Do Admit! The Mitford Sisters and Me
By Mimi Pond
Drawn & Quarterly
Published September 16, 2025
Mimi Pond is an inveterate storyteller. I mean that in the most literal way possible. You might know some of her works. Maybe. They’re pretty obscure.
There was Pee-wee‘s Playhouse (husband/Artist Wayne White was the show’s production artist and puppeteer). She had a turn on “Designing Women” as well. If either of those shows fall before your time, there’s a little longest running show in TV history called The Simpsons for which she helped write at the inaugural episode.
I know her from all those shows, but I’m most fond of her work in comics, particularly her autobiographies Over Easy and The Customer is Always Wrong. The books center on her years as a server at Oakland's legendary Mama’s Royal Café after graduating from CCA (then still CCAC, with a campus in Oakland). Her fluid, almost cursive style of drawing evokes an Oakland of yore, and breathes life into memories. At turns hilarious and heartbreaking, the books are as much about their time and place—Oakland and the turn of the 80s—as the author’s own coming of age.
Pond’s talent for storytelling centers partially on her ability to be provocative without exploiting. Her prose is full of asides, folksy sayings and deep cultural references, without muddying her through line or lapsing into nostalgia. She puts her storytelling prowess to good use in her latest graphic novel, Do Admit! The Mitford Sisters and Me.
The Mitford sisters were six eccentric, not quite wealthy, aristocratic, English women. Their uncle was Winston Churchill (yes, that Winston Churchill). The sisters, born between 1904 and 1920, lead lives that would be extraordinary by any standards. While there were considerable privileges availed to them, one that was not was higher education, to their collective and eternal chagrin. But they didn’t let that stop them, for both good and ill.
Among the sisters were two ardent fascists, Diana and Unity, both personally acquainted with Hitler (yes, that Hitler). The eldest, Nancy, became a best selling author. Jessica also became a best selling author as well as one-time communist, correspondent for the Spanish Civil War and community organizer. Sister Deborah became a Duchess and Pamela liked chickens. A lot.
Their lives spanned of the 20th century and the globe. They were born in interesting times, living through the Depression, witnessing the rise of fascism in England, Germany and beyond, the Cold War, and the Civil Rights Movement. Given the contradicting loyalties and opposing world views between camps there was tension, but it played out through the most extravagantly polite, baroque and bitingly sardonic language. Their wit was legendary, delivered in letters, telegrams, books, and political campaigns; rarely in person (that would’ve been gauche). Pond expertly curates her exhaustively researched book for the best, most telling dialogue and quips, as well as adding her own. Language expands the palate beyond the duotone in which the book is printed.
The “and Me “ in the title is Pond, of course, in reference to the parasocial relationship she carried on with the sisters for decades. Pond draws parallels between their very different origins. Pond, born in the Baby Boom to a liberal, middle class, suburban, Southern California family, strained against the norms and expectations of her day as well. She longed for something more than what was on offer in her neighborhood, school and TV.
Pond creates tableaux and collages as beautiful and innovative workarounds for the T.H.S. (Talking Head Syndrome) common to graphic biographies. It also elegantly condenses potentially ungainly plot points, details and timelines. I was particularly fond of her combination Fritz Lang Expressionist/Pre-code Hollywood Musical distillation of the post-Victorian finishing school to marriage pipeline.
It’s odd, given the host of unrelatableness that surrounded them, but Pond succeeds in making the sisters relatable, though it strains for a couple. Jessica’s story emerges from the rest; her pluckiness, idealism and rebellious nature make her irresistible. She was HELLA Oakland, turning her back on the family’s customs and money, and diving fearlessly into America.
Pond spent four years putting together Do Admit!. When she started the book, America had decisively turned its back on Trump and MAGA, albeit by a tiny margin. Then it reversed course and went all in for fascism. It is strange to enjoy a book that talks so much about fascism while being in the middle of a full-blown dictatorship. We’re past the inflection point for creeping dictatorship both domestic and abroad. And so much of this book, though almost a century on, remains frustratingly similar, from race relations to political corruption.
The book is a fun, thought provoking and expansive read. I can’t recommend it highly enough. Get it before it’s banned.
