In a recent piece at The Comics Reporter, Bart Beaty wondered how much Joann Sfar was too much. There’s no denying that he’s prolific, and his body of work is showing up more and more in English translation. But I’m still at the point where having too much Sfar to choose from seems like a lovely dream world.

Sfar’s meandering narratives and sometimes barbed observations about human nature are like spicy comfort food, familiar and satisfying but with a bit of bite. The latest I’ve read, Vampire Loves (:01 Books), transposes classic examples of relationship neuroses onto a vampire and his cronies.

If that suggests the melodrama of Anne Rice or the angst of Joss Whedon, don’t worry. Sfar’s far more interested in the smaller moments of connection and dysfunction than anything self-consciously deep. His protagonist, Ferdinand, just wants to find someone with whom he can share the rest of his death… or maybe not. He’s not sure.

Ambivalence isn’t the easiest thing to make entertaining. It can be irritating when the object of the ambivalence seems trivial or the weight of the character’s confusion seems out of proportion. While Ferdinand worries a lot about his prospects for romance and past mistakes in that arena, Sfar throws plenty of distractions in his path, whether it’s a police investigation, a gang of seafaring mummies, or finding dinner for his cat.

That isn’t to say that the relationship bits aren’t potent and funny. The central object of Ferdinand’s obsession, a tree spirit named Lani, could be dreadfully unsympathetic but miraculously isn’t. She doesn’t really mean to drive Ferdinand crazy; there’s no malice in her fickleness. But she simply doesn’t have the same emotional morality as Ferdinand, or really any of the men she encounters (and inadvertently torments).

Ferdinand bumps into a number of other romantic prospects (a smitten vampire cursed with a flirty older sister, a wispy phantom with a sense of adventure, and even a human who sees more of Europe than she might have expected). Each is appealing in her own way, as are Ferdinand’s male friends. It’s a large cast, featuring some characters who’ve apparently wandered over from Sfar’s (many) other works, but they all bring something unique to the conversation about life, death, love, conscience, and the many other subjects, big and small, that Sfar covers.

I’m very fond of Sfar’s illustrative style, too, though I always have trouble describing it. It’s crude but intricate, creepy but touching, and just right for this subject matter.

Vampire Loves is a charming ramble through emotionally and philosophically rocky territory. It doesn’t travel in a straight line, and it asks many more questions than it attempts to answer, but the company is excellent.

Jean-Philippe Stassen’s Deogratias: A Tale of Rwanda (:01 Books) is a very small story about a gaping wound in human history. Stassen follows an utterly average person through extraordinarily horrifying circumstances.

Stassen centers his story on Deogratias, a young Hutu. We see him before the genocide – prankish but basically decent beneath his bluster – and after – utterly shattered, almost feral. Past and present intersect, as Deogratias remembers more peaceful times with agonizing clarity.

He had friends, two Tutsi sisters — scholarly, spirited Benina and gentle, devout Apollinaria. He did odd jobs for the Belgian clergymen who were kind to him. He had a kid’s preoccupations – sex, beer, and talking big. He isn’t particularly noble or strong, but he rejects the worst of the ambient, anti-Tutsi racism that pervades the classroom, the radio waves, and really every aspect of daily life.

But that was Deogratias then, before many Hutus seized an opportunity to slaughter every Tutsi they could. Now, years later, he wanders the streets filthy and ragged, begging for food Urwagwa, the local beer. People from those appalling days of genocide are drifting back into Rwanda, sparking a new round of tragedy that’s smaller in scale but no less devastating.

Stassen also populates the book with competing perspectives. Venetia, Benina and Apollinaria’s mother, has been reduced to trading sex for favors to secure a better life for her daughters. In light of the restrictions of the culture, her choices have real moral force. Benina, the chief beneficiary of Venetia’s efforts, is torn between the opportunities afforded by her education and simmering outrage at the racial constructs that govern her life (and the condescension of the white Europeans she works for). Augustine is a highly educated member of a third ethnic group, the Twa, who has found he can make more money as a groundskeeper for those Europeans than he can by using his numerous academic degrees. Everyone is getting by as best they can in a society where a legacy of artificial differences makes it extraordinarily difficult. (Translator Alexis Siegel provides a well-written introduction covering Rwanda’s turbulent history.)

Stassen’s visuals are impressive. His script jumps through time, and the illustrations support that perfectly. Characters age credibly and organically, placing the individual sequences along the timeline of the story while creating investment in their journeys. He also renders Deogratias’s deteriorating mental state with care and imagination. His color work is very effective in establishing shifts in mood. Night and shadow take on different meanings, and even a sky full of stars can be menacing. Still, given the sensationalistic potential of the material, Stassen’s approach is ultimately very restrained. He never resorts to gore, letting the reader’s imagination fill in those horrible blanks.

Stassen’s aim seems to be understanding. He doesn’t want you to forgive people like Deogratias who were drawn into the tide of violence. Even Brother Philip, the jovial Belgian priest, can’t seem to manage that. But you can get inside those people and see events from their perspective.

Often, when artists approach these scarring moments of human history, they do so from the perspective of the heroic member of the majority who goes against the destructive tide of public sentiment to protect and rescue the victimized minority. Those stories are instructive and uplifting, but I think Stassen’s approach has a chilling value of its own.

(This review was based on a complimentary copy provided by :01 Books. Deogratias: A Tale of Rwanda will be released in May.)