Expectations and setbacks

Inbetweens
by Faith Erin Hicks

New York: First Second, 2026
$20.99 / 9781250838742

Reviewed by Brett Josef Grubisic

*

Okay, I admit I thought of The Velveteens, The Go-Betweens, “In Between Days” (by The Cure ) and “Teen Age Riot” (by Sonic Youth) when I saw Inbetweens, the title of the appealing, thoughtful, and strikingly illustrated YA graphic novel written and drawn by Vancouver-based Faith Erin Hicks (Ride On). 

For a split-second, I envisioned a band—The Inbetweens—and its origin story, in which two teenagers who’re also feisty sisters bet on their talent when they form a band, learn the ropes, dip their toes in gender politics, and perform their semi-triumphant first gig. 

The book’s cover shows two teens who might be feisty, it’s true. But, really, there’s nothing else there to support my fantasy: the girls are surrounded by pencils and drawings and are clearly enthralled with a non-musical form of artistry: they’re avid illustrators.

And a couple of pages in, the author does provide a handy explanation for animation newbies. “Key frames” means the action in an animation, while “inbetweens” refers to the “transitions drawings between key frames, at neither the end nor the beginning of the action.” Being a teenager, in other words.

Junior high students Ash and Sloane live and breathe drawing. Locally known as the “crazy art twins,” they’re convinced there’s exactly one path to a future in which their amateur passion for animation turns into a gratifying career in animation. 

As though a sign from the universe itself, they’ve been admitted to a seven-week summer course at Ormidale College, Canada’s top-ranked animation school. (That’s a stand-in for Sheridan College in Ontario, which the internet tells me has the top-ranked actual animation program in Canada.) Ash and Sloane are ecstatic about summer school: not only will they meet artsy, like-minded kids but they’ll learn from experts whose mentorship will assure them of the future they’ve dreamed about for years. Better still, they will work directly with Douglas Frye, whose film Monstrous is their holy grail.

Despite mom’s sage advice to Ash—“Having reasonable expectations means you’re more likely to avoid disappointment in the future”—the girls’ ears are momentarily deaf. “I’m not going to be disappointed,” Ash replies, the very picture of teen obstinacy. 

And yet, and yet. During the first class, Sloane asks Ash, “Hey, do you notice something about the other students?” Turns out, Nisha is the only other girl in the class. 

From that point, disappointment rears its ugly head, and not just once.

To start, the girls wrestle with the gap between the fantasy of Ormidale College and the reality. Their pitched excitement and buoyancy of the week before (in the summer of 1999, by the way)? Deflated, soured, struggling to keep afloat. 

Initially, it’s self-doubt. At home, they’re supported by adolescent self-regard and the well-intended praise of two parents. In a classroom with equally talented—or, gasp!, more talented—peers, they’re bereft, ready to throw in the towel at the first setback. 

Plus, the classroom is competitive. Upon completion, the assigned work in shown and critiqued: there’s no little humiliation in dropping from summa cum laude to meh.  

Then there’s Douglas Frye. (One of the book’s unstated but clear themes is “Never meet your heroes.”)

Hicks approach to ‘the Frye problem’ interested me, as it wasn’t what I expected.

The villain of the piece believes he’s a good guy whose primary role is to offer guidance and mentorship to his cohort of students. Yet, he’s completely blind to his bias, which the sisters and their friend Nisha discern immediately, especially because Nisha, who is both brown-skinned and female, is routinely damned with faint praise by the professor, even when the book’s text leaves no doubt that her talent is equivalent (if not superior) to the boys the professor jokes around with, compliments, and encourages. 

There’s virtually no recourse, though. Eventually, the girls confide in another teacher, Lisa Sato, a former student. Sato empathizes with the girls and acknowledges the professor’s problematic behaviour, but instead of getting political or proactive—advising the girls, for example, to either confront the professor or to complain about him to an administrator—she merely says (to paraphrase) that in life there will be people who discourage and even hinder another’s advancement, and, well, c’est la vie and, to quote Bette Davis, “Fasten your seatbelts, it’s going to be a bumpy night!” 

Systemic bias, sexism, racism: it’s all right there but strangely undeveloped. The book ends with the girls having learned a lesson—an invaluable one—about people’s (conscious or unconscious) bad motivations and inadvertent harmful actions, and with a group short film project that reaffirms the girls’ belief in their artistic chops, but at Ormidale itself, the senior professor stays happily ensconced in his position of power and wholly unchallenged. As written, he is not chastened or apologetic or even nudged toward any kind of epiphany. Ditto for the school. Systemic, then, remains systemic.

The author’s approach to the situation she exposes might seem realistic—if not entirely inspirational—to younger readers, in a choose-your-battles kind of way. Even so, it’s hardly a call for change. People are people and institutions are institutions—as it has always been—Inbetweens suggests. Who are we to argue with or try to alter that truth?

Brett Josef Grubisic assigns, edits, and posts fiction, poetry, and children’s lit reviews for BCR; occasionally, he contributes reviews as well. [He’s written about recent books by Hetxw’ms Gyetxw, Nathan Fairbairn, Otoniya Bitek, Martin Butler, Hannah Beach and Maggie Hutchings, Zsuzsi Gartner (ed.), Jennifer Cooper, Caroline Adderson, Sunny Dhillon, Wanda John-Kehewin, Ryan O’Dowd, Michael V. Smith, David Bouchard, Alice Turski, Louise Sidley, K.J. Denny (ed.), Sonali Zohra, Carrie Anne Vanderhoop, Kristen Pendreigh, Sam Wiebe, Maureen Young, Daniel Anctil, and Adam Welch for BCR.]

*

The British Columbia Review

Interim Editors: Trevor Marc Hughes (nonfiction), Brett Josef Grubisic (fiction and poetry)
Publisher: Richard Mackie

Formerly The Ormsby Review, The British Columbia Review is an on-line book review and journal service for BC writers and readers. The Advisory Board now consists of Jean Barman, Wade Davis, Robin Fisher, Barry Gough, Hugh Johnston, Kathy Mezei, Patricia Roy, and Graeme Wynn. Provincial Government Patron (since September 2018): Creative BC. Honorary Patron: Yosef Wosk. Scholarly Patron: SFU Graduate Liberal Studies. The British Columbia Review was founded in 2016 by Richard Mackie and Alan Twigg.

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