Race to Incarcerate: A Graphic Retelling

In the fall I attended a weekend-long workshop in Philadelphia, and the Airbnb we used was across the street from the Eastern State Penitentiary, the first major prison in the United States. Thankfully my mom is a big ol' nerd like myself and was stoked to tour it. It was absolutely fascinating, and I picked up Race to Incarcerate: A Graphic Retelling by Sabrina Jones and Marc Mauer in the gift shop. I like supporting cultural institutions, and since I haven't yet read Mauer's original book, I thought this would be a good addition to my bookshelf.

I wasn’t aware that this was a graphic retelling of Marc Mauer’s Race to Incarcerate, which in full disclosure I haven’t read but need to purchase and dig into, so I was quite pleasantly surprised to find this was quite literally a retelling. From start to finish this retelling was clear, concise, and easy to read. I was able to follow the history from the dawn of prisons and the modern penitentiary to our current day obsession with incarceration. I am thankful that my mom was so interested in visiting Eastern State when we went, because I learned a great deal that, when combined with this retelling, opened my eyes to a new angle in understanding incarceration in the United States. 

What we know of present-day prisons began in earnest in the 1970’s. Our prison population as grown exponentially in the past four decades to the point where the population is equivaent to a small state. While this book doesn’t go into detail regarding financial statistics, this costs a great deal of money. If you have been paying any attention at all lately to the concerns regarding the privatization of prisons, you know that you have cause for concern. Prisons are big business, and we have our obsession with punishment to blame beginning with everyone’s favorite conservative icon, President Reagan. Not a single political leader in the upper echelon of our government has sought radical prison reform. 

One thing that I have been meditating on that came up in this book is the role of prisons. Obviously this book is connected with The New Jim Crow — Michelle Alexander even wrote the introduction — and so these thoughts are nothing new to me. However, I’ve come to a conclusion about prison. You have one of two beliefs about the role of imprisonment: you either believe that it serves to punish or that it serves to support penitence. You might be able to tell from this where I stand.

(Side note: I do believe that there will be incarcerated persons who will never be interested in repentance as it were. That is why things like life sentences exist for what are supposed to be the most egregious crimes. At that point, I do see that punishment becomes the only option. However, shouldn’t punishment be a consequence of a lack of repentance rather than never having the option to become a productive member of society?)

You can see what people believe in the ramifications of post-prison life, including the lack of standardized services helping newly released men and women get on their feet, the box that one must check stating they’ve been convicted of a felony, and disenfranchisement of formerly incarcerated persons, to name just a few. We get to make a decision as the generation in power regarding what we want to do with the humanity we’ve been given. There’s much more on this subject than this little blog post — seek it out, dive into it, and think about the information that may not match what you think you know and believe. 

Illegal: One Boy's Epic Journey of Hope and Survival

I absolutely had to pick up Eoin Colfer and Andrew Donkin's Illegal: One Boy's Epic Journey of Hope and Survival for our family bookshelf. 

When I first brought this home, my husband raised his eyebrows at the title. I explained to him that it was supposed to be provacative in its exploration of what it means to be “legal” or not. Colfer and Donkin have put together a powerful story of a boy, Ebo, the youngest in his family, who alights off to join his older brother as he leaves their home in Africa to seek out both their sister and a better life than they grew up with. Ebo and his brother find themselves at the mercy of their handlers, handing off every dime they gave in search of Italy, where they plan to end up. Things go off the rails when they have to hop on a dinghy as quickly as possible with a dozen other migrants. The vessel is only slated to hold 8, and the engine dies, leaving they boys and men stranded in the sea. They are not sure who, if anyone, will make it to those golden shores of hope. 

I’m still processing my emotions after finishing this graphic novel, as it was both stunning and devastating. I used to question the role of graphic novels since I love the written word so much, but as I’ve gotten deeper into them I have found that the pictorial representation along with carefully selected text can punch me in the gut harder than a longer passage of the most beautiful prose. This was the perfect medium for this story, and it had me sniffling in the living room while my son watched TV. Ebo’s story is one of a boy who is audacious in his hope and his belief that he is making the right decision for himself and his family. What’s heart-wrenching about it from the point of view of my safe and warm home in adulthood is that it is so split-second, so without thought that I wanted to reach into the book, grab that boy by the ear, and drag him back home. 

However, he is an impulsive young boy who made the decision he did, so we choose to continue following him along on his journey. I will leave the rest of the narrative here so that nothing will be spoiled when you pick up the book. The story itself is heart-wrenching, but I do think it’s an important one to read and to understand. This book has so many talking points with young people — why Ebo made the decision that he did, what the conditions of his life were that would lead to his leaving so suddenly, why going to Europe was such a dream for so many, what would happen when they got there, etc. A piece of me wants to shield my son from the kind of pain contained in this book, but that’s realistic and it takes away the possibility of hope. Ultimately, I feel that’s what the book left us with, even if it did break my heart. 

The Faithful Spy: Dietrich Bonhoeffer and the Plot to Kill Hitler

John Hendrix's The Faithful Spy: Dietrich Bonhoeffer and the Plot to Kill Hitler was a book that I picked up because it not only looked interesting, but it was also something that I know I will one day want my son to read.

This graphic depiction of a story I had never heard about before was just amazing. I was blown away by the representations of some difficult material, including Hitler and the underpinnings of the Holocaust. Hitler was portrayed as a wolf, so his actual human representation was only presented once. This is important, as any other consisted picture of him might have served to humanize him; rather, seeing him as a wolf in sheep's clothing created a metaphorical yet arresting picture of a man whose need for power destroyed millions of lives. I also found the explanation of the rise of the Nazi party to be incredibly well-done and very clear. It's hard for even those with high level reading skills to grasp onto all of the nuances and details of that point in history, and I felt that this book did a wonderful job making clear what happened along with the timeline. Hendrix put a small box on the corner of the page when he was discussing the military exercises that contained a map showing the areas that the Nazi's had already conquered and that which they were moving into. Not only was this a great story of standing up for your beliefs -- and we will get to that momentarily -- it was also a history book.

I was never aware of the story of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a man of God who believed it was his moral imperative to kill Hitler. Spending time in America and seeing legal racial discrimination, even among his fellow Christians, shapes who Bonhoeffer is and what his faith means. When he returns to his home country of Germany at the beginning of the era we know well from our history books, he wants to bring the active faith he discovered in America. As Germany begins to see its takeover by the Nazi party, he finds himself involved in anti-Nazi activism that puts him on the enemy list, and he briefly escapes to America before realizing that to truly live his faith, he must be in the middle of the storm. He returns to Germany and joins the resistance. He struggles with his belief in the Bible and what he knows needs to happen to save Germany -- and the world -- from a tyrant who was seeking to end the lives of millions of minorities. The question he faces -- is it justified to kill a person to save millions of others -- shapes his activism, and Bonhoeffer becomes central to the plot to kill Hitler.

This is an absolutely incredible story, and one that I want my son to read one day. I want him to know that people don't just oppose hate with their words, but also with their actions even if they seem extreme at the time. We can't prove what would have happened if Hitler had been stopped earlier; it could have been a Medusa situation, or it could have helped good people realize that they were turning into bad ones. Maybe those who sought power would have still pushed forward because this was the way they were taking it. Who knows? But we do know now who Dietrich Bonhoeffer was and why we should be grateful to him. My son will know, too. 

Hey Kiddo: How I Lost My Mother, Found My Father, and Dealt with Family Addiction

Jarrett J. Krosoczka's graphic novel Hey Kiddo: How I Lost My Mother, Found My Father, and Dealt with Family Addiction called out to me at Book Expo as a way to speak about these issues, particularly parental incarceration and addiction, with a younger audience who doesn't know that they are not alone. 

Jarrett grew up initially with his mother but when he was a toddler, his maternal grandparents took custody of him because they were concerned about the goings-on in his mother’s home. His mother would disappear for weeks or months at a time, sometimes sending Jarrett letters, but rarely visiting. As Jarrett grows older, his grandparents become more honest with him about the challenges with his mother — she is a heroin addict and has been in and out of prison his whole life. Jarrett, who spent years struggling with who he was and where he fit in, grew even more distant from his mother. Then, one day, his father sends him a letter. As Jarrett moves through adolescence, he must balance his own growing up, his mother’s struggle with addiction, and a new family he never knew he had. 

I was incredibly taken by this book — I read it the very day that I got a copy. It stayed at the top of my bag throughout the Expo and I found myself continually being happy to be standing in line so that I could get back to this book. It was an easy read in that it is aimed for the younger set, and Krosoczka's graphics are really great. It has a consistent color scheme, which I feel helps to set the story for the reader. In fact, as I was in line for another children’s book, I found myself extolling its virtues to a children’s librarian. Here’s the gist of what I told her. 

This book is vitally important for younger children. It’s a middle grade book, so sure, maybe its reading level isn’t quite elementary (although I would have read it as a fourth or fifth grader). But it should be on school library shelves. At one point in the book, Jarrett discovers that one of his classmates also has a mother who is an addict and he never knew. These kinds of secrets can tear children up, and with the amount of children in this country dealing with an addicted parent, it is so very important that these kids realize that they are not alone. One addicted person leaves at least a dozen affected people in his or her wake, and I am always amazed to find out how many of my friends either haven’t felt the sting of loving an addict or remain in denial about it. 

Krosoczka has published a deep, meaningful, and important work for young people that lets them know that they aren’t alone in dealing with hard stuff. The more we avoid talking about addiction, the more power we give the shame surrounding it. We cannot forget that those who love an addict are affected as well, and this includes even the smallest children. I originally picked up Hey, Kiddo for my son, because while he won’t be reading it for a while, I intend to be honest with him about our family’s struggles with addiction. We will not give power to the shame of an illness that affects so many, and I am thankful to Krosoczka for producing a beautiful, open-hearted piece of work for that purpose. 

What Does Consent Really Mean?

What Does Consent Really Mean? by Pete Wallis and Thalia Wallis, illustrated by Joseph Wilkins, came across my radar when I was looking for new books to read on my Kindle this fall. (With a small baby, Kindle is really the way to go for me right now.) Now that I am a mother, I am looking for ways to teach consent to my child at a young age, as it's incredibly important to me. Hence, why I picked up this graphic novel. 

What is consent? What does it mean exactly, and does it take away the fun of a sexual encounter? Do you have a right to consent in a relationship? These are the big questions explored in this short primer on what it means to give consent and why it's important. Several friends get together after school, and one brings up a rumor that the new girl was raped. This sparks a discussion about what it means to say "yes" and "no," and if that even matters. (Spoiler alert: it does.)

What I found the most fascinating about this book was the spot-on characterization of high schoolers. Now, it's been on the far side of two decades since I started high school, but looking back on what I knew then, I saw myself in these characters. In fact, even just a couple of years ago I had a conversation with a good friend about women who get roofied, and this friend even, in their 30's, expressed fault on the side of the woman. I can speak to this, as someone who has had the *wonderful* experience of being drugged (that was sarcasm, in case you didn't catch it), that it was 100%, explicitly not my fault in any way. In fact, I couldn't have been more responsible at the time of the incident. But it took me a long time to realize that it wasn't my fault because I didn't give consent. 

So yes, I saw myself and my peers in these high school kids in a graphic novel, just the way I see all adolescents in their semi-developed prefrontal cortices.  Without a full understanding of what consent is and why it matters, kids will continue to believe that as long as it hasn't happened to them, that others should have made better (or even different) choices. 

Which is what I think is the brilliance of this graphic novel. It doesn't treat teens as if they have pedantic, juvenile conversations, but rather meets them where they are. Whether it's gossiping about the new girl being promiscuous, using the word "gay" as a pejorative, or doing things sexually with a boyfriend or girlfriend they aren't comfortable with, we all can understand these things because we've been there. So when the authors turn toward defining consent (with a diverse cast of characters, mind you), it's a seamless transition from gossip to, "Hey guys, wait a second..."

I'll be buying this in hard copy and holding on to it for my own kiddo when it comes to be about that time. We have a couple of other books we are using to guide him when he's younger, and we will add this to our arsenal when he's middle school age. Talk about consent can never start too young. 

Ghosts: A Graphic Novel

I have mentioned before, and I will continue to mention, the need for children's and young adult books with protagonists of color. At BEA this year, I picked up Raina Telgemeier's Ghosts with the hope that I would enjoy it as much as I was hoping I would.

Catrina and her family are moving to Northern California where the weather is gloomy and everyone is obsessed with ghosts. Her sister, Maya, has cystic fibrosis and it's a better climate for her. Catrina is upset and is slow to make friends -- everyone in this town is crazy about All Souls Day when souls return to find their loved ones. Maya buys in immediately, and can't wait to welcome their grandmother back. Catrina agrees to go out with her friends that night and is wonderfully shocked to find that she is part of something bigger than herself.

This was an absolutely charming book. I was so wonderfully, pleasantly surprised by how moving the story was. Cat loves her sister, and Maya adores Cat. When Maya becomes direly ill and Cat blames herself, the connection between the two is so powerful yet so personal, as it's easy to relate to two sisters who love each other yet want their space. The guilt is also a familiar feeling; Cat feels guilty about Maya's illness even thought it's not her fault. This book is perfect for young adult audiences and grown ups alike.

The return of the spirits to the town is amazing to read. First of all, the graphics are outstanding, but it's really the story that got me. How Cat is able to let herself go and enjoy herself in the moment when the spirits come to visit is fun and it is touching. She is able to realize what a gift it is to be in the middle of something so big and so light, and it was amazing to watch her journey as a character end in this moment. This is a perfect book, and it was a pleasure and an honor to be able to pick it up.

V for Vendetta

"Remember, remember, the fifth of November..." Yes, friends, I had never read Alan Moore's V for Vendetta until this fall. I have been waiting to get this post up until today, because, well...you know.

(Also, a happy birthday to my mother.)

The year is 1997, and the citizens of the United Kingdom are living under a fascist government as sheep who follow along with no qualms about their passive lifestyle. V, whose real face we never see, sets out to right the wrongs of his past and wake up his fellow citizens to fight the good fight and win back their own lives. Through this he takes Evey under his belt, a woman who was working as a prostitute (or, at least, trying to) and mentors her into becoming his next revolutionary protege. 

Of course I had seen the movie years ago, and honestly, I couldn't remember much of it other than, and I may be paraphrasing here, that the people should not fear the government, but that the government should fear the people. It was so eye-opening tor read the source material up close and personal. I was surprised at how violent the graphic novel could be, and even in 2015, and knowing what I know about how humans actually treat each other, I was still taken aback by the violence and inhumanity of the human experiments carried out on powerless people by their government. To that end, it's very difficult not to side with V. His personal vendetta is greater than just himself; it's about sparking a revolution, and you can't walk away from that.

I recently read Book Slut's post on this novel, and it's really great and very much worth a read. Like I said earlier, I can't remember much about the film, which I think is perfectly fine, really. What I loved about this novel was contained snugly inside of it, and it is the revolutionary underpinnings of what V stands for. He wants his fellow countrymen to wake up and fight for their right to live peaceably and not under the thumb of a totalitarian government that picks who lives and dies based on who is worthy and powerful enough. The only way to do this is to incite a little bit of violence. I am not advocating that as the only form of revolutionary means, but in this story, it is what makes absolute sense.

I understand why this novel means so much to it's readers, and it's a cult classic for a reason. It was well worth the read, and it's prompted me to dig deeper on the graphic novel itself and the ways it has been used in the subsequent 33 years since it's original publication. What does the revolution look like over the three decades following? We have some answers, and we are still working on it as a human race.

For purchase below. 

Guest Post: Maggie Thrasher on Honor Girl

Today we are so lucky to welcome Maggie Thrash, the author of Honor Girl, to discuss her work and her choice of using a graphic novel to share her story.

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Comics were the only way I could tell this story. It's a memoir, and it's pretty personal. In the past when I've tried to write about myself, I tend to get really awkward and sound like an alien masquerading as an especially self-centered human female. Comics are a way for me to zoom out of the quagmire of my perspective, and present myself objectively: There I am, that's what I look like. That's the kind of stuff I say and do. Here are the people around me. And here's what happened when I fell in love at my all-girls Christian summer camp and was never the same again.

I've never taken an art class, and when I started this I didn't have much experience with comics. The learning curve was steep. I studied the Scott Pilgrim books by Bryan Lee O'Malley very closely to figure out how to write a graphic novel. Scott Pilgrim is totally populist and unpretentious; it's essential to me. I love how the book just BEGINS. The first line is “Scott Pilgrim's dating a high schooler!” And you're just like, who is Scott Pilgrim? Who is this high schooler? I must know more!

I'm also a Donna Tartt fan in a deep way. Her characters can be out of touch with themselves, a little aloof from their emotions, a little self-deceiving. But you can see their raggedness, and how anguished they are.

Another huge influence for me is the Twilight series. Those books changed me forever. There's a gravitas to that love story which I hadn't seen much before in YA. There's nothing whimsical or cute about Bella and Edward's love. It's not a crush. It's real and it's intense and it almost kills them multiple times! People get distracted by the vampire nonsense, but what Twilight is really about it how love KILLS you. That's how it felt to be in love with this girl at camp. I felt like I was going to die! Anyone who's been in love can probably relate to that. 

Honor Girl: A Graphic Memoir

At BEA this year I picked up an excerpt of Maggie Thrash's Honor Girl and I fell madly in love. The publisher kindly provided me with a copy of the most gorgeous book I have seen lately. I am so grateful!

Summer camp has been a staple in so many young lives, and Maggie attended hers for many of her formative years. At 15 years old, having never even been kissed, she heads back to Camp Bellflower for Girls for another summer. She runs around with old friends, moons over the Backstreet Boys, becomes a rifle expert, and falls in love. This love is quite unexpected though, being with one of the older female counselors. As they spend the summer trying to stay away from each other yet exploring the attraction, they must keep this a secret or risk exposing themselves in a time and place where it’s just not accepted.

Teen angst shows up a lot in literature, so while it’s nothing new, it comes around again and again because it’s something we all know and can relate to on the simplest of levels. I didn’t necessarily struggle with my own sexuality as a teenager. (No one ever asks, “When did you know you were attracted to boys, Nicole?” The answer would be, “Since age four when I chased my first boyfriend down on the playground and kissed him.”) However, that doesn’t mean that I can’t understand what it feels like to suspect everyone’s looking at me and trying to make me out to be whatever they want in their own eyes. 

This is where Thrash’s graphic novel excels. It’s classic adolescence, where we all feel everyone’s always looking at us even when they’re not (because really, they are all concerned that everyone’s looking at them), and how we grow and explore and learn when we feel we are always being watched. Don’t get me wrong – the illustrations are fantastic. But it’s really the heart of the story, the summer at camp, the stirrings of attraction, and the never ending thoughts of that special someone, that really draws you in and keeps you with this story. Regardless of your sexuality, you’ve been there. The lack of concentration. The desperation you feel when circumstances keep you from seeing that person you are dying to see. (WHAT DO YOU MEAN I HAVE CHICKEN POX AND CAN’T GO TO SCHOOL? I NEED TO SEE JASON IN 3^RD PERIOD CHEMISTRY!)

Thrash’s story is universal, and that’s what made my heart break when I read it. I understood her obsession with excelling with her rifle. It was the one thing she could do to take her mind off of her feelings. I understood her desperation to not let anyone find out about her feelings, and at the camp dance, the mix of that need with her desire to get the boy from the brother camp asking her to dance away from her. (Can I also say that if you are a Backstreet Boys fan from back in the day, this book is worth picking up for some fantastic references, including but not limited to an imitation night.) When the Honor Girl ceremony came around, I knew what was going to happen. That's what made it all the more difficult to read. 

I would also like to point out that this book is gorgeous. When it came in the mail, I just about lost my mind. It was stunning. I know that’s not necessarily a reason that one should love a book, but really, it was jaw-dropping. After I finished it I immediately put it on my shelf, and you all know I don’t keep books willy nilly. This copy just looks so beautiful and colorful and serene on my shelf. 

For purchase below.

I Was a Child: A Memoir

I was incredibly interested in the idea of an illustrated memoir, so I picked up Bruce Eric Kaplan's I Was a Child this weekend. 

Bruce Eric Kaplan is best known for his cartoons in The New Yorker, but in this lovely, whimsical remembrance of a piece, he explores the bits and pieces of his memory that make up his childhood. It is a sharp reminder of how we all remember our own childhoods -- rather than as a flowing narrative, it comes back in paragraphs and anecdotes, often accompanied by flashbulb memories. Kaplan captures that type of memory as he explores his relationship with his parents, his childhood, and his home. 

There was something so indelibly charming about this memoir, in the way that Kaplan was able to tell his story in small illustrations and with only a paragraph or two of prose. My particularly favorite one was when his father insisted on locking the door every night with a hook and eye lock which would keep out absolutely no one in the event of an unfortunate break in. Nonetheless, every night, the hook and eye was fastened. I loved the stories of his parents, and of the memories of the trips on the New Jersey turnpike as an adult. 

Growing older is hard in some ways, great in others. The hardest part of getting older is your parents getting older. Just a few years ago I looked at my parents and realized they weren't in their 40's anymore. That is the perpetual age I will always see them as since that's what they were in my 20's when I got to know them best. But I'm now in my 30's, and my parents are pushing 60. (Well, my dad is already 60, so there. Sorry to out you on my blog, G.) My parents look great for their age, and if I look even a fraction as good as my mom does right now, my future rich husband will have a trophy wife on his hands. (Wait a second, wouldn't he already???) What resonated with me the most right now in my life was Kaplan's memories of his parents, both as a child and reflecting on them as an adult. I found it moving and touching. 

This was a lovely memoir that I was able to read in a day. I will keep it and go back to it in another year, because I think it will speak to me in a different way at another time in my life.  

For purchase below. 

To This Day: For the Bullied and Beautiful

Continuing on with YA Week (middle grades edition!), I picked up at BEA last year Shane Koyczan's To This Day: For the Bullied and Beautiful. It looked intriguing and I love recommending older books for older kids who are in high school but still want something meaningful. 

In 2013, a spoken word poet presented his manifest on bullying that ultimately reached over twelve million people. Shane's work is an anti-bullying poem that was animated with intensely lovely graphics, and those same lyrics are put on the page with new graphics done by 30 artists from all over the world. Each verse is an interpretation of personal empowerment.

This is an absolutely lovely poem that resonates with anyone who went through childhood. (That's all of us.) Bullying is a problem, to be sure, but I believe we would be hard-pressed to find a person who wasn't picked on at some point in their school career and who doesn't know what it is like to feel like an outsider and not in control of those feelings. The story of the girl called ugly who grows up to have a warped sense of beauty was especially powerful, and in the moment where Shane speaks to her to tell her that her children see the beauty in her heart first is a punch in the gut. It's a reminder that no matter how we see ourselves, our children will always look to us as their parent first. Putting aside our own hurt will only help our young ones develop a positive view of themselves.

The opening lines, where Shane tells us that he called pork chops "karate chops," which ultimately leads to a misunderstanding when called to the principal's office to explain bruises on his body, was interesting to me on a professional level. It was a huge reminder how willing we are as adults to jump to conclusions rather than dig deeper with questions. Now, I don't know how old Shane is, but I do know what was happening in the 1980's and the jump-to-conclusions epidemic sweeping the nation regarding child endangerment. It is easy to see how others wanted to find something wrong without asking just a few more questions of Shane--what do you mean your grandmother gives you karate chops? Oh, and how did you get those bruises?

Ultimately, though, this poem is a story of finding self-love and self-esteem in the darkest, most hard to reach places. The comparison of depression to a circus was pretty spot on, and the introducation and post-script were also excellent companions to using the story with older students as a way to express what uncalled-for mocking and even rudeness do to people. I say that this is more than bullying, because harsh words affect us as much as consistent, mean, sense of power differentials do. Humanity, man. We just need a little of it. 

For purchase below. 

The Murder Code: A Novel

I LOVE MYSTERIES. I just do. Say "murder," and I am immediately needing to pick up the book. This is The Murder Code by Steve Mosby.

Detective Hicks is a seasoned detective who understands that behind every murder there is a reason--and it's always a reason that can be deduced. One night, a woman's body is found, bludgeoned to death. All signs point to the ex until, the very same night, another body, that of an itinerant man, is found. There is no connection, and as the murders keep occurring in great numbers, Hicks and his partner become more and more frustrated. The killer is defying logic. There is a code in these murders--can they find it in time to prevent so many others from losing their lives?

I really loved this book. I wasn't completely sold for the first quarter, but I am soooooo happy I stuck with it. By the time I hit the 3/4 mark, I was obsessed--couldn't put it down. It came at the point Hicks consulted with a data expert, one who looks for patterns. I will say that I couldn't figure out the pattern until the protagonist did, and I thought it was quite impressive that a story could be weaved so intricately.

I loved the side story that was happening as well, that of Hicks dealing with his past and his present. His estranged wife is pregnant, and he has yet to get excited about the baby. Some of this has to do with his abusive childhood, and some of it is just what happens over the course of growing apart from your mate. It was a great part of the story and really heightened the intrigue hovering over the main event. I love a good story that makes me think and pulls me back in every time I have to shut the book, and this was certainly it. It was a great thriller. 

Kindle version on left, hard copy on right.

Jerusalem: The Story of a City and a Family

I was wholeheartedly blown away by Boaz Yakin and Nick Bertuzzi's Jerusalem: A Story of a City and a Family. When I got my hands on this book I was bowled over.

During a volatile period in the world's history (1940-1948), a family sticks together to make it through the chaos. Over three generations, fifteen family members make it though years of war and family strife. Members of the family leave, never to return; others show up unexpectedly. Altogether they find a way to have faith in their country and themselves.

This graphic novel was just positively stunning. I was blown away by the conceptual yet so realistic setting of the story and the graphics in this book. Graphic novels are necessary for emotional depth. Pictures are needed when words fail.

The story is raw and painful at times. I can't even begin to imagine what one must go through living in a time of war; this novel, however, begins to represent it pictorially for the reader. It's an honest and lovingly depicted story, and it's so clear how much Yakin cares about his past and wants to share it with the world. He does it in such a brilliant way that it is a gift from him to us.

 

Marbles: Mania, Depression, Michelangelo, and Me

A graphic memoir about manic depression? Of course I want to read it, silly goose! This is Marbles: Mania, Depression, Michelangelo, and Me by Ellen Forney. Pass it over.

Ellen Forney has been a celebrated cartoonist for most of her life. All is well until she realizes one day that it isn't. She is diagnosed as bipolar and struggles for the next decade to get the peaks and valleys, which she can now name, under control. It's a long process fraught with drug changes, informing those around her, and acceptance of what it is. Ellen chronicles this with her trademark wit and drawings.

I love graphic novels for the exact same reason that I love musicals. I once heard someone describe musicals as necessary for hard or dark information. When we no longer have words, we sing. I feel that this is similar to the needs of graphic novels; sometimes words just aren't enough and a picture can tell us so much more of what we need to know with twice the emotional power.

I found this memoir to be touching and powerful. It is hard to watch someone you know and love spiral downward into their own mind, and it is even worse on the inside. I felt that Forney really captured the essence of the highs and lows of this disease while being so brutally honest with the reader about her struggles. I am so appreciative that she went out on a limb to present the realities of her disease as seen through her eyes.

Persepolis

I have been itching to read Marjane Satrapi's Persepolis for years and I was recently presented with the opportunity when a friend of mine shoved in my hand and said, "You have to read this!" So I most certainly did.

During the tumultuous period in history, Marjane lives with her parents in Tehran when the Islamic Revolution breaks out. Marjane's parents privately rebel while she herself becomes more and more outspoken as she loses friends and family. Close calls occur with the authorities occur until it becomes too much for her parents. Something must change.

I was genuinely bowled over by this book. I am so glad my friend sent me away with this, the sequel, and the movie. It was gorgeous, fulfilling, and honest. It was full of pride in country and in family. The story was raw and emotionally painful at times. But it was Marjane's story, and I am so thankful she told it so I could experience it.

I believe I have said before that my life has a wonderful way of connecting information in ways I could never predict. I picked this up during Hurricane Sandy, which happened just a couple of weeks after I saw the movie Argo, directed by Ben Affleck, which focused on the American hostages taken during this time at the American embassy in Tehran. Each of these pieces of art informed and enhanced each other.

Back to Persepolis. Many of you have probably read this, but you should pick it up again. Many of you have not yet read it, and you should get it for your upcoming holiday travel. Or you might want to pick it up to give as a gift this upcoming holiday season. Hint, hint.

 

Are You My Mother?

I read Alison Bechdel's Fun Home: A Family Tragicomic a couple of years back and fell in love with the book (and the graphic novel genre as well).  It was one of the most affecting and jarring books I had read at the time and I couldn't stop telling people about it.  Are You My Mother is Bechdel's newest about her relationship with her mother.

Bechdel has always had a fraught relationship with her mother, quite a bit of it stemming from her parent's relationship.  Bechdel uses the theories of psychoanalyst Donald Winnicott to frame her coming-of-age story with her mother in this graphic novel.  At a young age her mother told her that she was too old for hugs and kisses, leaving the affection to her younger brothers.  As Alison matures into adulthood and tries to form stable relationships of her own, she sees the effects of this lack of affection taking hold in her everyday life and it's negative effects.

I just think that Bechdel can do no wrong in her novels.  She writes with such pathos and care, and she holds nothing back with her beloved readers.  She cares about sharing her truth and using this medium as a catharsis.  I am grateful for this, as she has created books that keep me reading until I reach the bitter end--there are no breaks for air or for water when reading Bechdel's work. 

I can't recommend Bechdel enough to any reader who wants an emotional and observer experience into relationships that are fraught with missed connections and a deep fear of intimacy.  These books will make you think; these books will make you be grateful for the relationships in your life.