Quiet

by Fernando Gabriel Sosa

Quiet (2026), written by former mental health nurse, celebrated baker, and author Kim-Joy, and illustrated by Alti Firmansyah, represents a sophisticated expansion of the narrative and therapeutic concerns introduced in Turtle Bread. Shifting the focus from adult community workshops to the high-pressure environment of a near-future secondary school in Manchester (set in 2060), the graphic novel tackles the complex reality of selective mutism, peer harassment, and the double-edged sword of technological interventions in adolescent mental health care. Through a compelling mix of speculative fiction, coming-of-age drama, and graphic medicine, the authors offer a nuanced examination of how young people navigate internal paralysis while striving to reclaim their agency.

The narrative follows Mary, a high school student living with severe selective mutism. Though capable of vocalizing in the safe confines of her home, Mary experiences complete speech paralysis at school, where her silence makes her a target for casual cruelty and social exclusion by her peers. In an effort to facilitate her participation, her compassionate teacher, Ms. Emuka, provides her with a prototype “SereniBot” 3.0—a floating, AI-driven emotional support companion named SID (Sentient Insubordinate Device) programmed with affect recognition systems and anxiety-reduction protocols. What begins as a technological bridge for communication soon evolves into a complex dynamic: Mary and SID begin using the droid’s capabilities to execute subtle acts of sabotage against her bullies. As these retaliatory pranks escalate into setting off the school’s sprinkler system, Mary is forced to confront the boundary between self-defense, moral compromise, and genuine emotional recovery.

From a visual humanities perspective, Alti Firmansyah’s artwork is instrumental in rendering selective mutism accessible and deeply resonant. Utilizing crisp black-and-white inkwork, expressive screentones, and manga-inspired character designs, the visual architecture contrasts Mary’s rich inner world with her external paralysis. High-anxiety social moments are depicted through choking visual metaphors—such as energetic barriers encasing Mary, or subjective hallucinations where she imagines herself as a camouflaged octopus or a vulnerable alien amidst hostile “sour fruit” peers. Conversely, the comic cleverly uses graphic devices like empty speech balloons, quiet sequential beats, and private baking sequences complete with real, step-by-step recipes—a structural signature that stems directly from Kim-Joy’s background as a Great British Bake Off finalist and culinary author. In her storytelling, baking transcends mere culinary instruction; it serves as a grounded, tactile therapeutic practice of patience, order, and emotional regulation.

One of the most significant contributions of Quiet to graphic medicine is its critical, non-idealized depiction of assistive technology in mental health. Rather than presenting the SereniBot as an uncritical “tech-fix,” the story highlights the fundamental ambivalence of digital tools. This is personified by SID’s very acronym, where the word “Insubordinate” introduces a clever layer of in-universe irony: the bot itself acknowledges that its name contradicts its core programming, foreshadowing how the technology ultimately subverts its therapeutic goal. While SID successfully reduces social friction, its literal interpretation of Mary’s desire for a “quiet space” leads to unintended ethical boundary-crossing, illustrating that outsourcing coping mechanisms can inadvertently isolate vulnerable individuals further. The narrative demonstrates that finding a voice is not always about speaking louder, but about finding the appropriate medium—whether art, baking, or supportive human relationships—through which one can finally regain agency and express what could not be articulated before.

Ultimately, Quiet stands out as an empathetic, visually dynamic, and pedagogically rich work within health humanities. By portraying selective mutism not as mere shyness or willful obstinacy, but as a profound anxiety-driven freeze response, Kim-Joy and Firmansyah provide clinicians, educators, and young readers with a powerful tool for empathy and reflection. The book eloquently argues that having a voice is not merely about making sound, but about finding the courage to inhabit one’s truth within a community.

About the Reviewer

Fernando Gabriel Sosa is an Argentine comics artist, writer, illustrator, graphic designer, animator, filmmaker, researcher, lead artist in videogame production, and cultural manager based in Córdoba, Argentina. Active in comics since 1992, he is the founder of Barricada Cómics and a civil advocate for national comic promotion legislation in Argentina. He serves as an External Consultant for the Billy Ireland Cartoon Library & Museum at Ohio State University, is a member of the National Cartoonists Society (since 2014), and is a member of RING Latam.

His work explores visual storytelling across comics, animation, cinema, music, and interactive media. He is also the creator of Soma Creativo, a personal creative methodology that explores artistic practice as a tool for expression, reflection, learning, and personal development. His long-standing interest in the relationship between visual narratives, psychology, education, and human well-being led to his involvement with Graphic Medicine.