lately, I’ve been reading graphic novels. I was a closet comic book reader. I loved not just the art, because I can’t draw at all, but I loved what was immediate about it. The now. The POW! of a comic book. There are still comic books, but now graphic novels have entered the school library, the media centers, traditional publishing. There are respectable. LOL, in the same way science fiction and fantasy are respectable. Almost.
I admit. Some of them I just don’t get. They seem dark, jerky. There must be something in the art I’m missing. ‘Cause I just don’t get it. But, recently I’ve read two that decidedly intrigue me. One is Robot Dreams. A wordless graphic novel. Could have been a wordless picture book, but as a graphic novel it has the time and space to expand the story. Some have said it’s a sad story. Some have been irritated about how callous the main character seemed. Not me. I saw it as hopeful. Everyone can find their own place, sometimes that place is not where you think it should be.
The second is The Professor’s Daughter has so many levels and twists and turns. The mere fact that a mummy, thirty centuries old, could be re-animated. Not only that. Have a father? And children? And when he takes off his bandages he looks normal. A person. Certainly not in the vein of past mummy movies. Not your rampaging, brown and dirty ragged preserved specimen who has just escaped or been exhumed from a grave. No. No. This mummy is suave, a bon vivant, a sophisticate. Top Hat. A stylishly cut suit. Walks in the park, arm and arm with a woman he loves. Truly wonderful writing and art.
Onward! I have more to read.