In the woods of Nova Scotia, Drew is building a cabin. Save for the company of their dog, Pony, Drew is alone—a fact that everyone seems to have an opinion or an assumption about, much to Drew’s exasperation. But Drew is determined to live their dream life in their cabin, so they go to work, accepting help from local men to chain saw the trees on their property.
Sans chain saw, Drew is unassuming and a little awkward. But rev the engine, and they become the fiery Vera Bushwack, resplendent in assless chaps astride a noble steed, chain saw brandished like a sword. Drew can’t always be Vera, though, and when they aren’t working, they cycle through memories—some of kindness, some uglier.
Sig Burwash’s debut graphic novel, Vera Bushwack, is about self-love, queer comfort and the importance of learning to trust again after trauma. Despite its vibrant cover image, Vera Bushwack is a quiet book. Much of the story is relayed without dialogue, through surreal memory reels and montages of Drew and Pony’s new life, which are at turns hilarious and heartbreaking.
Burwash’s illustrations are endearing and strange, even off-putting at times, which complements Drew’s story perfectly. Sparse black sketches over muted, monochromatic backgrounds capture a sense of space and isolation while also telling an incredibly intimate story. One of Burwash’s biggest strengths as an artist is facial expressions; Pony, who is all ears and tongue, is simply a delight, while Drew’s emotional range, from blasé to maniacally gleeful, is something to behold.
Readers may be surprised to learn that the book is a debut, not only because of the clear skill it displays, but also because it feels so lived in. That’s a testament to Burwash’s talent. Vera Bushwack is sure to be a meditative balm for any queer person who sees themself in Drew—or in Vera.
