SEÑORITA EARTHQUACK
The Daring Duck of Love, and Inspiration. With a Few Thoughts on the Flourishing of the Species
The name was born in a moment of mistranslation. While walking along with his girlfriend, my collaborator spotted a duck. The multilingual woman called it an EARTHQUACK and so the idea was planted.
All SEÑORITA EARTHQUACK stories follow roughly the same format. In the beginning, a character is introduced. This character is usually a downtrodden individual, bullied by others or assayed by the cruelty of life. Then, “arbitrary Miss Earthquack” is introduced performing some extraordinary feat (teaching a master class, playing chess, smoking weed in Snoop Dogg’s basement). WHEN SUDDENLY, for “no apparent reason” she bursts through the ceiling of the place where she is and into the larger narrative. There is a moment of uncertainty, as the character beholds their potential savior, only to be resolved in the 7th panel, which usually features a large image of the main character, smiling or otherwise willing to help.
SENORITA EARTHQUACK does not speak. Her “quacks” are usually laden with emotional content that provide the meanings necessary to the character she wishes to help. It is also noteworthy that the assistance she provides to the character is rarely more than inspirational, and rarely are their larger issues resolved. The comic ends with a relevant quote by Frida Kahlo, usually accompanying a small “painting” that SE is executing–she herself portrayed holding a paintbrush in the foreground.
There is perhaps a satire of self-help gurus here, as well as an obvious send-up of the formulaic nature of superhero comics. Señorita Earthquack does not offer precise advice, nor (usually) material assistance, relying instead on others to understand and take comfort in her presence. The precise semantics of language are replaced by emotional affect–and this affect is usually deemed sufficiently powerful in itself to help the protagonists overcome their own self-doubts, and problems.
There is a second genre of SE comics: one where the introductory character is not sympathetic and downtrodden, but powerful and malevolent. These villains can be either and ethereal and fantastic (such as the legendary “kitten-smasher”) or figures from real life (such as the prosperity gospel preacher Joel Osteen). Usually, these figures are behaving out of a reckless desire for monetary gain, preying upon others heedless of the consequences outside their own enrichment. Here, SE comes not with words of comfort, but with violence. With a style reminiscent of Golden Age comics she punches or kicks her adversaries into submission.
As with her treatment of the more “sympathetic” characters there is no resolution in these acts. There is no sign that Joel Osteen, for instance, learns from his beating at the hands of the daring duck. Perhaps the message is that, even as SE’s symbolic acts redeem the sympathetic characters in their own eyes, rather than improving the material conditions around them, so SE’s fury at the horrors of the world will provide us with the determination we need to arrest such greed, and cruelty.
Of course, some comics do not fit neatly into either category. One of these is especially worthy of mention: the “War Gods” comic. Here, as with the “villain” arcs, a bleak situation is called upon and malevolent forces take action. These figures, drawn from the mythologies of Greece, Rome, Scandinavia and Egypt, behold the horrors of the world and respond like hammers, to whom everything is a nail. They, rather predictably, choose war. Here Señorita Earthquack, coming upon these sulfuric figures from the collective unconscious, would be expected to respond with violence, but she does not. With a simple, comical *QUACK* she inspires the gods to laugh. This, the comic implies, mollifies the deities and removes the danger.
And perhaps this is the point–if there is one beyond the “arbitrary” holes in the ceiling or semantically dubious *Quacks.* If Gerald Bear satirizes the grimdark nature of society, SE holds up a vision of whimsy and delight, in which creativity and love can persevere over horror and sorrow. This should be treated as less fanciful than you might suppose: a million years or more of human activity, filled with depravity and pointless suffering, have caused us to find resilience in ourselves. This resilience has often been tested, and often been broken—but we have endured thus far, laughing and moving forward relentlessly. If we do attain the stars, we will bring with us at least a good measure of fancy, and whimsy. And if we do survive beyond the present dangers that face the planet, it will be in large part with a healthy dose of love, delivered unlooked-for and unexpectedly, as if a heroic duck crashed through our ceiling, and gave us what was ours all along.