As someone who’s lived with a physical disability my entire life, I can tell you that stories which confront this topic honestly are rare. Just a few weeks ago, I wrote about the new film Me Before You, the latest stereotype-propelled blockbuster which millions of viewers flocked to. Yet while Hollywood fails time and time again to represent the disabled community – and countless other minorities for that matter – comics on the other hand have become a medium in which diversity is depicted much more accurately. Just look at how Ms. Marvel portrays an American Muslim, or how Saga examines everything from dysfunctional families to global politics. These so-called “funny books” have come a long way.

Recently at HeroesCon, me and the rest of The Joy of Geek crew came across a new comic from Oni Press (the same publisher that did Scott Pilgrim, among many others), while we were exploring the artists alley. The book is called Heartthrob, written by Christopher Sebela and illustrated by Robert Wilson IV. I was hooked as soon as Mr. Sebela explained the premise to us, and I was even more enthralled once I read it to see how nuanced and layered it treats its subject matter. As soon as I finished the first issue, I tweeted to Sebela that this was one of the best stories about disability I’d ever come across.

The story follows Callie, a woman who’s suffered from heart problems for as long as she can remember, and who requires a transplant. It also takes place in 1977, back when heart transplants were a new phenomenon. She goes forward with the surgery, but is still unable to find true love and happiness; until she meets none other than her donor, a mysterious ex-con named Mercer. While obviously reluctant at first to engage in a relationship with a man who openly professes himself as a criminal, Callie also can’t return to her mundane, lonely life. Thus, this issue paves the way for the couple’s Bonnie and Clyde-esque adventure.

Now, there are several things to take away from Callie’s character that set her apart from other disabled characters in fiction. She is nihilistic, but her cynicism is juxtaposed with her more optimistic qualities. Yes she is left damaged by her condition and is definitely an outcast, but inwardly she’s strong and independent and wants to lead a good life. Lines like “So I’m dead. And that’s kind of a bummer” are followed by “But if I’m lucky, I won’t be for long.” It’s that kind of black humor commentary which pervades the issue in a weirdly engaging kind of way. Too often the physically disabled character is either overtly depressed and can’t break past their situation (as is the case with Me Before You), or they’re unrealistically optimistic and serve as a catalyst for the protagonist to find inspiration (I refer to this as the “Tiny Tim fallacy”). Rarely is the disabled character an appropriate balance of the two; you know, a human.

What Sebela has done with this character speaks not only to those who have suffered from a heart condition or have had a transplant, but also to broader audiences about a topic they’ve probably never even considered. The first issue takes you through Callie’s past and present, her struggles, hopes and fears in a way that will resonate with every reader to some extent. While some, like my friend who underwent a heart transplant a few years ago, may connect with this comic on a truly personal level, the prospect of able-bodied readers picking it up excites me even more. If someone with no connection to a heart condition or any kind of disability picks up this comic, they’ll have a better understanding of what people like Callie go through by the time they’re done reading.

Oh, and did I mention that the art is gorgeous? Between Wilson IV’s succinct, gritty pencils and Nick Filardi’s beautifully dense color palette, this world and these characters become all the more real. I’ve loved Filardi’s work on the Image series Cry Havoc, and he brings the same level of depth and texture here. The creators brilliantly merge the realism elements with the more fantastical climax to make it both natural and inexplicably bizarre at the same time. This is the kind of comic that manages to penetrate every sense, and it also works great as a serialized story. While I’ve only had a chance to read this issue, I’ll be picking up the second soon. And if you’re looking for a comic with multilayered characters and a high-concept story that does wonders for the disabled community, I suggest you give it a try too.