Today’s review is brought to you from Sequential.li, a new writing project/blog/newsletter from Fieldmouse Press’ publisher, Alex Hoffman. Readers can expect unique perspectives on publishing, reading lists of fiction and poetry, updates on the print side of Fieldmouse Press, and the occasional review (like this one). If you’re interested, check out www.sequential.li.
The first thing you need to know about Moulder is that yes, it is smut. The nip slip on the front cover (in the cleverly designed cut out) should have been your first clue. Before we jump into the comic and talk about what’s good about Moulder (yes, it is good), I wanted to talk briefly about the rise of material censorship in online spaces.
Fieldmouse Press has dealt with a fair bit of censorship, although always at the hands of our intermediary suppliers. Whether it has been depictions of sex, drug use, or just queer people living their lives, printers in China and Southeast Asia have not wanted to take a risk on our books. Draconian content laws and increasing prevalence of state control has made it much more difficult over the last 12 months to print potentially objectionable (read queer, or involving human bodies) material in these places. It is irritating, yes. It is frustrating, yes. But this is an economics problem solved by working with other suppliers. At the end of the day, having our work called “pornographic” by someone who is just trying to make sure they don’t lose their job and/or have their family disappeared is not going to ruffle my feathers that much when I can print in a more liberal country.
But Fieldmouse Press is not really in the business of making adult content. We’re making comics for adults, many of which have adult themes, but we’re not making smut. The people who make smut and other adult content? They’ve been dealing with a lot of uncertainty, gatekeeping, blacklisting, and digital gentrification, and it only seems to be getting worse over time.
I’ve been thinking about the practicalities of censorship because of all of the recent Kickstarter policy changes “announced” last week (they weren’t actually announced, they were just dropped into the FAQ documents, from what I can tell). Kickstarter is one of the many corporate entities that have previously allowed adult content to be sold and purchased, but are now dramatically scaling back access. In the United States, we talk a lot about freedom of speech and freedom of the press. The new wave of censorship doesn’t care about that – it’s not about making or printing. It’s about keeping people from being paid.
Why fight the nasty arguments about obscenity and First Amendment rulings when it’s easier to cut someone’s financial hamstrings? It’s easier to silence an artist if they can’t pay rent. That’s why modern censorship is all about the payment processors, baby. A small group of conservatives has complained enough to payment processors like Stripe and to the credit card companies to limit transactions for adult content. Marketplaces like Steam and Itch.io have purged adult-oriented games, comics, and other content to make sure their platforms aren’t blanket-banned, which would end their ability to do business on the internet. Commerce between consenting adults on the internet? Not when Big Brother VISA is involved.
This is why I think publishers like Diskette Press are so integral to our freedom of expression, especially in queer spaces. Print, and especially the type of printing that Diskette does, where they control all inputs, project specifications, and outputs, is a bastion of free expression. The exchange of physical books for physical dollars isn’t something payment processors can stop. They can’t see inside Moulder or Ironscrote to know what’s up. Cash is king – dollars can still change hands. This is one of the many reasons why I think you should be buying Diskette Press books. The creation of art like this, especially indulgent queer art, and making it available to readers all over the world is something that should be supported and funded.
Alright, let’s get off the soap box and start talking about the comics, shall we?
Moulder is, besides being a book with “18+ sloppy transgender lesbian sex,” a book about the differences between people and the attractions that bind them together. Willow is a young deliverycat who is supposed to be bringing a date to the bar, but gets rejected due to her body odor. Her amorous partner, Lauter, is an older bar owner / brewer / barmaiden, and it’s clear that the line between customer and lover is thin. The two are clearly drawn to each other, and probably have been for a while. After a little sniffing, things head to a more private space, and both characters have a chance to exchange scents, so to speak.
Production on this comic is gorgeous, and worth noting here – the precise circular apple cut out on the front cover is clever, but it’s the combination of design with the Hunter Green risograph ink and the speckled paper that really sell the idea of a book that is both modern and pastoral, a book where it makes sense that it is 1050+ years in the future and also that the setting appears to be something closer to the 1700s than current day. The paper textures and ink colors allow the book to lean into the earthiness of the storytelling, and thematically fit with the ideas of fermentation, growth, and maturation.
With a 16 page comic, you don’t have a lot of space to develop character, but I love Freya JN’s use of naming and character body language. Willow, as her name would suggest, is springy and supple, eager to please and to be pleased. Her tail and eyes snap and spark throughout the comic, while Lauter (think lauter tun, the vessel used in beer and cidermaking to separate the unfermented liquid from the solids of the mash) is mature, buxom, and more intensely aware of her own body, more intensely erotic, and more willing to take the step across one threshold and into the next.
The sex scenes are highly charged, well paced, and funny. I specifically like the way that Freya JN includes the image of the apple blossom, fertilization, and fruit development as an ongoing metaphor for sexual awakening and fulfillment alongside the more explicit sex. Moulder doesn’t hide that sex is messy and sometimes silly. The intimacy after the fact, and the expansion of the medieval futuristic setting, is a lovely finishing touch. If you want to see what I’m talking about, well, I’m not going to spoil it – you’ll have to pay to play.
Moulder is ultimately a really satisfying read. The blend of eroticism and character, the setting, design, and finally the production develop the book into something greater than the sum of its parts. Diskette Press and Freya JN remind readers with Moulder that these types of stories are worth exploring, worth telling, and worth paying for… payment processors be damned.
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