Minor Arcana #17 — Jeff Lemire Takes Us Deeper Into the Liminal Space

Jeff Lemire’s Minor Arcana continues its haunting exploration of grief and memory. In issue #17, Missy and Theresa journey through the Liminal Space, confronting a turbulent past that threatens to derail their search for answers about Brad.

There’s a specific kind of quiet that lives in Jeff Lemire’s work, a stillness that feels less like peace and more like held breath. In Minor Arcana, that atmosphere isn’t just a mood; it’s the landscape. We’ve been following Theresa and Missy as they navigate the strange, dreamlike borders between worlds, and now they’re diving deeper. It’s a visceral, emotional plunge that demands you pay attention to every shadow on the page.

The premise here is deceptively simple but emotionally heavy. Missy needs answers about Brad, and the only place to find them is the Liminal Space. But this isn’t a straightforward trip. As they travel, the boundaries of memory blur. The past isn’t just background noise; it’s an active participant. Theresa and Missy’s history is fraught with complications, and as they push further into the unknown, those old wounds reopen, making the journey far more dangerous than either of them anticipated.

What makes this issue such a vital pickup is Lemire’s dual role. As both writer and artist, he controls the pacing with a painter’s eye for composition and a storyteller’s instinct for silence. The art here does the heavy lifting of conveying grief and disorientation without needing excessive dialogue. It’s a masterclass in visual storytelling, where the expression on a character’s face or the emptiness of a panel tells you more than words ever could.

This series has been building a unique vocabulary of loss and connection, and issue #17 feels like a pivotal moment where those themes collide. If you’ve been enjoying the atmospheric dread and the complex relationship between the protagonists, this is where the stakes truly rise. It’s less about supernatural mechanics and more about how we carry our history with us when we try to move forward.

I’m keeping an eye on the main cover for this one. Lemire’s illustrations often have a textured, almost tactile quality that stands out on the rack. It’s the kind of book you want to hold, not just read. Trust me on this one — it’s a haunting, beautiful piece of work that lingers long after you’ve turned the last page.