Ben Aaronovitch’s Water Weed is probably the most divisive of the Rivers of London graphic novels so far. On the one hand it continues the series tradition of delivering witty supernatural police procedural storytelling wrapped up in excellent artwork and deeply entertaining worldbuilding. On the other hand it also leans far too heavily into sexualised imagery and awkward adult content that never really feels necessary to the story being told. Like the earlier comics, Water Weed works best when it focuses on Peter Grant investigating magical weirdness around London. Unfortunately, it occasionally gets distracted trying far too hard to be edgy and provocative.

The central plot follows Peter and Beverley Brook investigating a magical cannabis operation linked to werelight weed, a supernatural drug being distributed along the Thames by a mysterious criminal known as the Hoodette. The setup itself is actually quite entertaining. The Rivers of London universe has always excelled at blending ordinary crime with bizarre magical concepts, and the idea of magical narcotics affecting both mundane and supernatural communities fits naturally into the world Aaronovitch has created. There is a familiar rhythm to the investigation, with Peter balancing detective work, magical experimentation, and increasingly dangerous confrontations while trying to keep the chaos under control. As always, the procedural side of the storytelling helps ground even the stranger elements. 

One of the strengths of Water Weed is how comfortable the creative team has become with the comic format. By this stage, Aaronovitch and Andrew Cartmel clearly understand how to pace these shorter side stories, allowing quieter character moments to sit naturally alongside action scenes and supernatural reveals. Peter remains an engaging protagonist because his voice translates so well into comics. His dry humour, constant curiosity, and tendency to overthink absolutely everything still make him enjoyable company even when the story itself wanders a little. The supporting cast also gets plenty to do, especially Beverley, who remains one of the strongest personalities in the wider Rivers of London universe.

The comic also continues the series tradition of exploring corners of magical London that the novels only briefly touch upon. The criminal underworld surrounding the werelight weed operation feels grubby and believable, while the magical elements add just enough absurdity to stop things becoming too grounded. The idea of river goddesses becoming entangled in low level criminal enterprise is exactly the sort of strange concept that Rivers of London often handles extremely well. There is an almost playful energy to parts of the story, particularly during the investigation scenes where Peter and Nightingale slowly piece together exactly what is happening.

That said, Water Weed also contains some of the weakest creative decisions in the entire comic run. One of the biggest issues is the way the younger river goddesses are sexualised throughout large sections of the story. Chelsea and Olympia in particular are often framed less as interesting supernatural characters and more as excuses for fanservice. It becomes distracting surprisingly quickly, especially because the wider Rivers of London series generally handles its female cast far better than this. The novels certainly contain sexual humour and adult relationships, but Water Weed pushes things into territory that feels unnecessary and occasionally uncomfortable.

The most frustrating example is the inclusion of a sex scene that adds very little to either the plot or the character development. Instead of deepening the emotional connection between Peter and Beverley, it mostly interrupts the pacing and draws attention to itself in a way that feels oddly self indulgent. It is not offensive so much as pointless. The story already has enough personality and chemistry between the characters without needing to stop for an extended sequence that ultimately contributes very little. Because the rest of the comic is generally quite strong, moments like this stand out even more awkwardly.

What makes these choices particularly disappointing is that there is actually a very entertaining supernatural crime story underneath them. The Hoodette works reasonably well as an antagonist, the mystery surrounding the magical drug trade remains engaging throughout, and there are several genuinely funny exchanges scattered across the book. Aaronovitch and Cartmel still understand the appeal of this world, even if Water Weed occasionally loses sight of what actually makes the series charming. The balance between humour, folklore, procedural detail, and magical chaos remains mostly intact despite the occasional stumble.

Thankfully, the artwork remains absolutely superb throughout and does a great deal to elevate the material. Lee Sullivan continues to prove that he is perhaps the perfect artist for the Rivers of London universe. His version of London feels lived in, cluttered, damp, and believable while still allowing the supernatural elements to stand out visually. Whether the story is taking place in cramped back rooms, along the Thames, or inside strange magical hideouts, every environment feels grounded and textured. Sullivan has an excellent eye for body language and facial expressions, which helps keep conversations lively even during exposition heavy scenes.

The action sequences are particularly strong in Water Weed. Magical confrontations are clear, energetic, and easy to follow, while quieter investigative scenes maintain strong visual pacing throughout. Sullivan understands when to let panels breathe and when to increase the sense of chaos. The werelight weed hallucinations also give the comic some visually inventive moments, with the supernatural effects rendered in ways that feel eerie without becoming overly abstract. The artwork consistently captures both the humour and danger of the Rivers of London universe. (turn0search5)

The colouring deserves praise as well. Luis Guerrero and Paulina Vassileva both contribute strong atmospheric work that enhances the supernatural tone without overwhelming the grounded aesthetic. The comic often uses muted colours and heavy shadows to reinforce the grimier side of magical London, but knows exactly when to introduce bursts of brighter colour during magical moments. The result is a comic that looks consistently polished from beginning to end. Even readers frustrated by some of the storytelling choices will probably still appreciate just how attractive the book is visually.

One thing the Rivers of London comics consistently understand is that London itself should feel like a character. Water Weed continues that tradition successfully. The Thames, side streets, pubs, estates, and hidden magical corners all contribute to the atmosphere in ways that make the setting feel tangible. Aaronovitch’s affection for London remains obvious throughout the story, and the comic medium arguably enhances that aspect even further by allowing the city to dominate entire sequences visually. The blend of urban fantasy and police procedural still works remarkably well because the setting always feels believable beneath the magical chaos.

Another positive aspect of Water Weed is the continued chemistry between Peter and Beverley. Even though the comic occasionally overplays the sexual side of their relationship, the quieter interactions between them remain enjoyable. There is a comfortable familiarity to their dialogue that helps maintain the warmth running underneath the series. Peter still feels like the same overworked, sarcastic, endlessly curious policeman readers know from the novels, while Beverley retains her mixture of confidence, unpredictability, and supernatural authority. Their relationship works best during ordinary conversations rather than the more forced intimate scenes.

The comic also benefits from its willingness to embrace some genuinely odd magical concepts. Werelight weed is ridiculous in theory, but Rivers of London has always thrived when it commits fully to strange ideas. One of the pleasures of the series is watching Peter try to apply rational detective logic to increasingly absurd magical situations. Water Weed still delivers plenty of those moments, especially once the larger supernatural implications of the drug operation begin to emerge. The comic may occasionally meander, but it rarely becomes boring because the world itself remains consistently entertaining.

Even so, Water Weed is probably less tightly focused than some earlier graphic novel entries. Body Work and Cry Fox both felt slightly more cohesive in terms of pacing and structure, while Water Weed occasionally drifts between plot threads without fully committing to any one of them. Some characters disappear for stretches of the story, while certain subplots feel underdeveloped by the time the finale arrives. The comic remains enjoyable throughout, but there is a sense that the creative team had too many ideas competing for space at once.

That said, one of the smartest aspects of the Rivers of London comics remains their understanding that these stories are fundamentally optional side adventures rather than mandatory instalments in the core narrative. Water Weed works best when approached as an interlude or side quest within the wider series. Readers following only the novels are not missing crucial plot developments or essential character arcs if they skip the comics entirely. That distinction is important because it prevents the graphic novels from ever feeling like required homework.

Instead, the comics operate as bonus material for fans who simply want to spend more time in Aaronovitch’s version of magical London. They deepen the world, flesh out supporting characters, and provide entertaining smaller scale investigations without disrupting the flow of the main novels. Water Weed absolutely fits into that category. It expands the universe in fun ways, but nothing here is essential to understanding the larger story arc running through the prose books. For many readers, that balance will actually make the comic more appealing rather than less.

There is also something refreshing about how self contained these graphic novels generally remain. Modern fantasy franchises often fall into the trap of demanding that audiences consume endless supplementary material just to follow the central plot. Rivers of London largely avoids that problem. The comics reward dedicated fans without punishing casual readers. Water Weed may reference ongoing relationships and established magical lore, but it never feels like a critical missing chapter hidden outside the main novels. That makes the comic feel more relaxed and experimental in tone, even when the execution occasionally falters.

In many ways, Water Weed feels like a comic that almost works better in retrospect than during individual scenes. While reading it, the awkward sexualisation and uneven pacing can occasionally become frustrating. Looking back afterward, though, the stronger elements tend to linger more clearly in memory. The artwork remains excellent throughout, the supernatural mystery is entertaining, and the dialogue still captures the distinctive Rivers of London tone remarkably well. Even when the comic stumbles, it rarely loses its personality.

Peter Grant himself continues to carry much of the series on pure charm alone. Aaronovitch has always written him as someone caught awkwardly between scientific curiosity, magical insanity, and ordinary police work, and that combination remains consistently compelling. Peter’s narration helps hold Water Weed together during its weaker moments because his perspective on events is almost always entertaining. His tendency to analyse magical phenomena with near academic enthusiasm still provides some of the comic’s funniest material.

The supporting cast also continues to benefit from the comic format. Nightingale remains quietly brilliant whenever he appears, effortlessly balancing old fashioned wizard authority with dry understatement. Beverley’s sisters bring energy and unpredictability to the story even when the comic oversexualises them, while side characters like Lana Blanding continue to add texture to the wider magical community surrounding the Folly. One of the advantages of these side stories is that they can afford to spend time with secondary characters who might otherwise receive less attention in the novels.

Another strength worth mentioning is the comic’s sense of humour. Even during darker or stranger moments, Water Weed never loses the understated wit that defines Rivers of London as a whole. Much of the humour comes from the contrast between mundane police procedure and outright magical absurdity. Watching Peter attempt to investigate supernatural narcotics with the seriousness of an ordinary detective case remains inherently amusing. The dialogue still feels natural and distinctly British in tone, full of sarcasm, understatement, and weary acceptance of increasingly ridiculous circumstances.

At the same time, Water Weed occasionally demonstrates the limitations of the comic format compared to the novels. Aaronovitch’s prose often allows more room for Peter’s internal thoughts, detailed explanations of magical theory, and affectionate digressions about London architecture or history. The comics necessarily move faster, which sometimes makes plot developments feel more abrupt than they would in prose form. Water Weed handles this reasonably well overall, but there are moments where certain ideas feel compressed or underexplored because of the shorter format.

Even with those limitations, though, the Rivers of London comics remain enjoyable largely because they preserve the spirit of the novels so effectively. Water Weed still feels unmistakably like part of the same universe. The blend of folklore, bureaucracy, humour, and magical investigation remains intact, and the comic medium often enhances the visual aspects of the setting in ways prose cannot. Sullivan’s artwork in particular helps make magical London feel immediate and tangible.

It is also worth acknowledging that reactions to Water Weed tend to vary more than with some earlier entries. Some readers enjoy the more chaotic, adult tone and appreciate the comic’s willingness to push further into criminal underworld territory. Others find the pacing uneven and the sexual content distracting. The divide is understandable because Water Weed genuinely does contain both some very entertaining material and some questionable creative decisions. It is probably the least consistent of the Rivers of London graphic novels up to this point, but also one of the more memorable because of that inconsistency.

Personally, the unnecessary sexualisation ultimately prevents Water Weed from ranking among the stronger entries in the comic series despite its many strengths. The younger river goddesses deserved better than being reduced to visual titillation quite so often, and the extended sex scene contributes almost nothing worthwhile to the overall narrative. Those elements do not ruin the comic entirely, but they do undermine parts of what otherwise could have been a stronger and more focused supernatural crime story.

Thankfully, the quality of the artwork goes a long way toward compensating for those flaws. Lee Sullivan’s visuals continue to elevate the Rivers of London comics enormously, bringing atmosphere, energy, and personality to every page. Even weaker story beats remain readable because the comic always looks so good. The environments feel authentic, the characters expressive, and the magical effects visually inventive without becoming excessive. Few urban fantasy comics manage to create such a convincing sense of place.

Ultimately, Water Weed remains an entertaining if uneven addition to the Rivers of London universe. It delivers plenty of the humour, supernatural weirdness, and investigative charm that fans expect from the series, while also suffering from some frustratingly unnecessary creative choices regarding sexuality and tone. The comic never quite reaches the consistency of Body Work or Cry Fox, but it still contains enough strong material to justify the journey.

Most importantly, it continues the broader success of the Rivers of London graphic novels as enjoyable supplementary adventures rather than essential narrative obligations. These comics function best as side-quests and interludes that expand the world without becoming mandatory reading for the main series. Water Weed absolutely fits that mould. Fans who want more time with Peter Grant and magical London will likely enjoy it despite its flaws, while readers sticking solely to the prose novels can safely skip it without missing anything vital.

That flexibility remains one of the greatest strengths of the entire comic line. They enrich the Rivers of London universe without overcomplicating it, allowing readers to dip in and out depending on interest. Water Weed may be flawed, awkward, and occasionally frustrating, but it is still recognisably part of a world that remains deeply entertaining to spend time in.

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