Tuesday, June 29, 2004

Graphic Novel Paints a Beautiful But Painful Picture

I’m expanding my literary horizons. Or so I’d like to think. The truth is, although I’ve always been a bookworm, I haven’t been much of a voracious reader lately, so when two of my friends suggested I read the book Blankets, which they and two other friends had already read in the space of three weeks courtesy of the library, I agreed less because it was a graphic novel than because it was something. Books fill the hallway, spilling off of the shelves that cover the walls, and it takes somebody else’s library book to get me to sit down and read…

Still, the fact that it was a graphic novel intrigued me. I’d first encountered the term when reading about Road to Perdition. When I saw the Tom Hanks film was based on a graphic novel, I figured that meant it included liberal doses of the sorts of scenes I generally try to avoid. As it turned out, that description would have been entirely applicable, but by proper definition a graphic novel is written in comic book format and driven as much by the pictures as the words. When I began working at Waldenbooks, I noticed teenagers gravitating toward a particular type of graphic novel: Manga. I recently confessed my lack of familiarity with Manga to a new co-worker who cited an appreciation for the books. I admitted the thought of reading a book from back to front rather intimidated me, and he suggested I begin with Tokyo Pop, which publishes Manga-style books that read from front to back. Just two days later my friends placed this book in my hands, and while it is not Manga, having read it may prove an effective intermediate step. Or perhaps not. But even if I never read another graphic novel, Blankets was well worth the time it took me to read it.

Author and artist Craig Thompson relates a deeply personal account of his youth, focusing largely on his relationships with two particular people. Much of the novel relays events occurring when the author was in third grade, and most of these scenes involve Craig’s little brother, Phil. The two bicker incessantly, and yet there is such closeness between them that the gift of separate bedrooms becomes more a burden than a blessing to them. They would rather wrestle over the blankets than lie alone in the dark.

The scenes taking place late in Craig’s high school career revolve around Raia, a lovely young woman he meets at Bible camp, corresponds with regularly, and visits for two weeks. During that time he gains valuable insights into his relationship with Phil by observing Raia’s interactions with Ben and Laura, her devoted developmentally disabled siblings, and grows simultaneously closer to and more distant from the girl he has come to love. Blankets tells that almost necessarily bittersweet tale of first love, running its course from exhilaration to obliteration. Perhaps most fundamentally, it is a novel – perhaps memoir is a more appropriate word – about change and the cruel domination of time, a book born of the same authorial anguish that drove the 21-year-old Paul Simon to pen the worrisome words of Leaves That Are Green. “Time hurries on, and the leaves that are green turn to brown.” All that is good must fade.

For Craig, and for most who must endure the trials of growing up, this means losses on many levels. A loss of innocence. A loss of brotherly comradeship. A loss of love. A loss of faith. Religion plays a major role in Blankets, as Craig grew up in a very religious home and spent most of his childhood surrounded by fundamentalist Christians. He feels a strong sense of spirituality, a powerful call to do God’s will, but the cruelty and hypocrisy he witnesses in his fellow Christians gradually gnaws away at him, leaving him with a profound emptiness.

As I read through Blankets, I was struck by Craig’s similarity to my youngest brother. Not only did I find them physically similar, particularly in the teenage scenes, but Craig’s personality and interests are very much in tune with my brother’s. As brooding artists who tend to prefer solitude and rather like being considered oddities, I think the two would get along very well. Craig’s artistry is impressive. I was disappointed at first to discover that the book was all in black and white, but he manages to be very expressive without a wide color palette. The prominence of snow in the book sets up an interesting contrast. Many of the scenes are physically white, but there is a psychological darkness to much of the book. Craig details very dark times, and in spite of the fact that his childhood was often traumatized, his toughest trials come when he reaches the threshold between childhood and adulthood and must cross it.

Before they handed the book off to me, my friends warned me that Blankets had a few scenes that could be considered objectionable. I assured them that my college English courses had desensitized me to literary occurrences I would have found shocking in high school. Blankets does have its share of R-rated moments, from occasional strong profanity to molestation by a babysitter, but nothing that prevented me from enjoying the book. Although much of the book features Craig as a young child, I think Blankets is best reserved for those old enough to identify with the teenage Craig as well. I must admit that I felt rather depressed after I finished reading it, but I admire the author’s integrity and courage to bare his soul so honestly. His struggles with growing up resonated with me, even though my childhood bears little resemblance to his. In bemoaning the ravages of time, he celebrates life and the sacredness of each moment, making Blankets a coming of age tale to treasure.

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