The Aya story began two decades ago, when Marguerite Abouet, a Parisian legal assistant with roots in Ivory Coast, got together with Clément Oubrerie, an animator and children’s book illustrator, to produce a graphic novel inspired by her African childhood. That book eventually became a bestselling series, one loved and acclaimed for its vivid portrayal of life in Ivory Coast in the 1970s, a period during which the country experienced an economic boom. Since translated into 15 languages, it made both Abouet and her creation, Aya, comics superstars.
And now they’re back. Twelve years after the last book was published, Abouet and Oubrerie have returned with Aya: Claws Come Out, in which our heroine and her crowd are now well on their way to adulthood. And the good news is that their adventures are as bewitching as ever. If this new volume is frequently very funny, it’s also sharp: here, for instance, are a couple who don’t know whether to be more alarmed by their gay son or their unnervingly literate toddler grandson (either way, neither must be spoken of in front of their neighbours – or not until a traditional doctor has been consulted). It’s the 1980s now, and while life’s still good for many in Abidjan, Ivory Coast’s cosmopolitan capital, corruption is rising, whether we’re talking about dodgy pastors-cum-businessmen or unscrupulous university authorities.
Fans of the Aya books love their episodic soapiness, and in Claws Come Out (translated by Edwige-Renée Dro) there is as much going on as ever. Aya is now an intern at a legal firm where she faces inequality in all its guises, while her friend Adjoua, who runs a food stall, is busy worrying both about her preternaturally gifted baby son, Bobby, and the departure from home of her brother, Albert, after he inadvertently revealed his sexuality to their horrified parents. Both women, meanwhile, are feeling a bit prickly about the third member of their trio, Bintou, who has become a celebrity thanks to her success on a TV show, and hangs out with them only rarely now (she wants to make it in the movies next, so long as she can do so without having to take off all of her clothes). Grégoire, who previously tricked Bintou into believing he was a rich Parisian, has been released from prison and is working for the wealthy Mr Sissoko. Finally, another plot line is set thousands of miles away in Paris, where Innocent is living with his beloved Sébastian, and desperately trying to get his papers to avoid deportation. Will M Mitterand save him? He’s about to find out.
Catching up with the gang requires a bit of concentration; newcomers should certainly read the earlier Aya books before they pick up Claws Come Out. But such hectic storylines are, like its characters’ feminist sass and distinctive wit, one of this series’ great pleasures – and Oubrerie, whose strips are as gorgeous-looking as ever, does all he can to help. What a brilliantly expressive and detailed cartoonist he is; every page is a joy. I love both the book’s endpapers, inspired by African fabrics, and its “Ivorian bonus” – an appendix that includes a recipe for garba, a stew for (or so we are told) “any serious man” who wants to please a girl.
Aya: Claws Come Out by Marguerite Abouet and Clément Oubrerie (translated by Edwige-Renée Dro) is published by Drawn and Quarterly (£18.99). To support the Guardian and Observer order your copy at guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply
