Posts filed under 'Graphic Novel'
Judging from David Small’s award-winning children’s books illustrations, it’s hard to imagine that the same man is behind the dark tale recounted in the graphic novel memoir Stitches. Best known for his work with wife Sarah Stewart and his Caldecott Award-winning artwork in So You Want to be President?, Stitches reveals a painful past, yet one that Small somehow weaves a sense of hopefulness through with his art.
It’s no easy feat. Small grew up in postwar Detroit, the son of an oft-absent radiologist and an emotionally cold mother. A sickly boy with sinus problems, his father treated him with repeated doses of x-ray radiation. By the time he was in his early teens, Small had a lump on his throat that had developed into full-blown cancer, although his parents made a point of never telling him the true nature, or cause, of his condition. Waking up after an operation, Small discovers that not only does he have an ugly row of stitches down his neck, but one of his vocal chords was entirely removed. He was almost completely mute.
Small always found solace in drawing as a child, and his ink-washed artwork captures an extraordinary range of emotions, especially in capturing the subtleties of facial expressions. His use of lighting to strategically shade features and the inclusion of nightmare sequences lends a quasi-Hitchcockian cast to the story. It’s apt for this very internal story, filled with the effects of repression and silence.
Stitches was recently nominated for the National Book Award in the Young People’s Category, a choice that has generated some controversy given the dark subject matter, and the fact that graphic novels rarely get recognition by major awards. It is a haunting story, but there’s nothing that would be objectionable in Small’s story compared to many other modern-day young adult novels. In fact, anyone who hasn’t picked up a graphic novel may find Stitches to be the perfect way to get into the genre. Along with recent graphic memoirs such as Fun Home and Blankets, Stitches demonstrates brilliantly how image and text can blend into a powerful, captivating experience.
(Publisher’s Weekly article via Powell’s)
November 17th, 2009
Katie H.
I wish I had known this before I started reading The Color of Earth by Kim Dong Hwa: the author is a very famous creator of Korean manhwa, which is a general term for comics and cartoons in Korea, and it was a big deal for him to write a graphic novel series about women. I didn’t learn this until I read the afterword, and it really makes a difference in the story, at least for me.
The Color of Earth is the first in a trilogy featuring a young girl named Ehwa and her mother, a widowed tavern owner in a country village around the turn of the century in Korea. Ehwa ages from about seven years to fifteen in the first book and while she is experiencing a sexual awakening, her mother is experiencing a sexual re-awakening. This is where I wish I had known it was a big deal for this author to be writing about women, because I was initially skeptical. Something seemed a little off to me, and I wasn’t sure if it was the translation or the culture or the time period in which the story was set. After reading the very earnest author’s note and learning a little more about him and what he’s all about, I re-read the first book with a heightened sensitivity and it meant a lot more.
The second book in the trilogy, The Color of Water, was released in the U.S. earlier this summer and focuses on a teen-age Ehwa in her first serious love relationship and her mother’s on/off relationship with a traveling salesman. There’s a bit of a cliff-hanger at the end, with both mother and daughter basically left alone and in tears. The third book, The Color of Heaven, was released in September, so you won’t have to wait a long time to find out what happens to Ehwa and her mother, which is good, because you can’t help but want these two to be happy.
The artwork is exceptionally beautiful. There is so much attention to the Korean landscape, flowers and insects in particular, many of which are symbolic, that at times it is hard to keep going with the story. Your eyes will be busy appreciating the illustrations.
And the U.S. publication of the trilogy is tailor made for book groups, (if your book group is cool with sexual content in a graphic novel format). The second book has a reading guide in the back of the book and questions for groups that pertain to the relationships, the location and time period for books one and two. It’s a wonderful story and whether you are new to the genre or a die-hard fan of graphic novels, you won’t want to miss this.
October 1st, 2009
Molly - Central
It seems like Carol Tyler has been kicking around the comics scene since it was referred to as the underground comics scene. In the last few years, she’s turned her attention to the full-length graphic novel. Her latest, You’ll Never Know: A Graphic Memoir begins to tell the story of her father, Chuck Tyler, in words and pictures, with an effort to tell about his time in the army during World War II, as well as her life growing up with him and later with her own family.
Growing up it seems neither Chuck– nor most of the men of his generation who had served– spent much time talking about the war or their experiences. Even the photographs and souvenirs they kept were seldom spoken of, although they were kept and preserved with something like reverence. Carol had tried at various times to get her father to answer questions about the war, only to have him forcefully reject the overtures. Then, one night, forty years after the war, he calls her on the phone and spends two hours talking about the war. The phrase “rivers of blood” fairly leaps off of the page.
It’s a beautifully and cleverly done book, with some charming and imaginative illustrative and narrative techniques that cleverly glide from one era to another using overlapping dialogue and scenes that evolve. A really terrific piece of craftsmanship, it jumps nimbly between eras separated now by almost seventy years. It’s a fairly large-format book, with a cover suggesting it’s been made out of plywood, a sly salute to the working-class, can-do man that was her father. This particular volume is titled Book one: A Good and Decent Man. Her story of her father’s time in the army has only taken him to the shores of north Africa so far. Still, to come: Italy, France, and finally Germany. I’ll certainly be reading any future volumes that come out. But there’s more than a little trepidation about what will eventually be revealed.
At times charming and enthralling, and at other times emotionally wrenching, the story so far leads only to the edge of the war Chuck Tyler experienced. The title, “You’ll never know” appears in the lyrics of a love song from the era and it’s a sweet counterpoint to the scenes where young Chuck is wooing Carol’s mother on the dance floor. But it also hints at the dark side of the war (every war) that never seems to be revealed. Like Carol, I want to know her father’s story, but I’m more than a little afraid of what I’ll find out. The book’s title suggests a many-layered truth, not just about this one man, but about war itself.
If you’re interested in finding out more about author Carol Tyler, her website is here and there are numerous links to newspaper and magazine articles exploring her work as a teacher in the expanding field of “sequential art” (i.e. comics).
September 22nd, 2009
Dennis - Central
After reading Gene Luen Yang’s award-winning graphic novel American Born Chinese and Derek Kirk Kim’s award-winning Same Difference & Other Stories this past spring, I was very excited to read The Eternal Smile: Three Stories The Eternal Smile is a collaborative effort published this year through First Second Books in which Yang contributed the text while Kim provided the illustrations. Together, these two create a work that is divided into three stories that involve fantasy worlds as an escape from the humdrum or painful reality of existence in some way or another. And very much like the stories within Yang’s American Born Chinese, each story has an unexpected twist that manages to give an entirely new dimension and meaning.
In the first story Duncan’s Kingdom, Duncan is a young knight who is out to win the hand of the beautiful princess by avenging her father’s death and obtaining the head of his killer, the Frog King. Through his relationship with Brother Patchwork, he obtains a sword and ends up successfully beheading the Frog King, thereby winning the hand of the beautiful princess. Yet during the ceremony, a bird flies overhead with the Frog King’s “Snappy Cola” in its talons and the entire story shifts to a completely different reality.
In The Eternal Smile, Grandpa Greenbax, a power hungry frog, is constantly in search of the profitable money making adventure in order to build up his “pool o’ cash”. Filbert, Grandpa Greenbax’s right hand man, at one point takes Grandpa Greenbax to the “eternal smile” floating in the clouds in the middle of the desert as a means of calming Greenbax down. Still, Grandpa Greenbax suddenly realizes that such a strange and mysterious spectacle is enough to build a religion on, and hence, a money making escapade indeed! However, after initial success, his plans go awry and he is thrown into a fit of uncontrollable rage. It is at this point that the story takes a totally unexpected turn, and everything the reader thinks about the world of Grandpa Greenbax is completely turned on its head.
In the final story Urgent Request, Janet, a frumpy drone at a tech company, answers a Nigerian scam e-mail to liven up her drab personal and professional life. She creates a fantasy relationship with Prince Henry Alembu, exchanging several emails and sending him almost her entire life savings. Finally, upon a final request from Henry, she requests that they meet, and this proceeds into a series of events that reveals that Janet is not as blatantly naïve as the reader thinks.
Along with Yang’s storytelling, Kim’s drawings for each story are executed in entirely different styles ranging from bright cartoonish figures to light watercolor panels, giving each story a special visual feel. I highly recommend this book to both graphic novel and non-graphic novel enthusiasts as an example of how unique this genre is becoming in terms of both subject matter and aesthetic value. Check it out!
September 10th, 2009
Kathleen - Monroe Street
After first being introduced to Lilli Carre through her short-animated films What Hits The Moon and For the Birds (you can view them on her website), I have had my eyes on this young Chicago artist. Easily identified by the graphic trademark of the black triangle inside each character’s nose, Carre’s work is garnering attention through her features in the MIME series as well as Best American Comics of 2008.
In 2006, Top Shelf Productions put out Carre’s Tales of Woodsman Pete, a collection of stories featuring the solitary, thoughtful Woodsman Pete and the giant, sexually frustrated Paul Bunyan and his companion Babe, the blue ox. The stories are hilarious and disturbing, including Paul Bunyan accidentally engulfing Ms. Woodson while engaged in a passionate kiss while Woodsman Pete conducts endless conversations with his stuffed moose heads.
Still, most are considering her recent book The Lagoon to be her official debut graphic novel. In this tale, a family of four- a grandfather, his daughter, her husband and their daughter- live in a house near a black lagoon where an amphibious creature sings a beautiful song on certain summer nights. This deeply seductive song awakens people out of their sleep and leads them to the lagoon where they listen to and watch the creature intently until the song’s end. The listeners then safely return to their perspective homes, except on the rare occasion when a listener mysteriously disappears into the dark waters forever.
Throughout the course of the story, each member of the family hears and reacts to the seductive sounds of the lagoon creature in different ways. Zoey, the young girl, thinks the song sounds like “a cat in a bathtub” but then later obsessively plays the tune over and over again on the piano. The grandfather, completely mesmerized by the song, is deeply entranced by the creature and found later by Zoey in the lagoon spewing out such nonsense as “Wet the felines. Only in July, when it’s hot.” Zoey’s mother, who has apparently formed an intimate friendship with the lagoon creature, whispers to him over a cigarette, “I want to hear it tonight!” and then later is discovered by her husband shoulder-deep in the lagoon and in danger of disappearing forever.
Along with the lagoon creature’s song, other sounds continuously creep in and out of Carre’s story. The “tap tap tap” on the window, a cat’s “plank” over the piano keys, a metronome’s “tic tic tic”, the “zzzz” of night insects, and the “crunch” and “rustle” of dry leaves and reeds all lingered in my head long after closing the book. And the fact that each reader must imagine his or her own unique versions of each of these sounds, including the creature’s seductive song, gives this graphic novel an expansive, rather mysterious quality. This together with the strange, obscure storyline keeps the reader constantly wondering what lies beneath such simple, spooky situations.
For the most part, I found the book’s ambiguity extremely tantalizing. Still, parts of the story felt unnecessarily abbreviated, and I yearned for more of Carre’s playful details and action. It is perhaps obvious that this is her first major graphic novel, and I think it is reasonable to hope that her storytelling will expand and improve over time. On the other hand, her rich black and white ink drawings seem perfectly realized, reminiscent of old German woodblock prints in their density of tone and their use of negative/positive space. And the overall tone of the drawings has an equally eery as well as playful quality, perfectly mirroring the quirky, yet haunted story line.
I’d venture to guess that Carre’s popularity will increase over the next decade. And if The Lagoon is any indication of her appreciation of sound, I also think it is a probable guess that her work will likely veer more towards animation and film. However, in the meanwhile, I recommend you check out this graphic novel and take advantage of the unique opportunity to attempt your very own spooky soundtrack to Carre’s rich artwork.
August 19th, 2009
Kathleen - Monroe Street
If, like me, you’re a fan of last summer’s Iron Man movie (on DVD and Blu-Ray), writer Matt Fraction and artist Salvador Larroca have crafted a follow-up graphic novel that builds on some of the same themes and characters of the movie. It’s called The Invincible Iron Man : The Five Nightmares and deals with a question the movie had me thinking about after I saw it: Why isn’t Tony Stark building more Iron Man suits for others to use?
Turns out, Tony’s afraid of what could happen if someone else gets their hands on the technology– and his five nightmares are all variations on that theme. Because others wouldn’t be as trustworthy as billionaire, womanizing, recovering-alcoholics apparently. Not even the government Tony seems to slavishly serve (see the Marvel Civil War) nor the members of S.H.I.E.L.D., where he also serves as director, deserve that kind of power. No, there’s only one man who can wear the Iron Man suit.
Oh, but technology keeps moving forward, and what has been invented, can be re-invented/improved. Tony finds himself facing a new menace, Advanced Genocide Mechanics, a more-or-less one-man show with a familiar name running it, which is outfitting any and all suicide bombers with portable weapons of mass destruction– for a price. And all based on technology gleaned from developments of Stark Enterprises, Tony’s company. (Although, granted, this is comic book technology we’re talking here.)
Familiar faces returning from the movie include Tony’s right-hand woman Pepper Potts, and Jim Rhodes (in his “War Machine” persona), and bad guy Obadiah Stane (via flashback).
The bad news is Robert Downey Jr. doesn’t play Tony Stark/Iron Man in the graphic novel. The playfulness he brought to the role is missing, and the torment he feels knowing that his work is bringing death and destruction is somewhat lacking as well, at least compared to Downey’s performance. But Salvador Larroca’s artwork here is really spectacular, with rich colors and exquisite detail. This is one of the Marvel premiere edition volumes that really lives up to the name.
If you are a fan of the movie, or superhero comics in general, you should definitely give this one a try.
June 26th, 2009
Dennis - Central
Do you develop crushes on your favorite authors? I suppose it’s hard not to, especially if they write the kind of intimate memoirs of graphic novelist Jeffrey Brown. I’ve been a fan of Brown’s stories since I picked up his first novel, Clumsy, a few years ago. In a series of seemingly simple, yet expressive vignettes, Brown illustrates the highs, lows, and funny moments of his first love. What’s so impressive about this, his first book, and subsequent relationship-themed novels like Unlikely, AEIOU, and Every Girl is the End of the World for Me, is his ability to convey these private relationship moments with such candor, self-deprecation, and charming humor. His raw, almost shaky, drawing style lends to the feeling of reading someone’s quickly scribbled diary. It’s hard not to fall in love.
I was so delighted to see a new Jeffrey Brown book in our “Don’t Miss Lists” recently. Funny Misshapen Body largely departs from the girlfriend chronicles to focus on Brown’s career development as an artist and his struggle with Crohn’s disease. As a kid, Brown loved to draw but didn’t know comics would be the outlet for his art. The journey to write Clumsy involved painting thousands of wooden shoes in college, enduring critiques as an MFA student at the Art Institute of Chicago, befriending legendary graphic novelist Chris Ware, and stumbling upon Quimby’s bookstore in Chicago. For the best context to the story, it’s worth reading Clumsy or any of his other books first before picking up this one.
Perhaps most impressive in Funny Misshapen Body is Brown’s detailing of his life with Crohn’s disease. The hospital scenes are quite personal, but he portrays these experiences with honesty, sensitivity, and an endearing wide-eyed curiosity. This was refreshing after I recently struggled through Charlotte Roche’s Wetlands–see Dennis’ smart review here– which tackles similar medical descriptions with far less heart and poignancy. Jeffrey was certainly an unlucky kid to have to endure these procedures, but such experiences clearly made him a more empathetic writer.
Despite this being his 8th graphic novel, Jeffrey Brown seems to be overlooked by many graphic novel readers. If you’re a fan of Craig Thompson, Adrian Tomine, Dan Clowes, or Harvey Pekar, and haven’t read any Jeffrey Brown, do yourself a favor and pick up his books. But I’ll warn you ahead of time: his most recent author bio says he’s already taken.
June 18th, 2009
Rebecca - Monroe Street
The Education of Hopey Glass is the latest published work I’ve seen from Jaime Hernandez and it was one of the more enjoyable works I had the pleasure of reading (and re-reading) in the past year.
Jaime has been drawing comics since the early eighties. He and his brother Gilbert (Beto) have been collaborating on the Love and Rockets comic book pretty much ever since. But they’ve also been working independently of each other. Gilbert’s stories usually center around the citizens of a fictitious central American town called Palomar. While Jaime’s stories usually involve a group living in a Los Angeles area barrio. Two of Jaime’s main characters are Maggie and Hopey. And yes, I kind of fell in love with Maggie all those years ago. So did Hopey. So did Ray.
I never cared too much for Hopey, though. Not just because she’s my rival for Maggie’s affection. (For one thing, she’s a smoker– bleh). Hopey always seemed to be the one who was causing trouble–just for the fun of it. Maggie always seemed to go along, but she was never the instigator. Maybe that’s just faulty memory on my part. A lot of years have gone by and it shows in the characters. These people have all changed with the passage of time– particularly Maggie (that “Snickers diet” really changed her).
In this collection Hopey is now living with another woman, tending bar in the evening, and preparing to start a new job as a teacher’s assistant. She’s also starting to realize that she, and everyone around her, is aging. That doesn’t happen often in comics. Her new job as a teacher’s assistant for a class of kindergarten kids is a change for her, where the teacher she is partnered with keeps insisting that Hopey must talk to the kids, rather than forcing her will upon them.
Ray appears in the stories in the second half of the book, and he’s starting to feel his years too. In contrast to the stories dealing with Hopey, Ray conveys much of his story with a more-or-less internal monologue, sharing his thoughts and feelings with the reader in a way that Hopey never does. His job situation, like Hopey’s, is changing as well, and he too is nervous about taking on the added responsibility. He also becomes involved with Vivian (a woman he refers to as The Frogmouth) a dancer, aspiring actress, all around sexpot, and something of a willing victim to many of the more violent men in her life. It’s a pretty desperate world that she’s skirting the edge of, and Ray seems to be the one decent thing in her life, despite her more-than-occasional demeaning treatment of him. It’s a complicated, disturbing and yet enthralling situation. Oh, and Viv claims that she and Maggie were also lovers.
I should note that the stories/scenes are fairly short bits of narrative– usually about four pages long with six panels per page. There’s also a charming new (secondary?) character called Angel, young enough to still be innocent about lots of things, who appears in some short scenes of her own in the middle of the book. She also appears in stories with Hopey and Ray, too. As does Maggie. But Ray and Hopey never interact with each other in these stories.
Part of what I like so much about this work is the contrast between Hopey and Ray. And the parallels, now that I think about it. Hopey ignores the emotional needs of her live-in lover. Ray is often being verbally emasculated by Vivian. Hopey can’t drive and needs rides from people she eventually seems to alienate. Ray spends his time driving Viv and her friend to acting auditions. Hopey never seems to think, she just acts. Ray spends most of his time agonizing about how to get back with Maggie, but he can’t seem to do anything about it.
Id versus ego.
I also recommend this book it for the art work (and not just because there are pictures of naked women either). I always liked Jaime’s art a little better than his brother’s. It always seemed a little more realistic that Beto’s. Though the work of both brothers is done predominantly in black-and-white (and throughout this volume), Jaime’s lines were always a little straighter, the figures more naturalistic, the facial expressions more evocative.
And there are some striking illustrations included at the back of the book that show some of the characters in some more artistic poses. One is a collection of what appear to be school pictures of Hopey, probably from kindergarten right on up through high school and it’s a fascinating progression of her from a youngster with a toothless smile, to a sullen punk with short, bleached hair and sunglasses, to a demure, lovely photo of her around prom time wearing what appears to be a tuxedo. Ray appears in a more film-noirish setting, with contrasting shadows, while Vivian and her girl friend hover in the background.
You might be wondering, with this being an ongoing series, whether this is a good time for a new reader to dive in to this story. Well, you’ve gotta start somewhere. And we do have most of the Love and Rockets books currently in print on our shelves. Think of it as a soap opera told in panels. And it’s every bit as compelling– in a good way. Like most long-running soap operas, there’s a good reason why the story has been going on as long as it has. These are interesting stories involving people we’ve come to care about.
May 13th, 2009
Dennis - Central
I’ve just got to tell you about three new graphic novel series that fall into the cool, smart girls with special powers category. All three are very exciting.
The first is Gunnerkrigg Court. Volume 1, Orientation by Tom Siddell. This collection was originally published as a webcomic. I have not gotten into the habit of reading webcomics, because I forget to regularly check the site and then I lose my place in the story. A print collection is more my speed. And this is a really nice collection. The paper used in this book is of a very fine quality and gloss which makes a big difference with the highly saturated illustrations. Now on to the story: Gunnerkrigg Court is a dark, industrial complex that serves as a boarding school and mysterious community of creatures, robots and humans with special powers. The main character, Antimony, is a seventh grade girl whose parents also attended Gunnerkrigg Court. Her mother has recently died and her father has abandoned her. Sort of a Harry Potter for girls, the story weaves in elements of magic, folklore, technology and of course, relationships. It’s all very cool and curious. I’m ready for Volume 2!
Amulet. Book 1, The Stonekeeper by Kazu Kibuishi is more of a thrill ride. Emily and Navin and their mother move to a dilapidated family estate after their father is killed in a car accident. The original owner of the estate was Emily’s great grandfather, an inventor and magician of sorts. There is way more adventure in this book than I require, but for those who need a new chase on every other page, this book delivers. Fast paced and action-packed, the Amulet will appeal to both boy and girl readers, fans of video games, anime and yes, thrill rides.
And for a darker tale featuring faeries, silkies and swanmaidens, give The Good Neighbors. Book 1, Kin by Holly Black a try. This is the first graphic novel by the popular author of the Spiderwick Chronicles and YA Modern Faerie Tale series. This one’s definitely for older readers. Sixteen-year-old Rue Silver’s mother disappears in a menacing way and Rue starts seeing the world in a new light. She learns that she is half human/half faerie and that all is not what it seems in either world. This novel is illustrated in what I would describe as a more traditional black and white goth/fantasy style. This story is so full of twists and surprises that I can hardly wait until Kith comes out in October.
Of the three, Gunnerkrigg Court is definitely my favorite, but I highly recommend them all for girl graphic novel fans.
May 2nd, 2009
Molly - Central
This is the second go-round for Neil Gaiman and Dave McKean’s graphic novel Signal to Noise, it having been published previously around 1992 in a somewhat different form. And while the thrill factor I usually get from reading new works by Neil doesn’t surround this volume, it’s still a pretty thought- and introspection-provoking work. The apocalypse referred to in this review’s title is brought up for discussion early on in the story and is a thematic element throughout.
The year is 1999 and a film director in London has just received the news that he has cancer. Rather than undergo treatment for it, he begins writing a film that he knows he will never have the chance to complete. It’s the story of a small mountain village on the last day of the last month of the year 999. The residents are gathering outside their village in the snow, waiting for the end of the world that they know is coming. The director becomes obsessed with finishing the story. Partly for the people in the film he is writing– if he doesn’t write down their story, those (fictitious) people will die with him.
And so he writes. We’re seeing the images that’s he’s contructing in his head, and reading the dialogue that will be in the film, but the story of his last days is added as well, his contacts with his producer and his interactions with the upstairs neighbor who checks in on him. And, of course, his thoughts about his life and work and the death that he knows is coming for him, just as surely as the people of that mountain village know that their world will come to an end. It’s a story seemingly without much hope, just an approaching sadness with the inevitability we all seem to want to avoid facing, and a past we can look back on filled with cherished memories and haunting regrets.
Neil Gaiman’s narrative style works as well as it ever has, even though the story seems so bleak. (And please, if you haven’t yet read any of Gaiman’s work, do yourself a favor. It is that good.) Dave McKean’s art is, from my point of view anyway, less user-friendly than a typical comic-book fan would expect. He tends to use an abstract style that demands more attention than is usually demanded by most graphic novels. For instance, there’s a sequence late in the book where the people on the snowy mountain are viewed from a great distance, their dark figures against the snow appearing to be some familiar pattern, which is revealed in a transition to a panel farther along which seems similar to the mountain scene, but slowly reveals itself to be the ridges of someone’s fingerprint in extreme close-up.
That’s partly the point of the whole work anyway. The book title refers to the meaning (the signal) we’re trying to discern from all the streams of information (the noise) that threaten to overwhelm us. Like the snow in a poorly received video connection (pre-cable/satellite days) that obscures the message we know is buried in there somewhere.
This is a highly evocative work, filled with nuance and sadness and wonder. And hope.
I should note that McKean includes some additional art works, interspersed throughout the book that exist separate from the main story that are even more experimental. While they’re compelling in their own way, they don’t relate directly to the main story written with Gaiman.
April 16th, 2009
Dennis - Central
Guy Delisle is a Canadian-born resident of France who has worked as an animator all over Europe and in Asia. His peripatetic career has taken him to some unusual locations — and he creates graphic novels documenting his sojourns.
The first two are Pyongyang: A Journey in North Korea and Shenzhen: A Travelogue from China. In both, Delisle uses his experiences working for an extended period of time in locations not visited by tourists. Misunderstandings and culture shock are themes shared in these two books — along with Delisle’s gentle cynicism. He pokes fun at institutional hypocrisies and relates encounters with people, recording events both mundane and surreal.
Delisle is not writing travelogues (regardless of his subtitles), these are assemblages of anecdotes — he spends a lot of time in hotel rooms and offices and very little traveling to landmarks or features. Nevertheless, he is able to convey his experiences so vividly that reading his work makes you feel as if you have been transported with him.
The illustrations give rare visual images of places where cameras are forbidden though Delisle’s artwork has a cartoony style and is deceptively simple. With everything rendered with minimal lines and in shades of gray, his depictions have the focused clarity of black-and-white photos. Architectural details, traffic, clothing styles and street scenes are meticulously drawn, often without comment, allowing the reader to soak up backgrounds without being fully aware of it.
Delisle’s latest graphic novel, Burma Chronicles, finds him in a new country, on a much longer stay and in a slightly different role. He is accompanying his wife, a Médecins Sans Frontières administrator and his primary job is caretaker of their baby son, Louis.
Anyone who has ever travelled with a baby will immediately connect with Delisle’s travails with Louis. He also experiences the peculiar phenomenon of caretaker invisibility that occurs when pushing a cute baby in a stroller. Louis opens doors in this closed country and Delisle’s walks with the baby (and the fact that he is living in a neighborhood, not a hotel) give the newest title a richer flavor than the two earlier works.
One of the neighbors is Aung San Suu Kyi, winner of the 1991 Nobel Peace Prize, living a cloistered life under house arrest. Discovering her proximity, Delisle attempts to wander down her street with Louis, only to be firmly rebuffed at a guard station. References to The Lady recur throughout the book, her invisible presence is covered in ways that are powerful and affecting.
Terrible glimpses of human rights abuses and of the difficulties and frustrations facing Médecins Sans Frontières staff creep into Burma Chronicles. And the pervasive grimness of life under a powerful military regime is brought into high focus in one memorable passage, where Delisle finds out his negative commentary on Burma to a visiting journalist resulted in a foreign news article that might seriously endanger the life of one of his Burmese acquaintances.
The isolationist government’s maddening oppression along with the the other ills plagueing Burma would render a more direct approach too sorrowful to read about. Guy Delisle’s graphic novels provide a sympathetic outsider’s view to some of the most closed off parts of the world. They are terrific examples of how powerfully words and pictures can combine to carry the reader into the story.
If after reading these you are like me and just can’t get enough, you could visit his terrific website which provides a lot of additonal information about his books.
March 18th, 2009
Barbara - Alicia Ashman
Have you read any books set in Côte d’Ivoire?
I hadn’t. There seems to be little written in English about this beautiful and interesting country, other than bleak news accounts of ongoing strife, economic hardship, poverty, and public health woes. However, two recently translated graphic novels show Ivorians in a different light– depicting ordinary people who generally enjoy themselves, while dealing with the universal complications of everyday life (difficult relatives, office politics, friends who are making bad choices).
Author Marguerite Abouet and her husband, illustrator Clément Oubrerie have created a delicious domestic comedy in their graphic novels, Aya and Aya of Yop City (additional volumes have been released in France but are yet-to-be published in English). Abouet deliberately set out to write a book set in Africa that depicted both people and place in a positive way – and she has done that spectacularly! Oubrerie’s richly colored art, alive with expression and subtly detailed backgrounds, shares the storytelling faultlessly.
The books are set in a comfortable suburban neighborhood in Yopougon (Yop City), part of the metropolitan area of the coastal city, Abidjan. The time period is the late 1970s and Abidjan (the “Paris of West Africa”) is prospering. The stories revolve around a young woman, Aya, and her family, friends and neighbors.
19-year-old Aya and her girlfriends are exploring who they are and what they want to be: serious Aya wants to continue her education and become a doctor, while her pals Bintou and Adjoua would rather be out dancing and chasing (and being pursued by) a tempting array of young men. One fateful evening encounter leaves Adjoua pregnant…and her father incensed.
A shot-gun wedding and an enormous reception soon follow. The first book, Aya, ends on a cliff-hanger, with everyone admiring Adjoua’s handsome baby. The second book, Aya of Yop City, begins with the wealthy, imperious parents of goofy newlywed Moussa questioning whether he is truly the father of Adjoua’s beautiful baby.
Social climbing and class struggles, generational conflicts, and all kinds of complicated relationships swirl though the books. There is a big cast of characters, but Oubrerie’s lively and expressive artwork make each individual distinctive and easily identifiable. The second book ends with another bombshell — the kind of situation that would shake up any family — and will leave you happily anticipating the third volume.
The author and illustrator live in France, but Abouet is Ivorian-born and Oubrerie is a frequent visitor to the Côte d’Ivoire. Their smooth collaboration is a lot of fun to read, a frothy soap opera full of riotous color. In Aya and Aya of Yop City, Abouet and Ouberie offer an introduction to people and place that leave the reader eager to return.
January 26th, 2009
Barbara - Alicia Ashman
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