For several years now, the fan-operated database ComicsDB.cz – a valuable tool and an important discussion platform for the core of the Czech comics community – has published insightful statistics. These track the development of the Czech comics market, quantify the number of publications, and compare various parameters, from the number of pages and type of binding to their origins. This meticulous work enables us to look back and critically assess certain ambitious claims, or directly refute assumptions that may seem predictable and “logical” but are often entirely false.

One such assumption was the frequently repeated conviction that Czech comics and the Czech comics market would face a particularly difficult period in the early 2020s. Amid the COVID-19 pandemic, with the knowledge of a terrifying war occurring only a few hundred miles away, where Russian aggression was directed at their neighbour, Ukraine, and finally, in light of the deteriorating economic situation, it seemed entirely inconceivable that the boom in creativity and publication activity experienced by the Czech comics scene in the 2010s could continue. People simply would not have the time or money for comics; this pace was unsustainable; there would be no one to buy the books. These sentiments were echoed by many critics, fans, activists, and commentators.

However, a retrospective examination of the actual figures clearly refutes most of these pessimistic predictions. The number of newly published comics has been steadily increasing since 2000, a year that Czech comics historians commonly identify as the birth of the “New Czech comics”, and there was no disruption to this trend between 2020 and 2025. Although the first year of the pandemic, 2020, saw 508 publications – a decline compared to 558 in 2019 – the numbers resumed their upward trajectory the following year. In 2024, the database recorded 712 publications, representing a distinctive and statistically significant increase.

It remains true that the Czech comics market is sustained largely by translations, with the proportional representation and significance of local comics slowly but steadily declining. Of the 712 publications in 2024, works by Czech artists account for only about one-sixth, specifically 120 titles (compared to 137 in 2020, approximately one-quarter). The strong performance of the Czech comics market is primarily due to successful translations, led by Japanese manga and Korean webtoons. In 2020, East Asian comics comprised only around ten per cent of all published comics, but by 2024, one in every four comics published in Czech originated in Japan and South Korea.

Stepping Out Into the World

Must we, therefore, conclude that Czech comics are abandoning their position at home? It would be all too easy now to lament a passing glory, unrealistic expectations, and unfulfilled hopes. However, this would likely result in yet another fundamentally distorted pessimistic claim or prophecy. The quantity of individually published comics is, of course, not the sole representative indicator; by other metrics, Czech comics are performing better than ever before. The field is developing great diversity in genre and format, capturing the attention of many within the cultural public who looked down on it only a few years ago. Last but not least, it has radically expanded its “field of activity” in recent years. Whereas in previous decades, international publications of translations of Czech comics were exceptional events that comics creators would discuss for months with admiration (and perhaps a little envy), new comics published between 2020 and 2025 have seen translations into French, Polish, Italian, Spanish, English, and some more unexpected languages such as Korean and Egyptian Arabic. Translations are not a matter of course, but certainly something to aspire to. After all, the catalogue you are holding now makes this clear enough – information about rights sold for international editions forms part of the entries.

Several factors have contributed to this encouraging progress. For years, Czech comics shuffled its feet at the borders – not so much real geopolitical borders as mental ones, which are that much harder to cross. It finally stepped out to “conquer the world” thanks in part to the global increase in the popularity of comics, as well as the heightened interest shown by some – particularly European – comics publishers in work created outside the traditionally strong comics cultures (which their competitors are therefore following closely). The situation is also the result of comics-friendly cultural policies at Czech institutions: comics are accepted as a standard part of the local cultural landscape and thus receive funding (e.g. from the publication support programme at the Ministry of Culture of the Czech Republic), and they are also a matter of cultural export. Thanks to support from institutions such as the Czech Centres and the Czech Literary Centre, Czech comics are increasingly visible around the world, with a presence at the largest professional expos (Frankfurt, Bologna, Angoulême) and artists frequently presenting their work at international exhibitions and festivals (in some cases, Czechia was even featured as a guest country of honour, e.g. at the Lakes International Comic Art Festival in the British town of Kendal in 2021 or the Salon de la bande dessinée in Paris in 2022).

However zealous the agent, however well prepared the information brochures and presentation materials of Czech publishers may be, they would do little good if Czech comics had nothing interesting to offer. The international success of Czech comics is primarily due to the talent, skill, dedication, and resolve of our artists. The landscape of Czech comics is not vast: if we were to determine the number of artists working on comics with some degree of continuity in Czechia, we could list at most a few hundred names. It is all the more surprising how artistically mature, varied, and original the best of these artists are. This selection presents fifteen such works, but the most positive message to emerge from its preparation is how difficult it was to make this selection – we had two or three candidates for each slot.

Transformation of Genre as Tendency, Trend, Coincidence

Is it therefore even possible to make any synoptic statements about Czech comics between 2020 and 2025? Given the originality we have just discussed, can we truly identify tendencies and trends or highlight any dominant tendencies – especially now, with almost no hindsight? Whenever we attempt to provide an overview of Czech comics as a whole, we should always acknowledge that much of what we consider significant and meaningful may be purely coincidental. If 120 original Czech comics are published in a year (of which at least twenty or thirty are issues of the Čtyřlístek children’s magazine and its various spin-offs), the data can easily be skewed. Does the fact that 2023 saw the publication of two or three local variations on superhero stories indicate a new dawn of efforts to establish local iterations of the superhero genre, or is it simply a coincidence unlikely to recur? Examining the figures for 2024 and 2025 suggests the latter is more probable, but circumstances can change rapidly. Given the small scale of Czech original comics production, two or three books are often sufficient to establish a trend.

Even so, when we look back at the seven or eight hundred new original Czech comics published between 2020 and 2025 (and, truth be told, after excluding periodicals and small-run self-published zines and leaflets, we are left with fewer than a hundred relevant book-form comics), we can identify certain trends – both new elements and features absent compared to previous years. Original Czech production in the 2010s was dominated by historical and biographical comics. Publishers making their initial experimental forays into comic publishing, with all the associated production demands, often regarded these didactic volumes related to our “glorious” national history and its heroes as a “safe bet”, so writers and comic artists received a relatively large number of such commissions. These figures were further increased by commissions from various non-commercial entities: municipalities, museums, and galleries, which hope that a comic book retelling of local or regional history will automatically make it more appealing to younger generations.

It appears that historical and biographical comics have lost some ground between 2020 and 2025, although they have not disappeared entirely. Works of this kind produced in the past five years – best exemplified in this selection by Štefánik (2021, Labyrint) by Gabriela Kyselová, Michal Baláž and Václav Šlajch or Winton Was Not Alone (Winton nebyl sám, 2024, Argo) by Tereza Verecká a Mikuláš Podprocký – have offered many artists a relatively accessible means of receiving at least somewhat adequate compensation for demanding artistic labour. For some, combining commissions of this nature (most often historical and biographical narratives) with more independent artistic work provides a way to earn the bare minimum needed to survive, while still allowing time to pursue genres and themes of their own choosing. It also remains true that only three or four artists can make a living solely from original work on comics, with all others supplementing their income through additional activities such as commercial illustration for advertising, teaching at art schools and universities, and so forth.

One frequently noted peculiarity of Czech comics production in the 2000s and 2010s was that, with exceptions such as the 2015 My Winnetou Book (Moje kniha Vinnetou, Labyrint) by Toy_Box, there were very few examples of autofiction and autobiography. Of course, Czech readers could reach for the global bestsellers in these genres (such as Maus, Persepolis, Epileptic, and Fun Home), but original works in this vein were practically unheard of. We can happily leave considerations about the causes of this situation, and whether it was simply the result of a series of coincidences, to the comics historians of the future. What seems clear, however, is that a fairly radical transformation in this regard occurred between 2020 and 2025, with many local comics creators presenting openly autobiographical narratives. It is worth noting that these are mostly female authors – autobiographical comics have become almost exclusively the domain of women writers, whose overall participation in the comics scene has also continued to increase. In this catalogue, this trend is represented by Štěpánka Jislová’s Heartcore (Srdcovka, 2023, Paseka), Bald – My Life With Alopecia (Bez vlasů, 2020, Paseka, written by Tereza Čechová Drahoňovská), and Lucie Lomová’s Every Day Is New (Každý den je nový, 2022, Labyrint), but the longlist included several other publications in this vein: an illustrated story of infertility and all it entails titled Childless (Bezdětná, 2020, Labyrint) by Monika Baudišová, and a poignant and authentic collection of humorous strips about life and dying from leukaemia Captain Chemo (Kapitán Chemo, 2024, Epocha) by an artist working under the nom de plume Albrecht Smuten.

Publication Formats, Target Groups

The fact that this text has so far discussed almost exclusively comics published in book form, or graphic novels, is neither a coincidence nor an omission. Over the past ten to fifteen years, original Czech comics production has been dominated by book-form publications – that is, individual, non-periodical works distributed through bookshops. Books represent the most important publication platform for new Czech comics, with comics printed in other contexts (as single issue comics or magazines) and those distributed via digital channels lagging far behind. Several attempts were made between 2020 and 2025 to establish a model (inspired by American comic books) of periodical releases of new works: this was the original format for comic spin-offs to Vojtěch Matocha’s and Karel Osoha’s series of novels, Dustzone (Prašina, 2018, Paseka), intended for children and young adults, and Eva Mária Ondová and Lukáš Komárek are attempting to publish their adventure series Cairn (Mohyla, 2024, Centrala) in this manner. However, these appear to be isolated experiments rather than a general trend. The book as a format is also something of a desired endpoint: publishing a separate book confirms one’s success in periodicals or online and ensures greater attention from critics. After all, this is also the case for the “comic book” projects mentioned above: Prašina Chronicles (Kroniky Prašiny), a book-form collection, has already been published, while in the case of Mohyla, which remains unfinished, a collective edition has been announced.

This was not always the case. Throughout the 20th century, comics in Czech culture were an almost exclusively serialised genre in periodicals, published in children’s and humoristic magazines. One of the defining moments in the birth of “new Czech comics” around the year 2000, as discussed above, was this change in format and publication. Comics moved from newspapers and magazines to anthologies and books. Among other effects, this freed them from the necessity of creating relatively short stories at a fast-paced and regular tempo, opening the way to more complex, internally detailed, and structured narratives.

Most of the titles included in this catalogue were created specifically for book publication and are, in the truest sense of the word, graphic novels (or non-fiction comics, as in the case of Jiří Janíček’s travelogue West by Northwest (Na západ severozápadní linkou, 2022, Paseka). However, some of the fifteen works presented here had a longer journey to publication. A significant portion of Tomáš Motal’s Traum 1999 (2024, Centrala) was originally published in three small-print notebooks that the creator self-published and attempted to distribute independently, selling them at comics events, festivals, and expos. In other cases, the book format only emerged through discussions between artists and publishers: for example, Katarina Kratochvílová’s successful short comic Used Kimono Store, which earned recognition at the International Japan Manga Award, was expanded and transformed into book-length In the Eye of the Fox in 2024 (V oku lišky, Labyrint).

There is only one example (albeit spanning four volumes) of comics that were serialised in a magazine before being published as a book. The stories of Hubert & Hugo by Nikkarin (2021, Labyrint) were originally printed in the traditional comics magazine Čtyřlístek, which, after an uncertain search for a new identity around the turn of the millennium, has recently reaffirmed its position as a key platform for children’s comics. The magazine, which has been published continuously since 1969, is currently the only original comics magazine on the Czech market.

Let us return one last time to those decisive moments at the turn of the millennium when the “new Czech comics” movement was born, and recall that while the vast majority of Czech comics produced in the 20th century were aimed at children or young adults at most, today’s comics much more frequently target adult readers. For a time, it seemed that Czech comics production might undergo a complete reversal, with original comics for children and young adults disappearing entirely. Thankfully, this did not occur, but it remains true that original works for children and young adults represent a minority. In recent years, however, it has begun to seem as though this could change soon. Thanks to manga and translated teen and young adult narratives, Czech teenagers are once again learning to reach for comics, and there are also interesting attempts at original comics in these genres. Works that could be included under this subheading in the current catalogue include the superhero fairy tale The Porridgeman (Hrnečku vař, 2022, Argo) by Kateřina Čupová and Total Madness (Naprostá šílenost, 2021, Paseka), a story about anxiety and growing up by Tereza a Tomáš Kopecký.

However, let us recall what was mentioned above: given the relatively modest size of the Czech comics scene, any claims we make about it could soon prove to be incorrect or misleading. This catalogue invites many possible interpretations. For instance, we might pursue a line of personal introspection, with artists exploring the inner worlds of their protagonists, depicting their struggles within the modern world. Alongside the autobiographical comics mentioned earlier, this trend includes Jiří Franta’s Single (Singl, 2020, Labyrint) and Branko Jelinek’s Oskar Ed: My Greatest Dream (Oskar Ed: Můj největší sen, 2025, Lipnik). But is this truly a defining characteristic of contemporary Czech comics, or merely a coincidence reinforced by the necessarily subjective selection?

This article bears the joyful title “The Miracle Years” – followed by a question mark. This may be interpreted as a subtle qualification or doubt regarding that thesis, but more importantly, it should be seen as an invitation for the reader to form their own opinion. Read through our catalogue New Czech Comics 2020-2025, explore these fifteen worlds in comics created between 2020 and 2025, and then make your own judgement about the state of Czech comics. Personally, I would have no hesitation in crossing out the question mark.