Illustration credited to Shannon Wright for NPR
Glen Weldon and Petra Mayer of NPR present a remarkable list of 100 comics for a variety of readers. The comics are sorted into ten categories, and the helpful annotations are concise.
The summer certainly is an opportune time for readers of all ages to choose formats that are new to them . . . but this bibliography will be useful year-round!
http://www.npr.org/2017/07/12/533862948/lets-get-graphic-100-favorite-comics-and-graphic-novels
Notions of free-form hitchhiking (no itinerary, just scraps of money, no end in sight!) can thrill or chill. Today is the Last Day of the Rest of Your Life (Ulli Lust’s comic translated from German to English, 2013), is a memoir that does both.
Impulsively at age 17, Ulli roams through Italy for a few months with her insistent new friend, Edi. Eventually, they are ensnared at the beck and call of powerful men. Each of the two women must decide to stay, to bolt . . . or go home.
Ulli and Edi are adventurous to the point of brashness. Their journey is thrilling, with new sights, adventures, sex explorations, cocky plans for meals and shelter, and lots of laughs. The journey is also chilling, with encountering men (some aggressive, some pathetic, and most raring to go at it), taking street drugs, skirting violence, and spending time in jail.
Ulli’s journey fills 462 riveting comics pages. Reading through is like being on a roller coaster, rising then plummeting, wishing the experience would never end, and working hard to suck in a breath. There is a deluge to digest: tattoos, vomit, wine, murmurs in the dark, pubic lice, hairdos (prominent visuals in this comic), Nazis, music, rape, and hunger. But there are also small, sweet oases of starlight, satisfaction, and dreams.
After absorbing Ulli Lust’s provocative memoir in comics form, readers will want more to feel, see, and ponder. The following titles can keep the journey going:
MUSIC: Kind of Blue (Miles Davis, 1959) ◊ A classic, accessible and profound jazz album to relish after the comic’s last page (or for listening while reading).
MUSIC: Blind Faith (Blind Faith, 1969) ◊ Music about emotions, finding purpose, and facing the future. [This groundbreaking album established firm footing in Western popular culture just preceding Ulli Lust’s journey, making its style a part of the social scene of the times.]
PHOTOGRAPHS: Eye to Eye (Vivian Maier, 2013) ◊ “Eye to eye” portraits taken on streets around the world by a woman who kept these images with her personal belongings.
BOOK: Living Through This: A Mother’s Memoir of Runaway Daughters and Reclaimed Love (Debra Gwartney, 2009) ◊ A memoir of family abandoned and family reconciled, told by a mother who searched for her daughters in San Francisco.
BOOK: On the Road (Jack Kerouac, 1957) ◊ A 20th century ‘Beat Generation’ classic about searching for meaning and growth on a cross country road trip.
BOOK: Girl (Blake Nelson, 1994) ◊ A literary look at the transition from stereotypical teen to non-conforming, satisfied young woman.
GRAPHIC NOVEL: Little Fish: A Memoir From a Different Kind of Year (Ramsey Beyer, 2013) ◊ A girl from small-town America goes to college in the city, documenting changes and transitions in her life with a journal and artwork.
GRAPHIC NOVEL: We Can Never Go Home (Matthew Rosenberg, 2015) ◊ Two teens leave home and can never go back. They have music, a car, cash, a gun, and some unusual capabilities.
FILM: Submarine (Mary Burke et al. [Producers]; Richard Ayoade [Writer/Director]; 2011) ◊ Based on a novel by Joe Dunthorne, a teenage boy’s coming of age is depicted amid family drama.
References
Beyer, R. (2013). Little Fish: A memoir from a different kind of year. San Francisco, CA: Zest.
Blind Faith. (1969). Blind Faith (sound recording CD). United Kingdom: Polydor.
Burke, M., Herbert, M., & Stebbing, A. (Producers); Ayoade, R. (Writer, Director). Submarine (videorecording DVD). Beverly Hill, CA: Anchor Bay.
Davis, M. (1958; 1987). Kind of blue (sound recording CD). New York, NY: Columbia.
Gwartney, D. (2009). Living through this: A mother’s memoir of runaway daughters and reclaimed love. Boston, MA: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt.
Kerouac, J. (1957; 2003); On the road. New York, NY: Penguin Books.
Lust, U.; Thompson, K. (Editor/Translator). (2013). Today is the last day of the rest of your life. Seattle, WA: Fantagraphics.
Maier, V. (2013). Eye to eye: Photographs by Vivian Maier. Chicago, IL: Cityfiles.
Nelson, B. (1994). Girl. New York, NY: Simon & Schuster.
Rosenberg, M. (2015). We can never go home. Vol. 1, What we do is secret. Los Angeles, CA: Black Mask.
Read the original comic. See the musical adaptation.
Marvel at the “repetition without replication” (Hutcheon, 2012, p. 7).
Alison Bechdel’s ‘tragicomic’ memoir, Fun Home (2006), is achingly moving as it propels readers through her childhood and young adulthood in a family which struggles yet copes, explodes yet has love and fun, and gets through painfully yet emphatically. Comics panels depict and convey Bechdel’s desire to connect with a demanding, enigmatic, secretive gay father, as well as her growing recognition and eventual celebration of her own lesbian identity. All the while, frank images, sumptuous captions, and plentiful samples of literary-text-as-illustration saturate the pages with poignancy, family history, and her father’s suicide. Bechdel’s yearnings, pluck, and compelling sequential art are so absorbing that readers will want to experience her memoir in a cover-to-cover sitting.
Adaptation of this comic into Fun Home, the musical, presents Bechdel’s memoir within the wonderful accouterments of live theater (as seen on May 18, 2016 at the Circle in the Square theatre on Broadway in New York City). Changes in presentation are distinct; stage replaces page, music voices characters’ views and readers’ reactions, a succinct and passionate script supplants eloquent text, and audience members are in a social group setting for the story rather than experiencing a comic solo.
Despite changes from the comic, the audience is propelled through the musical as well. The basics of Bechdel’s memoir are present in the musical’s characters, scenes, and events. (A similar idea , i.e., “enough familiar pieces,” is presented by Andrew Sparling in his blog.) The underlying visual guidance of a comics author/artist, however, is replaced with the ingenious incorporation of an adult ‘Alison’ [Bechdel] who roams the stage throughout the ‘years,’ providing intermittent narration and a number of descriptive or explanatory ‘verbal captions.’ Instead of comics panels which connect via layout, perspective and view, there is constant connection of moments and scenes on stage — in full view with no curtains, actors move, scenery changes, lighting transforms, a conductor directs, and musicians play. Instead of gutters of space on comics pages, there are gutters of expectant silence in the theatre. Instead of a cover-to-cover read, audiences are swept along a start-to-finish production with no intermission.
Lisa Kron, creator of the “book & lyrics” for Fun Home, the musical, notes the “deep river of yearning that flows through [Bechdel’s comic]” (Ross, May 2016, p. 21). As explained above, a number of features in the musical create that “deep river of yearning” on stage as well.
References
Bechdel, A. (2006). Fun home: A family tragicomic. Boston, MA: Houghton Mifflin.
Hutcheon, L. (2012). A theory of adaptation, 2nd edition. London, UK: Routledge.
Ross, B. (Ed.). (May 2016). Playbill: Circle in the Square. New York, NY: Playbill.
Pages 442-443:
There are five panels on the left (“Panels 1-5”) and two panels on the right (“Panels 6-7”) on pages 442-443 of Craig Thompson’s Blankets (2003). This page-spread depicts a moment in time when Raina’s father discovers her embraced in sleep with her young love, Craig. Subtle aspect-to-aspect closure is facilitated by increasingly revealing views. Panel 1 encapsulates many details within the love story – the walls are filled with images in angular mini-panels; Raina’s father is just inside the doorway. Panel 6 moves in for a medium-distance bird’s eye view of Craig and Raina, with blanket piecework and an exquisite pillow coming into focus. The sequence of Panels 1 to 6 to 7 includes images (of the embrace) that unwind counter-clockwise, ending with a close-up bird’s eye view highlighting peace and light in Raina’s profile and hair.
Beneath Panel 1, the gutter leads to a tier of small panels showing the father’s juxtaposed set of facial expressions in Panels 2-5. His face is simple and cartoonish, and communicates his overall reaction in slow motion, almost directly to the reader. There are stereotypical depictions of surprise and concern, a quick look away (to gather his thoughts?), and a tentative mouth poised to speak. In Panel 5, the shaft of his speech balloon leads to a suggestion of thought (. . .). The shaft reappears in Panel 6, effectively connecting with Panel 5 over the central gutter, then wends and propels the balloon – which never reaches the couple. The suggestion of thought lands in Panel 7 and fades within the profile of Craig’s face. The balloon is gone and the reader must narrate retrospectively. Whatever the father had thought is unvoiced, secondary to the bond between the lovers and silenced by his daughter’s happiness. Raina’s profile is in the center of a white background, dominating the page-spread and vaguely over-layered by Craig’s coexisting silhouette. Raina’s grace and beauty, with hair and light radiating, are reminiscent of other angelic, transcendent pages/panels and one of the comic’s irrepressible themes: tender hope.
Black and white art allows the reader to react without the influence of color. Shadows appear around the young lovers (in blanket folds, behind Raina’s father, and emanating from the father’s feet), but their relationship is set apart by faces and skin accentuated with light.
Thompson’s drawing style uses graceful lines when tranquility or loving connections exist, no matter what is pictured nearby. In Panel 6, the reader is drawn close to Craig and Raina, and they are enveloped in swirls, wavy lines, curls of hair, flowers, and the blanket’s curves. Such graceful depictions appear in other comics that include tender, loving moments (e.g., at times when a widow thinks of her lover in The Color of Earth (Kim, 2009), or when a man gazes at his wife in This One Summer (Tamaki, 2014, p. 97).
Several themes in Blankets are represented in this page-spread. Craig’s arm wraps warmly around Raina, but there is a trace of the unforgettable history of abuse in the right-angle of Craig’s arm; it resembles the monstrous jaw held open by Craig’s father when locking Craig’s brother in “the cubby hole” (p. 16). Raina’s wrist is angled, showing the couple’s connection. Rejection of certain tenets of faith is represented in the cut-off portrait of Christ on the wall. Trees appear in this comic in scenes of relief, retreat, hope, and peace; in this spread, Craig’s tree-painting on the wall leads the reader down to a tree-like arrangement of blanket folds on a calm bed. The “blankets” theme appears literally, enveloping and protecting Craig and Raina. Just their upper torsos, arms and heads show, presenting their relationship as greatly cerebral.
As a reader, my reaction to this spread acknowledges angularity but is touched by desire, embrace, and serenity. (I’ve been there and I’ve cherished it.) For librarians, the spread is an example of the ability of comics to depict realities, yearnings, sweetness, hope, and respite. For analysis, the spread is compelling because it is infused with the universality of young love amid struggle, such as found in Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. From the beginning of Blankets, the depictions of life experiences swathed my thoughts and settled into a deep spot in my spirit.
References
Kim, D. H. (2009). The color of Earth. New York, NY: First Second.
Tamaki, M. (2014). This one summer. New York, NY: First Second.
Thompson, C. (2003). Blankets: A graphic novel. Marietta, GA: Top Shelf.
“I value literature because in it men look at life with all the vulnerability, honesty, and penetration they can command . . . and dramatize their insights by means of a unique relationship with language and form.” (Hoggart, as found in Chambers, 1973, p. 132.)
The comics excellence of Art Spiegelman’s two-volume Maus (1986, 1991) certainly exemplifies Richard Hoggart’s comments (above) about valuable literary qualities. Even so, I was afraid to read a comic about the Jewish Holocaust. The enormity of that history weighs on me like a mountain, and the prospect of reading the comic sickened me. I have already sobbed, had nightmares, and trembled over The Diary of a Young Girl (Frank [English translation], 1952), Sophie’s Choice (Pakula, 1999), and Schindler’s List (Keneally, 1982). My psyche buckles and weeps when my friend, Stan, talks about being a young Polish Jew at the time, witnessing atrocities, and surviving hidden in a pantry.
The importance of Maus, however, is compelling. Noted as a comics paradigm (Martin, 2011, p. 172), it is recommended as significant to readers and celebrated by a Pulitzer Prize. And so, I decided to ‘meet’ the titular ‘mouse,’ Vladek Spiegelman, a human Holocaust survivor whose story is told by his son, Art.
Maus includes the experiences of Vladek and his wife, both Polish Jews who survived a Holocaust ghetto, concentration camps, and life-threatening times after World War II. Concurrently, Vladek’s relationship with Art and other family happenings are disclosed. Now having read it, I believe humankind must know the history and the account. Librarians need to know more than is conveyed by the summaries and subject headings.
Art Spiegelman mixes a mammoth story with ‘undersized’ comics features, making Maus readable and engaging. At just 23-24 centimeters with fewer than 300 black-and-white pages in all, the physical books are easy to handle. Small panels laid out neatly allow accessible bits of story to form impressive sequential art. The text font is small and does not overwhelm. Human characters have familiar animal heads (Jews are mice, Polish folk are pigs, Nazis are cats, and more). This anthropomorphism becomes understated as it continues but demands constant visual interpretation. As a result, various players and their plights become familiar.
What happened to me as I read Maus was unexpected. My fears did not keep me from reading on, and horror and grief did not make me cower, buckle, or weep. This comic provided a reading experience diminutive enough to be safe, yet it was potent and gripping. Vladek’s feisty survival, albeit imperfect and painful, serves as a powerful example of response to unbelievable brutality. Art’s candor is refreshing. At the end, I was somber but revitalized.
References
Chambers, A. (1973). Introducing books to children. London, UK: Heinemann.
Frank, A.; Mooyaart-Doubleday, B. M. (Translator). (1952). The diary of a young girl. New York, NY: Doubleday.
Keneally, T. (1982). Schindler’s list. New York, NY: Simon and Schuster.
Martin, E. (2011). Graphic novels or novel graphics? Comparatist, 35, 170-181.
Pakula, A. J. (Screenplay and Director); Pakula, A. J., & Barish (Producers). (1999). Sophie’s choice [DVD]. Santa Monica, CA: ITC Films.
Spiegelman, A. (1986). Maus I: A survivor’s tale: My father bleeds history. New York, NY: Pantheon.
Spiegelman, A. (1991). Maus II: A survivor’s tale: And here my troubles began. New York, NY: Pantheon.
As a student of comics (i.e., sequential art), my thoughts often turn to the effects of panels and gutters as literary components. Panel delineation draws the reader to consider pieces of story, and gutters are intentional spaces which assign control to the reader (McCloud, as found in Chute, 2014, p. 25) – thereby allowing the reader’s cognition, context, curiosity, and imagination to mingle. Story and ‘visual silence’ combine in sequential art; it is a unique form of literature that draws readers forward while allowing for pauses.
On March 23, I experienced the effects of panel-like components and gutter-like spaces in works of art in the Paul W. Zuccaire Gallery at Stony Brook University. The gallery currently showcases works by Logan Marks, Myda El-Maghrabi, Ye-seul Choi, Heather M. Cruce, and Victoria Febrer in “SUM: MFA 2016 Thesis Exhibition.”
Within the remarkable art in the exhibition, there are squares and rectangles delineating and forming fields of color, pattern, shape, and images. There are also ‘silent spots’ that allow for pauses and reflections. Just as in comics-reading, such features enhanced my visual experiences, enriched my interpretations, and increased my appreciation for the works.
Although the sequential nature of the art in comics and graphic novels is not necessarily characteristic of the art I viewed, it was interesting to experiment with both sequential and non-sequential visual navigation within the works. Also, incorporating assemblage tasks which occur during navigation through a comics page (Cohn, 2013, pp. 95-100; Eisner, 2008, p. 41), and then altering the visual process was an intense but rewarding way to enjoy the art from different perspectives.
Some tangential notes (and food for thought) for librarians and literacy specialists:
Each of the approaches above formed a distinct experience, and this brings to mind many possibilities in the experiences of readers of comics and graphic novels when they explore images, text, and layout. This also brings to mind the benefits of multidisciplinary approaches for literacy support in general, which Vukelich, Christie, and Enz point out in their discussions about literacy development (2008); they note that creating art is important (pp. 97-98). Inspired by my visit to the Paul W. Zuccaire Gallery, I will add that readers benefit when art for viewing is included in library offerings – in the form of trips to galleries and museums, or in a multi-media community gallery housed in the library.
To conclude, I recommend a visit to “SUM: MFA 2016 Thesis Exhibition.” In particular, readers of comics and graphic novels will be intrigued by the ‘panels’ and ‘gutters’ waiting to be discovered there. The exhibition runs through April 9.
The following works in the exhibition inspired this commentary:
Logan Marks: Static, Remote Control & the Leftover TV Dinners, 2016
Myda El-Maghrabi: Each body is a strange beach, 2016
Ye-seul Choi: An Aerial Scene, 2016
Heather M. Cruce: See Canyon Veil, 2016
Victoria Febrer: Moving Mountains #2, 2016 (Untitled Marine Vistas #173, 174, 175, 176, 177)
References
Chute, H. L. (2014). Outside the box: Interviews with contemporary cartoonists. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago.
Cohn, N. (2013). The visual language of comics: Introduction to the structure and cognition of sequential images. London, UK: Bloomsbury.
Eisner, W. (2008). Comics and sequential art: Principles and practices from the legendary cartoonist (Rev. ed.). New York, NY: W. W. Norton.
Moon, F., & Bá, G. (2011). Daytripper. New York , NY: DC Comics.
Vukelich, C., Christie, J., & Enz, B. (2008). Helping young children learn language and literacy: Birth through kindergarten (2nd ed.). Boston, MA: Pearson Education.
M. C. Escher. (1948). Fish / Duck / Lizard Image (No. 69): Ink, watercolor. Retrieved from the website of the M.C. Escher Foundation and the M.C. Escher Company, B.V. at http://mcescher.com/gallery/back-in-holland/no-69-fishducklizard/
Many public libraries are laying out the welcome mat for comics readers and sequential art (i.e., ‘graphic novels’ and ‘comics’). Firm footing for connecting readers with titles is supported by effective cataloging, careful placement in library collections, and ongoing study.
This exploration highlights two related sources, and this blogger’s recommendations are listed.
Karen Green (November 9, 2010) speaks to a number of challenges in the academic library. Although the Library of Congress (LoC) Classification Outline can be used to collocate graphic novels or comics by branch of learning (e.g., Theatre) [para. 2-3], this may not always place related items where one might expect to find them (para. 4-8). For example, some items from one learning area may be on the ‘Literature’ shelves and others from the same area may be on the ‘Fine Arts/Drawing’ shelves. Some items may not be categorized as ‘graphic novels’ because they were added to the collection before this LoC format heading existed. Green notes that comics creators may not adhere to conventions that facilitate collecting or cataloging, such as applying for ISBNs and seeking nationally recognized cataloging copy (para. 14). Given these considerations, Green has a personal record that tracks collections in order to help patrons who might not find what they want in the library catalog (para. 15).
Lessons in library science and public-library practicalities can be gleaned from Green’s comments. These include the work that must be done to meet challenges in acquiring graphic novels and establishing them as searchable in both the catalog and on the shelf. At this time, collecting graphic novels in the public library might only be acquired from certain vendors, and collection development might require scholarly review. As a result, public librarians may not have access to materials in the comic market that are ‘underground’ or self-published. Public librarians can consider the following ideas.
Quinn Recommendations
Laurel Tarulli (2010) speaks to challenges with the Dewey Decimal Classification (DDC) system, technical services operations, and changing library practices. The article includes an intense medley of earnest efforts to serve patrons, maintain cataloging excellence, and ensure high quality collection development.
Because graphic novels and comics might be processed in a technical services department before they reach a reference librarian, they might be catalogued according to “traditional . . . models” or catalogued without information such as illustrator names (Tarulli, 2010, p. 213). In addition, current and recent cataloging may have placed graphic fiction and comics within the 741.5s and graphic non-fiction within a myriad of non-fiction collections. Further, patrons may be interested in browsing comics by publisher or being presented with a variety of items collocated by character [not by format] (Tarulli, 2010, p. 219; What is, 2016, para. 2).
Tarulli also points to the importance of a “long-term view” that accommodates readers’ needs concerning series on shelves and in the catalog (p. 216), and processes such as applying “graphic novel sticker[s]” to identify new items before they hit the shelves. The discussion goes on to include practices that may inadvertently censor materials, networking that can support the excellence of the library services, and possibilities such as opportunities to browse by catalog images instead of items in hand (pp. 218-220).
This blogger’s recommendations that follow are focused on public libraries. They aim to consider Tarulli’s observations, to acknowledge that “pop culture moves quickly” (Lyga & Lyga, 2004, p. 13), to allow for prompt but careful change, to uphold a “long-term view” for assessing library practices, and to incorporate patrons’ needs.
Quinn Recommendations
References
About good comics for kids. (2016). Retrieved from the Good Comics for Kids blog of School Library Journal at http://blogs.slj.com/goodcomicsforkids/
Green, K. (November 9, 2010). ‘Whaddaya got?’: Finding graphic novels in an academic library. Retrieved from the website of Publishers Weekly at http://www.publishersweekly.com/pw/by-topic/industry-news/comics/article/45109-whaddaya-got-finding-graphic-novels-in-an-academic-library.html
Jacobson, A. (2010). Party on! at your book discussions: Shouldn’t a book club be for the fun of sharing? American Libraries, 41(8). Retrieved from http://go.galegroup.com.queens.ezproxy.cuny.edu:2048/ps/i.do?ty=as&v=2.1&u=cuny_queens&it=search&s=RELEVANCE&p=PPMI&qt=TI~%22Party%20on!%20At%20your%22~~SP~28~~IU~8~~SN~0002-9769~~VO~41&lm=DA~120100000&sw=w
Lyga, A. A. W., & Lyga, B. (2004). Graphic novels in your media center: A definitive guide. Westport, CT: Libraries Unlimited.
Nyberg, A. K. (2010). How librarians learned to love the graphic novel. In Weinger, R. (Ed.). Graphic novels and comics in libraries and archives: Essays on readers, research, history and cataloging. Jefferson, NC: McFarland.
Tarulli, Laurel. (2010). Cataloging and problems with Dewey: Creativity, collaboration and compromise. In Weiner, R. G. (Ed.). Graphic novels and comics in libraries and archives: Essays on readers, research, history and cataloging. Jefferson, NC: McFarland.
What is appeal?/Some examples/Character. (2016). Retrieved from the website of Novelist at https://www.ebscohost.com/novelist/our-products/novelist-appeals
Free Google Advanced image – Dale Chihuly – glass in boat – morning – Palm House
I had a profound sense of my topic’s timelessness while presenting this seminar. Given that fairy-tale adaptations in the form of comics are part of a folklore process that has churned and persisted for thousands of years, I was excited to share my interest and findings with my classmates. I felt humbled and honored to be part of a larger process.
It was a pleasure to receive positive feedback about ‘setting the mood’ for the seminar with a photo of a Dale Chihuly glass creation. Libraries serve and operate within multi-faceted communities, and works of art speak well to the importance of including multidisciplinary components in our services. For a comprehensive source about Dale Chihuly and his work, visit http://www.chihuly.com – the Timeline (http://www.chihuly.com/learn#timeline), in particular, is mesmerizing!
Presenting my seminar within a class on superhero comics was serendipitous in a way, as it made me think about Ranganathan’s library-science laws, especially the third law (“Every book its reader”) and the fifth law (“The library is a growing organism”) [Rubin, 2010, pp. 407-410]. Since there are many comics styles with which both fairy tales and superhero stories can be told, adding such comics to our library collections can add a wealth of literature choices for our patrons.
Not presented in the seminar, and possibly a topic to include in a seminar on censorship, is an idea that I came across in Linda Hutcheon’s theory of adaptation (2013). Hutcheon comments that “Adults . . . ‘censor’ adaptations, deciding that some are appropriate for children and others are not” (p. 118). Our responsibilities as librarians behoove us to consider and to discuss this. Views and information on child development, morals, and ethics should be part of such a discussion.
An aspect of my presentation that didn’t fit was my plan to share resources with my classmates via the PowerPoint slides. I had thought that this would be efficient (I am an avid note-taker), but realize that a different format may better serve my classmates. My recommendations are, therefore, listed here:
VISUAL LITERACY
The Visual Literacy Toolbox: Learning to Read Images http://www.humanities.umd.edu/vislit
ALMOST EVERYTHING FAIRY TALES
SurLaLune Fairy Tales http://www.surlalunefairytales.com
HISTORY OF FAIRY TALES
Once Upon a Time: A Short History of Fairy Tales (Marina Warner, Oxford University Press, 2014)
LITERARY FAIRY TALES
Folklore and Mythology Electronic Texts http://www.pitt.edu/~dash/folktexts.html
A GRAPHIC CANON
The Graphic Canon of Children’s Literature (Russ Kick [Ed.], Seven Stories Press, 2014)
AUTHORS/SCHOLARS TO READ
Linda Hutcheon, Bill Willingham, Jane Yolen, Jack Zipes
EXAMPLE OF A FAIRY TALES COMICS SERIES FOR ADULTS
Willingham, B. (2012). Fables: Volume 1, Legends in exile. New York (NY): DC Comics.
EXAMPLE OF A FAIRY TALES COMICS COLLECTION FOR CHILDREN
Duffy, C. (Ed.). (2013). Fairy tale comics: Classic tales told by extraordinary cartoonists. New York (NY): First Second.
References
Hutcheon, L. (2012). A theory of adaptation (2nd ed.). London, UK: Routledge.
Rubin, R. E. (Ed.). (2010). Foundations of library and information science, 3rd ed. New York, NY: Neal-Schuman.
Image retrieved from The Graphic Mac (Dempsy, 2008)
Notes to readers:
1) A Contract With God, as discussed here, is one comic in a collection of Will Eisner’s works (2006); it is grouped therein under the same title with three other comics. This story quartet also has been published as a stand-alone: A Contract With God and Other Tenement Stories.
2) The length of this essay corresponds to the great number of features necessary for the study of four deeply meaningful comics. The result shows the cohesiveness of the comics, and the organization of this essay will help to locate features of interest.
— A. Quinn
Introduction
Four stories, originally published between 1978 and 1995, make up “Part I: A Contract With God” in Will Eisner’s comics trilogy published in 2006. In the information-packed Preface, Eisner explains that he was born and raised in New York City, and influenced by the graphic art of Otto Nückel, Franz Masareel, and Lynd Ward (pp. xiii-xiv). Eisner’s career was devoted to “combining and refining words and pictures” (p. xix).
In the stories, Eisner’s fictional tenement neighborhood is home to characters which are, at times, visually stereotypical. They include slouched elderly rabbis, a dolled-up young girlfriend, a busty musical diva, a drunken failure of a man, a lonely building ‘super,’ a sweet looking but evil young temptress, a gold-digging chick, and a frumpy intellectual. Nonetheless, the characters experience and propel them up and down in life, and Eisner’s storytelling is compelling for new comics readers as well as established fans.
This reading response focuses on what Eisner offers his readers as he asks them to relish his ‘slice of life’ stories.
“A Contract With God”
Frimme Hersh is an orphan in late-nineteenth century Russia. As a boy, he is rescued from ferocious anti-Semitic persecution and he dutifully creates a contract with the Divine. Later, in his permanent home in New York City, he lives his adult life as a devout Jew. The death of Frimme’s adopted daughter, however, devastates his faith and leads to a furious end to his commitment to God. Frimme becomes a greedy and unhappy businessman. His perceptive girlfriend offers to convert to Judaism, and Frimme is moved. He demands a new contract with God from synagogue elders. The results, however, are literally short-lived. The reader is left to ponder some basics in the human condition: spirituality, organized religion, ethics, economic class, grief, disillusionment, and emotional emptiness. In the “Epilogue,” heroic young Shloime Khreks finds Frimme’s original contract, and possibilities are left to the reader.
“The Street Singer”
The main character in this story is a poor husband whose melodic voice echoes in tenement alleys, earning him tossed coins and a promise of fame from a bygone operatic diva. She will make him a star! After returning to the reality of home with a badgering wife and baby on the way, he convinces his bartender and himself that stellar days are ahead. The problem is that he absolutely cannot remember where the diva lives and he only knows her stage name. It’s back to drudgery and unfulfilled potential. The hopes in the story line are punctured by the realities of poverty, hunger, sex for favors, domestic violence, and giddy promises of success and fame.
“The Super”
Unlikable Mr. Scuggs is a cranky, scary looking tenement super. He is fed up with his tenants, and finds relief in alcohol and the pin-up girls on the walls of his basement apartment. When Mrs. Farfell fetches him to fix the hot water, her young niece catches his eye and later arrives at the door of his apartment. The combination of his inebriation and her startling behavior leads to the provocation of violence and a suicidal ending. These events are not unheard of in cruel domains where alcohol use leads to raw emotions and where evil causes tragedy despite the appearance of innocence.
“Cookalein”
Tenement dwellers escape to the country during the summer, and ‘cookaleins’ are inexpensive hotels where moms-in-charge cook for their vacationing families. Other hotel-bound vacationers in Eisner’s story include a secretary looking for a rich husband, a conceited young man masquerading as a well-to-do, a medical student who plays sax in a hotel band, lonely Mrs. Minks, and fifteen-year-old Willie – who is strapping and naive. None of the characters dominate this rollicking story, and neither do their summer experiences. Plausibility and probability (terms from animation discussions in Disney’s Fantasia [2000; originally 1940]) fill this visual narrative with commonly known happenings: flirting, travel preparations, snobbery, chauvinism, unhappiness, infidelity, seduction, rape, rescue, and loss of innocence.
Eisner’s sequential art and the evocation of reaction
Each of Eisner’s stories begins flatly with a full-page illustration that has no frame, no gutters, and no text save for a simple number indicating the order of the stories. These pages provide scenery, but no emotion. It is within each comic that the art conveys depth of meaning. In “A Contract with God,” there is text-as-image, (such as Hebrew letters and punctuation which convey Judaic themes), predominance of full pages with no frames (surrounded by white spaces which serve as large gutters that emphasize the importance of the panels’ contents), and overflowing water and pelting rain that submerge Frimme Hersh in overwhelming grief. Most pages are saturated with plentiful ink striations – angled to lead the reader through a driving story, or horizontal/vertical to halt the reader for moments of thought. From childhood through Frimme’s self-determined amoral metamorphosis, the panels go from small and detailed to large and blackened, communicating progression from the past into stark reality. The catalyst for Frimme’s return to religion is his girlfriend, pictured close up with simple, appealing features. The art quickly returns to striation with movement that culminates in a swirling yet rainless storm of death. The backgrounds in the final two pages of the “Epilogue” are black and strong, forcing the reader to be somber. Striated rays of lamplight and a glare of light on Sliome Khreks ask for closure: What is in that aged contract, and what will come of those who enter into its terms?
At the beginning of “The Street Singer,” vertical striation surrounds text in the atmosphere of an alley; this feature stops the reader and starts a new story. Most of the subsequent pages contain three to five panels, with medium/neutral views and black or white backgrounds that allow for the exploration of numerous characters and components of the tale, and a variety of emotions. High views and bird’s eye perspectives accentuate moments wherein the reader may ponder realities such as urban confinement, looming pressure, post-coital return to routine, and various bits of litter in the life of the everyman.
Close-ups, cluttered panels, and moment-to-moment transitions give the reader plenty of tools for closure (McCloud, 1994, p. 70) in “The Super.” The reader gets to know Mr. Scuggs as a larger than life character on single-panel pages. On pages where he is small among the details, however, circumstances are seen to whittle him down under the pressures of his job. Swirling images ‘describe’ his sad escapes into alcohol-induced fantasy. Dark surroundings on pages 116 and 117 give way to glaring, bright backgrounds that clearly show the rapid pace of Mr. Scuggs’s growing despair, and a billowy text balloon with creepy musical notes draws the reader’s eye to evidence of a twisted victory near the story’s end.
With a large variety of characters and events, the art in “Cookalein” is busy with details and a great number of text balloons. In this final story of Part I in Eisner’s trilogy, vertical striations slowly return and increase, leading the reader to gaze down into pools of thought as “A Contract With God” nears its end. The backgrounds get busy, and depictions of young Willie become more prominent. By the final pages, Willie is large, deep and dark in thought, and surrounded by a sky filled with lines of background. There is hardly a gutter in which the reader might look away. The reader’s perspective is from behind Willie, and together they can look down on a city of many stories.
Other features of this comics quartet
The lack of color (i.e., the use of black and white only) in these comics suggests the years when color images/photographs might not have been commonplace. For example, “A Contract With God” takes place toward the beginning of the twentieth century, and “The Street Singer” takes place “during the early 1930s” (p. 65). Based on personal observations, the world of “The Super” includes a child in dress from the early to mid-twentieth century, and the vehicles depicted in “Cookalein” are from that era as well.
Audience and collection development
Six libraries in the Suffolk Cooperative Library System own this trilogy title. Three place it with adult graphic novels, and two place it with graphic novels for young adults. One library places it on the 741.5 shelves.
The content of the stories are appropriate for young adults and adults, but this title will probably circulate more in an adult collection serving readers who have observed or experienced some of the events. Also, interest in middle-aged characters may be found more among adults. Minor depictions of nudity and sexual activities are further considerations. Regardless, young adults interested in comics in the library may know of Will Eisner, making it easy to search for his work by author regardless of collection. Cataloging this work as a 741.5, however, may ‘maroon’ it; this consideration echoes Kat Kan’s ideas in “Cataloging Graphic Novels” (2016).
Final thoughts
A Contract With God was chosen for review here because at first skim among four choices, it appeared to be the least appealing. A potentially negative review was in the works. After reading only a few pages, there was an about-face in direction! One can really sink their literary teeth into Eisner’s offerings.
If there is any doubt that comics can address everyday moments and the human condition with meaningful art, the stories explored here are evidence that comics can do just that. Also, Eisner’s masterful comics make it easy to forget about format and think about content that is from the real world.
References
Dempsy, J. (2008). Create a hand-held fan from your favorite image [sample of a product created with a Photoshop action: Panos FX Fan]. Retrieved on February 22, 2016 from the website of The Graphic Mac at http://www.thegraphicmac.com/create-hand-held-fan-effect-your-favorite-image
Eisner, W. (2006). The Contract With God trilogy. New York, NY: W. W. Norton.
Fantasia [60th anniversary DVD edition of a motion picture originally released in 1940]. (2000). Burbank, CA: Walt Disney Enterprises.
Kan, K. (2016). Cataloging graphic novels. Retrieved from Diamond Bookshelf at http://www.diamondbookshelf.com/Home/1/1/20/181?articleID=37812
McCloud, S. (1994). Understanding comics: The invisible art. New York, NY: HarperPerennial.
A first step in studying comics literature is to learn about arranging visual language and written language to tell stories (Cohn, 2013, pp. 2, 13; Eisner, 2005, p. 7; Eisner, 2008, p. 7; McCloud, 1994, pp. vii; Wolf, n.d., as found in Eisner, 2005, pp. 1, 8).
Will Eisner explains in Comics and Sequential Art that depictions and words together in sequence can produce both meaning and aesthetic impact (2005, p. 8). Eisner’s remarks and comics examples (from his mid-twentieth century work) are highly detailed and mesmerizing. The presentations are academically complex, and visually powerful due to illustrative intricacy and copious tone gradients of black and white. As such, Eisner can – to the point of ‘brain-strain’ – sate a student’s wish to understand mechanisms that function within comics. (Pushing through any intellectual fatigue, however, is worth it because the result is utter fascination.)
Neil Cohn’s introduction to visual language in comics (2013) leads the reader down sophisticated linguistic lanes, winding through the use of tools such as modality [e.g., visual markings], meaning [e.g., abstract or practical suggestions], grammar [e.g., a system of rules for visible presentations], and sequential units [e.g., frames and placement] (pp. 4-8).
Moving forward in Eisner’s Comics and Sequential Art to a chapter on “The Frame,” there are presentations more accessible to a comics-neophyte, including encapsulation of events and flow of the narrative (p. 39). There is more text than illustration in these lessons, with step-by-step commentary about the creation of panels (pp. 42-44, 64-89), borders (p. 44), outlines (pp. 53-60), dimension (pp. 50-52, 54, 59), illustration as narration (pp. 45-50), and perspective (pp. 92-101). These presentations elicit feelings of curiosity and awe concerning the mastery needed in order to create comics that speak to readers.
(Please note: Eisner presents R. Crumb’s “A Short History of America” [which depicts a geographical location over time] (2005, pp. 46-47], a grand example of subtle content and panel sequencing which make it almost effortless to read the images. Crumb’s panels bring to mind the visual impact of Virginia Lee Burton’s splendid Caldecott-winning picture book, The Little House (1942), which tells the poignant story of the House’s evolution from rural-to-urban-to-rural.)
Scott McCloud’s ‘gift’ to comics newbies, Understanding Comics: The Invisible Art (1994), encompasses the concepts above and shapes them firmly into an effective foundation for the study of comics. This is the text that brings together Cohn’s and Eisner’s lessons (and surely others) for the neophyte! McCloud’s presentations are bold and contain a wide variety of pedagogic examples; there is a targeted “Introduction” on page viii and a logical, enthusiastic development of comics-creation processes on pages 2-23. After studying Chapter 1: “Setting the Record Straight,” the reader will shout a literary “Hallelujah!” because they will understand that comics are “juxtaposed pictorial and other images in deliberate sequence, intended to convey information and/or to produce an aesthetic response in the viewer” (p. 9).
McCloud also enlightens with a helpful lesson in similarities and differences between film and comics: Visual animation contains a procession of filmed images on one screen in prearranged time, and comics contain a procession of images in spaces, which readers explore in their own time (1994, pp. 7-8).
References
Burton, V. L. (1942). The little house. Boston, MA: Houghton Mifflin.
Cohn, N. (2013). The visual language of comics: Introduction to the structure and cognition of sequential images. New York, NY: Bloomsbury Academic.
Eisner, W. (2005). Comics and sequential art. Tamarac, FL: Poorhouse.
Eisner, W. (2008). Graphic storytelling and visual narrative: Principles and practices from the legendary cartoonist. New York, NY: W. W. Norton.
McCloud, S. (1994). Understanding comics: The invisible art. New York, NY: HarperCollins.
“a picture exhibited a part at a time by being unrolled before the spectator” (Full definition, n.d.)
QUINNLOOK is back!
Previous explorations in this blog looked at young adult literature. Now let’s peer into the world of COMICS AND GRAPHIC NOVELS IN THE LIBRARY!
But why start this post with a definition of cyclorama? My current limited experience with comics and graphic novels has a ‘panoramic’ feel, e.g., the way the panels can sequence from side-to-side, the way that one visual leads so strongly into the next, the way that my thoughts expand so effortlessly when I read them.
When I searched for panorama in the dictionary, cyclorama was in the list of definitions. This reminded me how comics and graphic novels ‘unroll’ over pages. I’m curious about how the frames/texts/perspectives come together to tell stories.
During the three-and-a-half years I’ve worked in a Children’s and Teen Services public library department, I’ve seen graphic novels take their place on the shelves as defined collections. I have a beginner’s understanding about this form of literature, and I need to appreciate it further. I am quite intrigued about what comics and graphic novels offer to readers and to the library community.
It’s exciting to have the opportunity to study in a graduate seminar, where I expect lively discussions and lots of discovery concerning literature that can bring about both enthusiasm and hesitance among library users (and staff!).
My thoughts, wonder, and learning will ‘unroll’ via QUINNLOOK as my literary panoramas expand!
Reference
Full definition of PANORAMA. (n.d.) Retrieved on January 29, 2016 from http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/panorama
Image of Lynd Ward’s book collection retrieved from Amazon.com at http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/1598530828/braipick-20
Free Google Advanced Image
Book cover image for Eric Drooker’s Blood Song retrieved from the online catalog of the Suffolk Cooperative Library System at http://contentcafe2.btol.com/ContentCafeClient/CoverImage.aspx
Many young adults who visit the reference desk are hooked on history. To connect with that interest, it’s helpful to gather information about the history of the graphic novel format.
Lanier (2007) explains that in the early twentieth century, a number of artists throughout the world created wordless “woodcut novels” which were aimed at making political statements via “visual rhetoric” (para. 5). As a result, there were no geographical boundaries for their stories and messages, and also no need to be literate in order to ‘read’ them (para. 3). Two of these artists were Belgian Frans Masereel and American Lynd Ward.
Popova (2011) refers to Ward as the “Father of the Graphic Novel,” although this may be an Americanized view. Regardless, it’s exciting to find information that spans not only decades, but centuries, in discussions of the format.
Several of Ward’s woodcut novels are held in collections within the Suffolk Cooperative Library System (SCLS) via the catalog at Live-brary.com. A collection of six woodcut novels by Ward is available via Amazon.com (image above).
Lanier points to contemporary work by graphic novelists Peter Kuper and Eric Drooker. Drooker’s graphic novel Blood Song (image above) is held in YA collections in two SCLS libraries.
References
Lanier, C. (2007). The “woodcut novel”: a forerunner to the graphic novel. World literature today, 81(2), 15. Retrieved from http://go.galegroup.com/ps/i.do?id=GALE%7CA160279681&v=2.1&u=scls_main&it=r&p=LitRC&sw=w&asid=741e9bca11c75e81cdeb2590d6b13ddf
Popova, M. (2011). Depression-era woodcuts by Lynd Ward, father of the graphic novel. Brainpickings. Retrieved from http://www.brainpickings.org/2011/10/19/lynd-ward-box-set/
REVIEW of Tamaki, Jillian, and Mariko Tamaki. This One Summer. First Second [Roaring Book Press], 2014. 319p. $17.99 Paperback. 978-1-59643-774-6.
[VOYA codes:] 3Q 4P [female readers] 3P [male readers] J S
Rose cannot remember a summer when she and her parents did not go to the cottage at Awago Beach. This year, Rose and her Awago-Beach friend, Windy, spend bright and familiar times at the beach and the cottages, at Brewster’s Store, and at the s’mores bonfire. They like swimming, scaring themselves with horror films, drinking virgin daiquiris with Windy’s Grandma, and frolicking in fun about their budding breasts.
A large, illustrated frame discloses that slightly younger Windy is still mostly focused on the cheery flashlight lens of childhood; Rose pensively looks out into the darkness that surrounds them in the night. The dark things that Rose faces this summer include her mother’s miscarriage and deep sadness, her parents’ painful arguments, her aching for a summer crush, and discoveries about the stark realities that can accompany backwoods boys, insensitive relatives, and teen pregnancy.
This frank and bittersweet graphic novel is filled with strong contrasts in light-filled and dark illustrations, and it carefully brings the story of Rose’s chiaroscuro summer alive with great success. Small type sizes draw in the reader to linger on the story’s profundities. Sparse text and conversation are engaging, and a variety of frame sizes supports constant interest in the story. Unless readers stop to explore the detailed illustrations, however, they might miss out on certain story features and character-driven descriptions. Despite this minor issue, This One Summer will speak to teens of various ages. It is highly recommended for those in grades 7 through 9, and older teens – especially female readers – will find themselves thinking about the story again and again. Some teens may want to read it twice in order to take a deeper look at experiences, emotions, thoughts, and all the possibilities that can be found in just one summer.
QUINNLOOK 