Thoughts on BREAD & WINE, a classic erotic graphic novel

Bread & Wine: An Erotic Tale of New York – Updated Edition

Writer: Samuel R. Delany
Artist: Mia Wolff
Publisher: Fantagraphics
Publication Date: September 2025

I want to talk about these hands. Mia Wolff is probably not the first person that is going to be brought up in reviews, analysis, and other such texts about Bread & Wine. But I really want to talk about these hands.

The context of these hands is in the opening salvos of romance between Dennis Rickett and the author of this book, Samuel R. Delany (called Chip in the story). They are having a conversation “about our mutual sexual preferences — what we did and didn’t like to do in bed with other men.” Indeed, there’s a rather lovingly drawn penis not a few glances to the left of these hands. But it’s the hands I want to talk about the most.

There are a lot of images of hands within queer circles. One of the most sensual sequences in Jul Maroh’s Blue is the Warmest Color, for example, emphasizes a multitude of the same couple’s hands touching each other in a multitude of ways. Many of them with the apprehension and uncertainty Delany’s words convey when starting out this relationship.

But there is no apprehension in Wolff’s hands. What’s more, unlike Maroh’s hands, we can see the age in these hands — every wrinkle and vein and the small bites in the fingernails. They don’t hold each other as Maroh’s threaten to do, they don’t even clasp. Instead, the hands linger next to each other, like lovers who’ve known each other for so long they don’t need words. And yet, that overlap of pinkies says more than any words could. The soft touch of connection highlights the uncertainty and desire these two men share for one another.

As with Maroh’s hands, there’s a degree of surrealism to these hands. While not a multitude in number, the hands come out of a scratched darkness as if sprouting from that very darkness. Even the shading emphasizes the darkness to combine these two men — who only barely know each other — feel as if they’ve always been there for each other. (Indeed, there’s a surrealist air to how Wolff draws this love story. A disregard of realism in favor of the emotions felt by these two men. Frequently, the male form will transform into squiggles with the general outline of a man. Backgrounds and foregrounds will reveal new shapes with symbolic implications).

But when they do begin their relationship, it’s depicted through hands. Delany’s script places emphasis on the individual hands of himself and the man he would one day marry. We start with two panels of Delany’s hands — one from Delany’s perspective, the other from Dennis’. Then, we see Dennis’ hand in four separate panels. (The fourth panel having an optical effect of looking like a man smiling instead of a hand gently caressing a ponytail, subconsciously indicating the direction of the relationship.) Unlike Delany’s, they are broken up, never showing the full hand to highlight his uncertainty. It’s when Dennis decides to make the decisive action of taking Chip’s hand that we see the full hand rather than these split parts. 

And when the sexual relationship begins, the emphasis once again returns to hands. The first image is of Dennis’s hand softly caressing Chip’s shoulder. Indeed, Dennis is nothing but hands, which Chip suckles and embraces lovingly. But when they reveal the full extent of themselves to the reader, we see the fullness of their bodies.

In truth, it feels rather difficult to discuss Sam Delany in the comics scene. If I were talking about him in the context of his work in science fiction, I could highlight his decades of acclaim, comparing him with contemporary writers like Michael Moorcock and Harlan Ellison (both of whom would edit Delany’s work). If I were to talk about his non-fiction work, I’d highlight the psychogeography found within his excellent Time Square Red, Time Square Blue as well as his ongoing work engaging with the unspoken side of genre and city. But comics are a different matter.

It’s not that he is a bad comics writer — in fact, I’d argue that on the basis of this book alone he’s one of the great comics writers of the 20th century. His usage of the medium is shockingly good. While many prose writers doing comics work have a tendency to overwrite their words, drowning the images with prose, Delany instead melds his prose beautifully with Wolff’s images.

But when I think of Delany in the comics scene, I can’t help but think of how he was failed by it. In 1972, Sam Delany — already a multiple Nebula and Hugo award winner — was unceremoniously booted off of Wonder Woman in a run that was poised to engage in real social issues from capitalistic abuse to Wonder Woman defending an abortion clinic. Instead, Robert Kanigher would return to the book with a stand in for Dorothy Woolfolk and Gloria Steinem being shot in the head in its opening page. I think about how his graphic novel Empire (with artist Howard Chaykin, just before American Flagg!) has never been republished since the 1970s.

I think about how these three works are the only comics work of Sam Delany, and I find myself wanting more by him. But what we have is beautiful. Would I sacrifice Dhalgren and Triton and “Ash Wednesday” for another graphic novel or comic series? No. But I would love to see him do more in this field. Because we could use more writers as talented and honest and beautiful as Sam Delany.

“If I had known that there would be a delay
Then I might have taken another train
But I think it’s not about knowing what’s best
or trusting the wind to take the rest
But making a home beneath your feet and the ground”
-Marlene Bellissimo, The Last Block in Manhattan

Bread & Wine: An Erotic Tale of New York Updated Edition is out in September via Fantagraphics

Read more graphic novel reviews from The Beat!