election Day for Ana, but also the day Zeno leaves town. Ana, pregnant with her daughter (who appears in Chapter 19, disapproving of her mother’s “fling”), buys a train ticket to leave town and join Zeno, but she stays and becomes the mayor. In Chapter 4, we go a bit further back, during the campaign, they happen to meet in a restaurant after the funeral of Zeno’s father, which has brought him back to town. They have a brief argument, because each expected something from the other, perhaps because they don’t know each other all that well. Zeno thought Ana was going to leave town, while Ana thought Zeno would return. Zeno alludes to something from an earlier meeting, which we’ll, of course, find out about. Again, we know that they get over this spat, and while we don’t know what prompted it, we know that it’s minor. In a forward-moving story, it would feel much more serious, but that’s not what interests Lafebre. In Chapter 3, Ana sees Zeno at his father’s funeral, and she’s unprepared for the emotions that overwhelm her. She’s already with Giuseppe, so in Chapter 2, we find out why she accepts his marriage proposal and what it means. It makes sense, and again, in a different kind of romance, it might seem tragic, but because we already know that Ana has had a very good life, it’s not — it’s just a logical way for her to live her life. She even points out that it’s foolish to think that Zeno is the love of her life when they only spent one night together, “years ago.” What’s clever about this is that Zeno is not the love of her life, and Lafebre doesn’t pretend that he is. They might be attracted to each other, they might even love each other, but they want different things out of life, and they’re smart enough to know it. Do they make the right choices? Maybe, maybe not. But Lafebre shows that they live full lives, even if they can’t have each other. Finally, in Chapter 1 (which is actually told backward, from Zeno getting thrown into the ocean to the two of them seeing each other for the first time), we learn about their “one night” together, and Lafebre does a marvelous job telling us the story without words. We already know everything about them, so he doesn’t need words. It’s a charming way to end (start) the story.

Lafebre’s art helps the story, too, as it’s beautiful, sure, but also light and charming, making this world that Ana and Zeno inhabit feel real but also nicer than ours. It’s a world in which people might get angry at each other, as Zeno and Ana do occasionally, but because it’s essentially a good place, we know everything will work out. Lafebre begins and ends the book with, basically, the same two panels, which ties everything together well, shows how the passage of time has changed Ana and Zeno without their fundamental nature being changed, and reinforces the theme of time moving both backward and forward that Zeno postulates in his doctoral dissertation. Lafebre does a wonderful job with the geography of the town, as it’s clear he either based it on a real place or took a lot of time to map out where things are, so when we see the bridge at the end and we go backward in time, we can see where Ana wants to build it and how it fits into the bridge-less town very well, because the visuals are so precise and detailed. Like a lot of European artists (from my experience with them), he does very nice, detailed work on the non-human parts of the art, and his people, while still detailed, tend toward the cartoonish side, which is always interesting to see. This is a grounded book, from the intricate bridge to the neighborhood right around it (where Zeno’s bookstore is located) to the beautiful and occasional harrowing ocean scenes as Zeno roams the world. Into this world, Lafebre puts people who look a bit like cartoons, some with outlandish hair, some with unnervingly sharp noses (both Ana and Zeno’s noses could put your eyes out), some with outrageously large eyes. But they all fit, because Lafebre makes them wonderfully expressive and shifts their emotions excellently, so that we don’t always need their words to understand what they’re feeling. The way Ana and Zeno interact with each other is a masterclass in body language, from Chapter 20, when they’re together and comfortable with each other in their old age, to Chapter 1, when they meet and are just excited to get to know each other. In Chapter 4, when they see each other in the restaurant, Lafebre draws storm clouds hanging over them and rain coming down, symbolizing the dampening of their relationship, but he also shows in their faces how painful it is for each of them that they missed their chance. In Chapter 7, there’s a marvelous sequence when they’re speaking on the phone, Ana in her office and Zeno on a beach somewhere, and Lafebre draws them so that it appears they’re in the same place, and their faces as they yearn for that reality are wonderfully drawn. The only other character with substantial page time is Giuseppe, and Lafebre makes sure to draw him as a kind-hearted dude, so that even though we root for Ana and Zeno, we’re always aware of what Ana is doing and how it might hurt a man who didn’t ask for it. Giuseppe, as I’ve noted, might be a bit too kind-hearted, but Lafebre makes sure to show him as such, which adds a nice twinge of sadness to Ana’s reunion with Zeno at the beginning of the book. It’s a beautiful book, and the art helps make the romance more believable, which is nice.

It seems like this is Lafebre’s first writing job after several years of doing art for comics, and if so, it’s a good way to begin. It’s interesting, because Lafebre was around 40 when this was published, and it feels like the work of someone who’s been around a while, as the romance feels more grounded and mature than a lot of romances you see in fiction. Lafebre knows that it’s not always easy and it’s not always fun, but it is worth it. It’s a fine sentiment, and Always Never makes it resonate powerfully. You can it on Amazon, and, as always, if you use that link for anything, we get a piece of it, so there you go. And be sure to check out the archives for more great comics!