Revolution of Our Times

Graham J. Murphy considers Badiucao and Melissa Chan’s “You Must Take Part in Revolution.”

By Graham J. MurphyAugust 28, 2025

• SF

• Comics

• Politics

DYSTOPIAN FICTION COMPELS us (as Canadian singer-songwriter Bruce Cockburn puts it) to “kick at the darkness ’til it bleeds daylight.” This imperative is on full display in Badiucao and Melissa Chan’s new graphic novel You Must Take Part in Revolution, a stunning tale of government violence, organized protest, and radical hope. The story unfolds amid the backdrop of a dystopian Hong Kong buckling under the heel of Chinese authoritarianism and, later, amid a scarred (and scared) Taiwan that is cleaved in two by competing Chinese and American interests. In its depiction of commitment, cowardice, and change, You Must Take Part in Revolution proves both heartbreaking and heartening, and—as befits the best works of dystopian fiction—we can all see aspects of ourselves in these characters’ achingly familiar personal and political struggles.

You Must Take Part in Revolution opens with a prelude on July 1, 2035, as a mysterious man sends bomb-laden carrier pigeons to attack the central barracks of the People’s Liberation Army. Following the successful attack, and after the bomber is briefly chased by robotic bloodhounds, the story begins in earnest with five subsequent chapters, set in different time periods: “Revolution of Our Times” (2019 through an alternate 2022), “Twilight Glory” (2030), “Batter My Heart” (2020 to 2032), “Memory and Desire” (2035), and “Spread Your Wings” (2035). In these chapters, You Must Take Part in Revolution takes advantage of tropes common to literary dystopias, including omnipresent surveillance technologies, enforced curfews, social credit scores tied to compliance, paramilitary-clad law enforcement, and all-too-familiar geopolitical tensions between China and the United States.

Badiucao and Chan’s story focuses on three characters: Andy, a veterinarian who uses his free time to protest Chinese authoritarianism; Maggie, a young woman fully committed to protest movements; and Olivia, a novice to organized protest who turns to Andy and Maggie for guidance. These characters bond over their dedication to the Hong Kong protest movement until the group fractures when Maggie grows more militant and helps bomb a police vehicle, which accidentally kills an innocent mother and child. Maggie is incarcerated, Olivia goes into hiding, and Andy tempers his revolutionary zeal, keeping a low profile until he undergoes a reawakening, using his veterinary skills to help those wounded in skirmishes with the authorities. This will lead him to pursue military training with American forces and, eventually, to become the revolutionary bomber in the prelude.

Part of Andy’s growth is also rooted in his internal identity struggles. His parents fled Beijing following the 1989 Tiananmen Square protests, and although he was raised in the United States, he has relocated to Hong Kong, where he tries to connect with a culture that is his own but also alien. In addition, Andy and Maggie emerge as mirrors of each other: Andy initially denounces Maggie’s turn to violent resistance but eventually adopts similar tactics in his fight against Chinese occupation. Meanwhile, an incarcerated Maggie travels in the opposite direction and, thanks to a friendship with fellow prisoner Tenzin, gradually renounces the violence she once extolled as a necessary condition of resistance. Olivia, however, is arguably the most interesting character, even if she doesn’t come into clear focus until the “Batter My Heart” chapter. As Badiucao and Chan aptly illustrate, Olivia is also confined, even if she isn’t in a physical prison. I’ll avoid spoilers, but Olivia plays a far more central role than first appears, especially as escalating tensions eventually bring Andy, Maggie, and Olivia back into one another’s orbits, in very different ways from their past roles. Admittedly, there is an imbalance in the narrative handling of the characters, because Andy dominates the tale and overshadows both Maggie and Olivia when greater depth would help flesh out these women.

The artwork in You Must Take Part in Revolution is stark without losing expressiveness. Seemingly fashioning the illustrations after chalk art, Badiucao’s almost entirely black-and-white visuals reinforce this society’s dystopian overtones (and undertones). However, Badiucao also intersperses red, orange, and yellow coloring throughout the narrative, and these moments are visually startling—notably the horrifying double splash pages that conclude “Batter My Heart.” On the other hand, color also effects a hopeful beauty that concludes the series. These are no illustrative gimmicks; instead, these colorful moments are instrumental to the storytelling. They reinforce both the despair of a darkened today and the hopeful desire of a brighter tomorrow.

Finally, You Must Take Part in Revolution makes deft use of well-known historical moments for its sociopolitical foundation. In addition to Tiananmen Square, there are references to Hong Kong’s transfer to Chinese control in 1997, the SARS pandemic of 2002–04, China’s one-child policy, and so forth. Even when the story moves into the near future, it remains all too familiar. For example, while Andy is undergoing military training, a fellow recruit excitedly endorses an up-and-coming politician and, in so doing, both anticipates and echoes alt-right conservatism and MAGA rhetoric: “Margarita Schroeder will end the war against Christianity! Against guns! She’ll stop this outta control racism against whites! What’s wrong with being white, eh?! It ain’t some crime!”

Later, Andy denounces the American president and remarks that “Schroeder is anti-democratic. She talks like an autocrat, just like Trump before her. These politicians admire Chinese leaders! Envy their power!” Following an escalation in geopolitical conflict with China, the United States (re)opens Asian internment camps, and while it would have been too prescient had Badiucao and Chan included undesirables being shipped off to facilities in, say, El Salvador, the contemporary parallels are impossible to miss. In fact, in an interview with NPR’s Leila Fadel, Badiucao and Chan discuss some of the events that influenced the story: the 2019–20 Hong Kong protest movement, former House speaker Nancy Pelosi’s 2022 trip to Taiwan (which triggered both political denunciations from Chinese authorities and an uptick in China’s military drills in Taiwan’s surrounding waters), the growing strength of Chinese authoritarianism, and an American administration emulating authoritarian tactics, with support from significant portions of the electorate. As the journalist of this creative duo, Chan explains to Fadel that,

when [you] look at protest movements around the world, you look at Hong Kong, but also in Thailand, in Myanmar, it looks as if taking to the streets isn’t getting the kind of results that we used to see a few decades ago. And for me, it’s a big open question in terms of how citizens hold their government to account and how citizens can also push for their government to become more democratic.

Arguably, this line of thinking mirrors both Andy’s and Maggie’s respective struggles with extremist violence when they wonder if protests are consequential in the face of national, or even global, power structures.

Meanwhile, as the activist-artist who lives in exile in Australia, Badiucao expresses his desire for the graphic novel to inspire international readers to take action:

I do hope this story will reflect the direction of this world and be very blunt, particularly in the perspective of Chinese dissident artists that do not just se[e] the problem [a]s only in the Chinese government, but also se[e] the decay of democracy in the West, particularly in America at this moment, and need to grow up, not relying on any certain force, but make our own choice and change by ourself.

In this vein, Olivia’s growth over the course of the series appears to mirror Badiucao’s political intentionality, especially when it comes to standing up for one’s beliefs when facing the pressures of larger powers. While there are overly didactic moments that impede the narrative flow at times, You Must Take Part in Revolution offers compelling characters—as both young idealists at the story’s start and their older, somewhat wiser selves by the end—and an effective plot that provides access to broader questions about protest and the shape of resistance.

In sum, You Must Take Part in Revolution is an effective exploration of complex geopolitical events grounded in the struggles Andy, Maggie, and Olivia face, and the complicated relationships that emerge among them. In addition, the graphic novel sources its title from Mao Zedong’s “On Practice”: “If you want to know the theory and methods of revolution, you must take part in revolution. All genuine knowledge originates in direct experience.” On this point, You Must Take Part in Revolution also subtly suggests that reading about revolution isn’t enough; instead, it is our responsibility to engage with our own revolutions in order to gain true knowledge. You Must Take Part in Revolution is therefore not the end for the reader once they reach the final pages but is instead, hopefully, just the beginning.