Review of comic novel ‘Girl Juice’ by Benji Nate

The two girls, Bunny and Nana, first agree that their target, yes, gives “big dirtbag energy.” The fact that he’s still “kinda hot tho” isn’t enough. They need more evidence, which comes in the form of knuckle tattoos that read “SEX FIEND.” But that data point only proves to be more confounding: The tattoo is “either completely monstrous or very hot,” Bunny deduces. Finally, Nana asks, “How gross are his fingernails?” The next panel features two immaculately manicured hands, SEX FIEND emblazoned across them. If you’re one of the girls that Nate wrote “Girl Juice” for, you’ll be able to hear exactly the delighted pitch at which Bunny and Nana exclaim “He’s hot! He’s hot!!!”

“Girl Juice” began as a webcomic that Nate posted to her Instagram account, and it’s easy to see the internet’s ephemeral hand in the slice-of life-vignettes that make up the majority of the book. The capers that drive “Girl Juice” toggle between the relatable (finding the perfect outfit to be “hot and fun in ur ex’s eyeline”) and the ridiculous (an exorcism takes up the latter half of the book). It moves with the frenetic pace of a TikTok For You Page and there’s an irresistibly shareable quality to Nate’s depiction of the kind of intimacy that is instantly familiar to anyone who has lived with a close friend.

Nate’s winsome foursome consists of Bunny, who is unequivocally the main character — both of the book and of her life — and perhaps too aware of it. Most of the story, insofar as there is one, is driven by her crises. Most of these come in the shape of men, though there is a memorable incident when Bunny thinks the house is haunted, only for the medium she hires to conclude that the only bad vibes to be found in the house are Bunny’s own. In the parlance of the internet, Bunny is bimbo representation. But Nate never lets her readers slip into underestimating Bunny, who turns out not only to be deeply religious despite her hypersexuality — but (spoiler) entirely correct about the house being haunted.

Then there’s Nana who, at first glance, is the quiet artist foil to Bunny. So it comes as a surprise when she ends up with one of the funniest arcs in the book, one that demonstrates Nate’s deft ability to build character through costume. It begins with a nonchalant confession from Nana that is impossible to summarize but involves a childhood birthday party, a balloon animal and sexual imprinting. By the end of “Girl Juice,” Nana’s not only dating a literal clown, much to Bunny’s dismay, but her wardrobe has slowly morphed into what can only be described as Pierrot chic, white ruff included.

Sadie and Tallulah, who are dating each other, round out the quartet. The former is a no-nonsense pink-haired punk who turns out to be the mom friend of the group. The latter is an aspiring content creator whose commitment to her online persona eventually invites an attention-seeking demon into the house that requires the aforementioned exorcism.

Whether they’re working at a human register or flirting with the supernatural, Nate’s stories revel in that peculiar form of intimacy forged more through proximity than preexisting kinship, the kind most often made necessary by a lack of funds, a partner or both. The liminality of such arrangements can lead to one of two outcomes. The friendship can either break down, unable to bear the strain of the accountability that cohabitating requires. Or, if you’re lucky, for a few short months or years the friendship sometimes takes on the aura of an endless sleepover where you’re never quite sure whether you want to call your mom to come pick you up or keep whispering until dawn.

Reading “Girl Juice,” I found myself wanting to take photos of pages to send to various friends, often because they reminded us of our shared experiences when we’d lived together at one time or another. It was surprising, then, to find out from an interview that Nate did with Publisher’s Weekly that she’s never had female roommates. “I’ve always wanted them,” she said, “and I thought this was what it could be like.” For anyone else who’s ever thought the same or who just wants to reminisce, “Girl Juice” offers a glimpse into the worlds that girls create for themselves, in all their heartfelt absurdities.

Rachelle Hampton is a culture writer for Slate and host of the internet culture podcast “In Case You Missed It.”

Drawn & Quarterly. 188 pp. $24.95