It wasn’t always cool to be obsessed with superheroes or sci-fi—especially not in rural Wisconsin. These days, entire YouTube channels break down every corner of the Marvel and DC universes. But when I was growing up in central Wisconsin, that kind of passion was niche. Sure, comics were available—if you were lucky, you might spot them spinning on wire racks at the 29 Super grocery store or tucked in the back corner of a Book World strip mall location. Most folks were more into hunting, fishing, snowmobiling, bowling, or high school football.
I dabbled in some of that, but comics and movies were my escape hatch, my ticket to a bigger world than the one I saw from the passenger seat of my Dad’s 1996 Navy Blue Ford F-150.
At 35, I’m still hooked. In fact, I’m writing this while sipping from my vintage Batman Forever Riddler McDonald’s cup from 1995. These days, I’ve been drawn to stories that hit closer to home—literally. I’ve been collecting comics not just made by Wisconsinites but set in Wisconsin. Some are memoirs, others lean into horror or sci-fi, but they all elevate the Midwest into something mythic.
In this piece, I want to highlight a few of my favorites—from Tim Seeley‘s rural noir Revival and his meta-superhero series Local Man, to Craig Thompson’s intimate Blankets and Ginseng Roots, and finally The Deviant by James Tynion IV and Joshua Hixson, a horror tale set in Milwaukee.
Revival – written by Tim Seeley and artist Mike Norton
I discovered Revival about a decade ago, flipping through a trade paperback at random—only to freeze when I saw it was set in my hometown of Wausau. The illustrations were uncannily accurate, from downtown buildings to the Arctic Cat jackets. It was surreal seeing Wausau—this place I had complicated feelings about—reflected in one of my favorite mediums.
Described by Seeley as a “rural noir,” Revival begins on New Year’s Day when the recently deceased in and around Wausau inexplicably come back to life. The CDC quarantines the area and works with local law enforcement to manage the phenomenon. We follow Detective Dana Cypress and Dr. Ibrahim Ramin as they investigate the mystery, with Dana secretly hiding the fact that her sister Em is among the “Revivers.” Ghostly figures haunt the woods, adding a supernatural edge to a town already unraveling.
What sets Revival apart is its hyper-specific regional detail: mentions of the Rothschild Police Department, Highway 51, scenes at Ministry St. Clare’s Hospital, and the old UW-Marathon County campus. Later in the series, central Wisconsin-based fantasy author Patrick Rothfuss even makes a cameo as a character.
And now, Revival is on screen. SyFy recently premiered an adaptation, keeping Wausau as the setting. I was thrilled to spot real local news footage in the pilot—even if the rest was clearly filmed in Canada. (Trust me, those mountains aren’t from Rib Mountain.) Still, it’s exciting. I just hope someday we pass real film tax incentives so scenes might be shot at places like Sam’s Pizza.
Revival blends horror with crime and theology, exploring identity, family, and the ethics of eternal life. Seeley, who grew up just outside Wausau, captures the tensions of small-town life—between pride and shame, belief and doubt. That’s what makes it resonate so deeply with me.
Local Man – written and drawn by Tim Seeley and Tony Fleecs
Seeley’s Local Man is a personal project I followed issue-by-issue. It wrapped after 13 core issues, a few one-shots, and a tongue-in-cheek issue #25.
The story follows Jack Xaver, a disgraced superhero forced to return to his struggling Wisconsin hometown after a scandal. There, he stumbles into a murder mystery that unearths deeper secrets and resentments. The fictional setting draws heavily from places like Ringle and nearby towns, capturing the feel of central Wisconsin with uncanny precision.
Flipping through the first issues, I kept spotting familiar details: the Barnyard Saloon (a dead ringer for Kluck’s Callon Saloon with County Concrete as the backdrop) and the 29 Super grocery store—my childhood spot for VHS rentals and gumballs.
There’s a hilarious fight scene with a villain in a mascot suit who claims his arch-nemesis is the Hodag. That’s the kind of strange, hyper-local mythology that only makes sense if you’re from here—and it’s glorious.
Beyond the references, Local Man tackles heavier themes: small-town guilt, failure, and the uncomfortable tension between ambition and reality. Seeley, who’s been candid about his own return home, taps into that ache of coming back to a place that hasn’t changed—even when you have.
Visually, the series draws on ’90s Image Comics aesthetics, but it feels like a reckoning—with hometown baggage, fading dreams, and the myths we tell ourselves. It’s a superhero story grounded in frozen fields, diner coffee, the Midwest feeling bittersweet, familiar, and real.
Blankets and Ginseng Roots – written and drawn by Craig Thompson
Craig Thompson’s Blankets, his breakout autobiographical graphic novel, turns 22 this year. Set in rural Wisconsin during his adolescence, the story charts Craig’s strict evangelical upbringing, his close bond with his younger brother Phil, and his first love, Raina, whom he meets at church camp. Spanning childhood to early adulthood, it explores Craig’s journey from religious conformity to personal awakening, as he grapples with faith, family expectations, and his emerging sense of identity.
Thompson renders rural Wisconsin—snow-laden woods, youth retreats, and humble farmhouses—as a kind of emotional terrain reflecting his inner life. He weaves flashbacks and memories to contrast childhood innocence with teenage doubt, ultimately portraying a young man trying to reconcile inherited belief systems with his own truth.
Reading Blankets hit me hard. Its portrayal of first love, spiritual doubt, and family pressure brought tears to my eyes, tapping into memories of my own Catholic upbringing. Like many ex-Catholics, I still wrestle with that baggage. The dialogue, community attitudes, and sense of place make the book deeply authentic. It’s widely celebrated for its emotional honesty, lyrical art, and storytelling—still one of the most impactful graphic novels of the 21st century.
Just after the pandemic, my wife and I pulled the first issue of Ginseng Roots from the rack at Lion’s Tooth in Bay View. In some ways, it picks up where Blankets left off—still deeply personal, but broader in scope. Released in 12 single issues over several years (now recently collected in a hardcover), Ginseng Roots is part memoir and part cultural and economic travelogue, centered around Wisconsin’s ginseng industry.
As someone who grew up near those mesh-covered gardens in Marathon County—and once even sampled the bitter candy—Thompson’s imagery felt like memory. Ginseng may not suit Western tastes, but it remains a strange source of local pride. Thompson’s panels depict fast gravel roads, endless farm fields, grazing cows, and the distinctive black-mesh ginseng beds—so specific to central Wisconsin they might have been lifted from my own childhood.
Thompson and his brother Phil worked in those fields growing up. The story captures labor while zooming out to examine how this bitter, medicinal root from rural Wisconsin feeds a $300 million global trade with Asia. Alongside family history, Ginseng Roots incorporates reflections on class, immigration, and international commerce. Thompson highlights the roles of Hmong and Latinx migrant workers, the economic pressures on small farms, and the reach of globalization—all anchored in the dust and sweat of Midwestern life.
Part family memoir, part economic study, Ginseng Roots shows how even the most isolated corners of Wisconsin are connected to the rest of the world. It’s about brothers, migrant laborers, comic book dreams, and the quiet intersections between rural America and global demand.
The Deviant – written by James Tynion IV, art by Joshua Hixson
I wouldn’t have known about The Deviant if it weren’t for a helpful clerk at Collector’s Edge Comics in Bay View. While grabbing some back issues of Local Man, I mentioned my hometown connection, and he told me there was another series currently set in Milwaukee. Naturally, I had to track down every issue.
The Deviant is a gritty, psychological horror-thriller by James Tynion IV (The Department Of Truth, Something Is Killing The Children), whose Milwaukee roots shape the story in striking ways. The art is gorgeous—vibrant yet ominous, with icy blues, shadowed reds, and heavy snow that perfectly capture the suffocating chill of a Wisconsin winter. It looks and feels like home.
The story moves between two timelines: 1973 and the present day. It opens on a desolate stretch of what appears to be Wisconsin Avenue on Christmas night, where a man in a Santa suit commits a brutal mass murder. The killer is eventually imprisoned, but decades later, a troubled writer interviews him just as a new series of eerily similar killings begins. The book slowly unravels how past traumas echo through time—and through people.
What makes The Deviant especially haunting is how precisely it depicts Wisconsin settings and culture. The neighborhoods resemble Greenfield and Shorewood. There’s a concert scene at The Rave/Eagles Ballroom with a dead-on exterior shot. One pivotal sequence takes place inside This Is It on another snowy Christmas night. Tynion even brings us to Plainfield, the infamous home of Ed Gein.
Tynion has described the book as a blend of Hannibal and Silent Night, Deadly Night, and it lives up to that promise. It’s a story about secrecy, shame, and queer identity, exploring how the Midwest’s buttoned-up exterior can conceal deep, unsettling truths. Themes of public repression, generational trauma, and the fear of being labeled “deviant” are woven throughout.
Tynion has said this series is a response to growing up closeted in southeastern Wisconsin, haunted by the specter of Jeffrey Dahmer and The Silence Of The Lambs. More than anything, The Deviant feels personal—a reclaiming of narrative and identity, a confrontation with the real monsters hiding in plain sight.
It’s a heavy, unsettling read—but one that lingers.
As I’ve gotten older, it’s been deeply meaningful to discover creators who not only share a Wisconsin upbringing but actually set their stories here. Whether it’s the ginseng fields of Marathon County, the quiet snowbound streets of Wausau, or the dim glow of a Milwaukee bar, these comics reflect a version of the Midwest that’s as textured and complicated as the one I know.
Each of these stories—Revival, Local Man, Blankets, Ginseng Roots, and The Deviant—shows how Wisconsin isn’t just a backdrop—it’s a character. A haunted one. A conflicted one. But also a place full of memory, myth, labor, and love. These creators aren’t just telling stories set here, they’re reframing the Midwest as something vast, intimate, and worthy of deeper reflection. You don’t always need to escape to Gotham or Metropolis to find something epic. Sometimes, the most powerful stories are set just down the dirt gravel road.
P.S. Though my hometown grocery store 29 Super no longer rents VHS tapes or sells comics (in fact, it’s not even called 29 Super anymore), I’m incredibly thankful for the independent comic book stores that have helped me collect these titles: Lions Tooth, Collector’s Edge South, and Lost World of Wonders in Milwaukee as well as House of Heroes in Oshkosh.
Support your local comic shops!
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