Graphic Novel Review: Sunday, by Olivier Schrauwen

reviewed by Luke C. Jackson

Olivier Schrauwen, Sunday. Fantagraphics, 2024. US $39.99. ISBN: 9781683969679. https://www.fantagraphics.com/products/sunday

Highly regarded Belgian cartoonist Olivier Schrauwen is known for producing both short- and long-form comics that combine moments of absurdity and surrealism with in-depth characterisation that often depict the inner lives of men living in isolation. He brings a new level of depth to this type of character study in Sunday, a 472-page graphic novel from Fantagraphics.

Sunday is regarded by many cultures as a day of rest, relaxation, and contemplation. In his eponymously-named graphic novel, Schrauwen depicts a fictionalised account of the life of his cousin, Thibault, a thoroughly ordinary man, on a largely uneventful Sunday. By offering a nearly minute-by-minute account of Thibault’s physical experiences and mental processes between 8:15am, when he awakens, and midnight, Schrauwen invites the reader to inhabit the world, and consciousness, of his protagonist. In this way, his approach is reminiscent of early Modernist novels, including Mrs Dalloway and Ulysses, both of which were set in a single location on a single day, and are particularly remarkable for their use of interiority, which creates a level of intimacy and identification with their lead characters. According to notes provided by Schrauwen in his introduction, he was attracted to the project because it would give him the opportunity to use the comics medium to create something ‘beautiful’ from what his cousin Thibault described as a ‘wasted day’. Such days are those filled with ‘procrastination, aimlessness and boredom, in which [Thibault] failed to do anything edifying’.

In trying to find a way to describe how Schrauwen achieves this feat, it might be most appropriate to look at music. Certainly, music features in the graphic novel explicitly. Thibault wakes up with the song ‘Sex Machine’ in his head, an ironic theme song to the first two hours of his day given what can only be described as his ambivalent relationship to actual sex with his girlfriend, Migali, a visual artist who is on her way home after weeks spent engaged in collaborative art in an unnamed African village. While she has been immersed in African culture in reality, the closest Thibault gets is playing West African music on his turntable while imagining the band surrounding him in his unremarkable apartment. Another live music performance is featured when Nora, a previous love interest of Thibault’s, and Thibault’s cousin Rik, are depicted attending a piano concert, while – much later – a parallel is drawn between a mole on Nora’s face and the symbol for a pause in musical annotation.

However, the graphic novel’s musical connection runs deeper than these explicit references to artists, bands, and musical notation. Like a conductor on a stage, Schrauwen has utilised words, images, and the spatial elements of the page control the reader’s perception and experience. Indeed, Schrauwen is ever-present within the text. In the introduction, he provides ‘reading instructions’, along with a self-portrait, and later appears as an illustrated version of himself, to offer a brief commentary on his cousin’s character. Schrauwen’s illustration style is equal parts impressionistic and realistic, like a rough and slightly naïve rotoscope. Spatially, while he has chosen to depict the world of the text largely from eye-level in a series of close-ups, mid-shots and wide shots of the type familiar to filmgoers, there are instances of more dynamic representation, as the camera floats above our protagonist and even tours the galaxy, the latter a product of Thibault’s fantastical imaginings.

Reinforcing the link between layout and Thibault’s subjective experience, when he smokes marijuana, the panels depicting the experiences of the secondary characters whose experience he is not privy to, become far less linear. Some panels snake around the page, while the frames of others melt and merge together. At the same time, the page numbers become unmoored from their usual place at the bottom of the page, rearranging themselves almost randomly before disappearing altogether. Thibault’s thoughts are similarly jumbled, with some of his words appearing enlarged, making them impossible to read, while others run in circles and even backwards. It is in these moments that Sunday’s most outstanding – and most musical – feature can be seen clearly. This is what Daniel Albright has referred to as Modernist music’s ‘testing of the limits of aesthetic construction’. 

In these ways, this graphic novel defies categorisation. It is a depiction of banality that is anything but banal, and an exploration of the life of an unremarkable man that is nevertheless remarkable. In this way, it’s a book about all of us … whether we’d like to admit it or not. Thibault (or perhaps it is Olivier Schrauwen, speaking through Thibault) says as much when he suggests, ‘I’m holding up a mirror … so you can recognize your flawed selves.’ Sunday shows how, when viewed from the right perspective, what might otherwise be dismissed as a ‘wasted day’ can have value and – yes – even beauty.

 A version of this review will appear in print in IJOCA 26:2.

 

Graphic Novel Review: Woman & Man+

 reviewed by C.T. Lim

Craig Yoe. Woman & Man+. Clover Press, 2024. https://cloverpress.us/products/woman-man

Craig Yoe is best known as an editor and publisher of archival comic book compilations (usually those that have fallen out of copyright) that he put together under his own imprint Yoe Books and for other publishers like Abrams, Fantagraphics, IDW and Dark Horse. He has not drawn a comic book for decades, but since moving to Bagio City in the Philippines recently, he has come out with Woman & Man+. 

The backmatter of the book encourages an autobiographical reading: "A wildly surreal autobiographical story of Yoe losing his love, his country, and some say - his sanity - and his struggle to reinvent himself." Yoe himself proclaimed, "This humble underground comix / pretentious-art book is a psychedelic telling of my fleeing the U.S. to hook up with the underground comix comrades in Berlin, then booted out of Germany to find solace - then devastating heartbreak - in the Canary Islands. Finally the Philippines have granted me asylum... and hope." In his introduction, Yoe explains he was mentally and emotionally in a bad place where he had no choice but to draw Woman & Man+ to survive and to find hope. Thus, this book is art therapy. 

One would be hard-pressed to see the above-described journey of NY-Berlin-Canary Island-the Philippines in the art and story. As described in the backmatter, it is a surrealistic landscape of Dali and Hieronymus Bose mixed with Robert Crumb. Animation Magazine described this book, "like Dr Seuss on acid!" It is pop art by way of 1970s underground comix (the period when Craig started doing comics) as we have Minnie Mouse, Batman (Adam West), Nancy, Snoopy, Korky the Cat and even Mr Monopoly made their guest appearances. The art is reminiscent of Keiichi Tanaami, but without the vibrant colors. It is closer to what the late Rick Griffin (an old friend of Craig's back in the day) or S. Clay Wilson may have done if they were still alive, and working with the heavy black and whites. In a way, Craig is the link between the 1970s underground comix and the 2000s alternative comics of Dave Cooper. Craig's position has always been that comics are not meant to be taken too seriously. They are not high art but rather, in this book, it is “Yoe-brow.”

The bottom line: the way to appreciate Woman & Man+ is to let its stream of consciousness sweep over you and go with the flow. Is it about the eternal struggle between the passions of men and women? Maybe. Some might want a stronger narrative structure like the wordless comics of Phil Yeh (another artist of Craig's generation), but we should take Woman & Man+ as it is. Craig is approaching his mid-70s soon. It will be a pity if he does not write and draw more at this late stage of his career. Maybe the cool air of Bagio City will do him some good and we will see more of his art. 

In his 70s, Craig Yoe continues to be on the road.

( photo by CT Lim)

 

Graphic Novel Review: The Incredible Story of Cooking: From Prehistory to today, 500,000 years of adventure.

 reviewed by Cord Scott, UMGC Asia

Stephane Douay and Benoist Simmat and Montana Kane (translator).  The Incredible Story of Cooking: From Prehistory to today, 500,000 years of adventure. NBM Publishing, 2024. ISBN 9781681123417. https://nbmpub.com/products/the-incredible-story-of-cooking

One of the simplest, yet most complex of basic needs, is food.  We need it to survive, but in this era of food on demand in the industrialized world, we have come to take it for granted unless it is not to our taste, or even expected taste.  Through the development of food preparation, Douay and Simmat take us into the history of cooking.  While such a momentous undertaking may seem impossible, the creators give the reader a good overview of how we have come to develop our collective culinary skills.

As with any historical text, sourcing of information is important, and this book does go into a variety of sources from centuries of written material.  It also relies on information from academics, cultural anthropologists, and historical accounts to give us an interaction of food and the development of society as a whole.

The book is divided into nine general chapters, with a final chapter centered on recipes for dishes made during historical times, as previously referenced in the book.  The first chapter covers the most time, from various proto humans through to the last ice age of approximately 9000 years ago.  This chapter goes into detail as to the types of food eaten, mostly through gathering of what could be foraged while watching what other animals ate to determine what was edible versus poisonous.  Many of the anecdotes on the developments of cooking are illustrated by humorous interactions of random characters and give the stories a human quality.

The first chapter also emphasizes the importance of preservation, such as lacto-fermentation as well as that of cold storage and other methods for preservation of foods.  The domestication of grains allowed for the later concepts of farming.  These concepts allowed people to sustain themselves for longer periods of time and therefore settle into one area.  This in turn allowed societies to work on permanent structures, develop written language and even preserve history.  Some of the basic diets from this era have come back into vogue, as is referenced later in the last chapter about food sustainability and diet.

The middle chapters deal with the rise of ancient civilizations such as Sumer, Egypt, Greece and Rome, and how their dietary habits influenced the rest of the world.  The authors state the creation of alcoholic beverages was important, but did not address the issue of why water was not used (due to contaminants).  This may be simply thought to be common knowledge, clean water is something taken so much for granted in the Western World, that the recent widespread development of it often is unstated in historical settings.

The link between food and trade is also explored in the middle chapters.  The idea of Chinese cuisine, going along the “silk road” towards the West, where concepts such as pasta were altered to suit needs and adapt to local grains was important.  This migration of spices, foods and preparation methods is often understated except when it leads to crises, such as the South American potato being introduced in Europe, only to be dismissed as an unfit food item for any but animals or the poor.

Douay does a nice job of explaining the traditional aspects of kitchen duties in the ancient world through the present day.  He highlights the idea of the importance of food as haute cuisine to diplomacy and status. He also explains the development of the modern restaurant concept, gastronomy (an ancient Greek word, revitalized by the French in the later 1800s) and the idea of standardization of food preparation.

The final chapters deal with food preservation in terms of cans and the creation of the food industry.  For this section, Douay notes the industrialization of the meat packing industry in Cincinnati and Chicago, to the phases of “pure foods” promoted such as Kellogg’s Corn Flakes and Graham Crackers (p. 190).  Inevitably, any discussion of modern food leads to American fast food and its impact on the global scale as well as that of general nutrition.

The last part of the book glosses over more recent trends in terms of food security and availability.  More could have been written on these more present trends.  One “new” trend is that of getting protein through the consumption of insects to reduce the land needed for cattle; however, the idea of eating insects existed in many ancient cultures.  The new food movement recipe on page 214 for sustainable soup, using scraps of food, actually is what needed to be done for most of human history until very recently. Lastly, newer movements in cooking, such as the “slow food movement” are discussed as moves towards the future.

One of the few areas where I would have liked to see a bit more information is for spices and their use in southern climates.  It seems counterintuitive, but the idea that spicy food makes one sweat, and hence cool off, is not addressed aside from a quick reference.  Overall, the book is one that will give a basic overview of the culinary world, and it is an interesting one.  The recipes are ones that are also interesting but may or may not be practical in a current setting.

Graphic Novel Review: Adieu Birkenau: Ginette Kolinka’s Story of Survival

reviewed by Matt Reingold

Ginette Kolinka, Jean-David Morvan and Victor Matet (writers), Cesc and Efa (illustrators), Roger (colorist) and Edward Gauvin (translator). Adieu Birkenau: Ginette Kolinka’s Story of Survival. SelfMadeHero, 2024. https://www.selfmadehero.com/books/adieu-birkenau-ginette-kolinka-s-story-of-survival

If one were to compile a list of the subjects most-featured in Jewish graphic novels, the Holocaust would surely be the topic that has garnered the most attention. Since Art Spiegelman’s Maus was first serialized in Raw in 1980 and then subsequently published in two well-received and successful collected volumes in 1986 and 1991, license was afforded to authors and illustrators to creatively explore the Nazi-perpetrated genocide of 6 million of Europe’s Jews.

As the 21st century nears its quarter mark, the proliferation of graphic narratives about the Holocaust has not slowed despite the increased chronological distance from the original tragedy. In the past three years alone, a variety of works in English have been published that explore different facets of the Holocaust. This includes grandchildren trying to understand their grandparents’ experiences (Solomon J. Brager, Heavyweight, 2024; Jordan Mechner, Replay, 2024), child survivors telling their own stories (But I Live, 2022), speculative stories about what Anne Frank would do today were she alive (Ari Folman, Where is Anne Frank, 2022), and the horrors of the Holocaust on American soldiers (Leela Corwin, Victory Parade, 2024). Added to this group is Adieu Birkenau which first appeared in French in 2023.

Adieu Birkenau tells the story of Ginette Kolinka’s life from before the Holocaust and what she endured during it. The graphic autobiograhy was produced by a team of creators that included three writers (including Kolinka), two artists, and one colorist. The work is set in both the past and present, with readers learning about Kolinka’s upbringing in France, her eventual deportation to Auschwitz-Birkenau, and how, in her seventies, she began to speak publicly about her wartime traumas. Much of the book is set during a 2020 school trip to Poland that was designed to introduce students to the horrors of the Holocaust. Kolinka’s role on the trip was as a survivor, there to speak to the students about her personal wartime experiences. Her co-authors, Morvan and Matet, joined the trip in order to document it for the graphic novel.

Readers who have deep familiarity with other Holocaust graphic novels will no doubt see vestiges of these other works in Adieu Birkenau. Using travel to Poland as a conduit for conveying historical traumas can be found in Jérémie Dres We Won’t Visit Auschwitz. Cesc and Efta’s superimposing contemporary experiences atop historical memories is also not novel; Rutu Modan did this in The Property. The use of history to inform reader reactions to contemporary injustices is also something that is present in other Holocaust graphic narratives. This includes Folman’s Where is Anne Frank and Sid Jacobson and Ernie Colón’s Anne Frank.

My point in calling attention to the employed narrative tropes and the artistic decisions made by Adieu Birkenau’s creative team is not to suggest that their work is a duplication of previously issued works. Nor is it to offer a comparison that concludes that one rendering of the Holocaust is preferable to another. Rather, acknowledging what has come before - and with regards to the Holocaust, it is so very much - allows for a greater appreciation for what is new and novel in Adieu Birkenau’s exploration of the Holocaust.

First is the audience of school children who attend the trip to Poland alongside Kolinka. Though we do not know much about them, what we do know is that they are not students who attend a Jewish day school. Rather, they are average French school children who are taking advantage of the opportunity to learn from someone who personally suffered during a traumatic moment in world history. In fact, they are quite like Kolinka was as a child: an average French citizen. Kolinka loved playing sports and her closest friends were not Jewish. In fact, she openly shares with the reader that her family was not particularly religious. By calling attention to the ways that Kolinka is like the children with whom she is travelling and not someone primarily defined by something that makes her other, they bear witness to a tragedy that could have befallen them had they been born at a different time and to a different family. As witnesses, they, too, become owners of a sacred story and become part of the narrative of transmission. As readers, we, too, now become owners alongside the children, bound by the same obligation.

A second important feature of the work is its depiction of bodies. Maus’ power lay in its metaphoric depictions that highlighted the ways that Jews (and other groups) were seen as distinct from one another. Cesc and Efa do the very opposite. Their illustrated bodies are drawn in proportion and reveal the realness of the human physique and what happens to it when it is broken down and ravaged by hunger, disease, and violence. Readers see what naked bodies of average women look like as they await having their heads shaved and their arms tattooed. This includes flabby midsections, sagging breasts, and pubic hair. Their rendition eschews a Hollywoodization that presents bodies in an unrealistically idealized form. Instead, once again, what readers see are real people and real victims. Furthermore, the illustrations capture the women trying to cover themselves as they are exposed against their will. I cannot recall another example of a Holocaust graphic novel that so boldly and graphically depicts the human form at its most vulnerable and with this, the brutality of the Nazi regime.

The primary creative license that Cesc and Efa take has to do with a series of dark shadows. Used in panels set in Birkenau, they inhabit Kolinka’s memories and represent the many Jews who were killed because of Nazi persecution. As Kolinka guides the students through Birkenau, the shadows become illustrated in the present and no longer solely occupy space in Kolinka’s memories. Their enduring presence in her memory results in them becoming imaginatively rendered in the present. In these scenes, readers come to better understand the awful staying power of trauma and how, despite having lived outside of Birkenau for over 70 years, parts of her remain there too.

 It is the confluence of honest renderings of the past, depictions of the impact of trauma, and the invocation to create a different future that make Adieu Birkenau a valuable addition to the catalogue of Holocaust graphic novels. The children’s personal interactions with Kolinka at Birkenau depict the relationship that forms between the survivor who testifies and the audience who receives it. What we, as readers, gain from witnessing their transformation is the opportunity to also be transformed as we gain new understandings into one of the 20th century’s worst atrocities through the narrative power of a single survivor.