I likely will be the only person mentioning Zora Neale Hurston’s THEIR EYES WERE WATCHING GOD when reviewing this graphic novel, but it kept coming to mind. There is a passage at the heart of that wonderful book that describes humanity as once being one great glittering mass that jealous angels beat down into tiny bits of sparkle, buried and lost in the mud that still sing out and seek each other to be whole again. A lovely description of how we as humans clutch at many things to try and make ourselves whole, often to our own detriment—sometimes to our own destruction. The narrative of THEIR EYES WERE WATCHING GOD takes the main character many places, but ultimately she ends up where she started—though wiser and stronger for the journey. In LUNA PARK, this circular pattern is repeated toward no good end for its characters. While Hurston’s work retains hope despite admitting a certain futility, LUNA PARK seems only to despair. The desperation that drives it’s characters to find each other creates a dark inescapable momentum that carries them past the finish line into another lap ‘round the track. The joy in this joyless world is in the vivid rendering of the journey—particularly the dark and lovely art work of Danijel Žeželj. The subtle distinctions that make each face unique—specifically the three significant women in the narrator’s life—all dark, lovely and strong yet individuals. The whole book is a dark passage, the use of partial light throughout gives the book the feel of memory—smothered and inescapable. Enjoyed the writing as well, conveying a lot with a little. The dialogue was both natural and foreboding and aching with grief. Choices once made are often inescapable, linking personal history to moments of world history gives them the feeling of destiny. A looping narrative could feel redundant or like a trap, but each journey through LUNA PARK feels like a fresh hell.