Book Review: On Black Bandes Dessinées and Transcolonial Power

 reviewed by John A. Lent, International Journal of Comic Art

Michelle Bumatay. On Black Bandes Dessinées and Transcolonial Power. Columbus:  The Ohio State University Press, 2025. 155 pp. US $36.95 (Paperback). ISBN:  978-0-8142-5937-5. https://ohiostatepress.org/books/titles/9780814215821.html

 Any time a new book appears that concentrates on a large segment of Africa and its comics art, celebration is in order, for the pickings have been slim. Anthologies of a particular cartoonist’s work, such as that of Zapiro, Barly Baruti, Marguerite Abouet, Gado, and other masters, are more readily available, as are biographical treatises and analytical monographs on specific characters. However, few continental or regional overviews exist.

So, a hearty welcome to Michelle Bumatay’s On Black Bandes Dessinées and Transcolonial Power, that consists of four chapters that analyze the works of Francophile West and West Central African cartoonists, from the Congo, Ivory Coast, and Cameroon.

The author sets the parameters of her study as being built around “key moments, artists and authors, themes, and publications” of Black bandes dessinées, which include, “political and editorial cartoons, serial publications and self-published magazines, anthologies, mainstream and independent albums, blogs, digital comics, and mobile apps” (15). Though the methodology of the work is missing, it seems to be a qualitative textual analysis with a small mixture of biographical analysis. Bumatay emphasizes the key role that the Franco-Belgian colonial heritage and ongoing imperialism have played on the development of Black bandes dessinées, as well as their effects on the artists, cautioning that the artist’s work varies from “individual to individual and from one project to another” (130), and that attention must be paid to context.

Notions about important West/West-Central African traits and issues are systematically analyzed/argued by Bumatay--that self-fashioning is a “crucial component” of Black cultures, exemplified in her case study of Kinshasa from the late 1960s to the 1990s; how Abouet markets her comics through the postcolonial exotic, and how she pushes for a “new inclusive understanding of universalism that demands a reworking of notions of gender, race, and power” (130); how Black bandes dessinées, for decades, have decried borderization’s (Northern migration) ruinous impacts, raising levels of brutalization, suffering, and indifference, and how these cartoonists have fashioned their styles to become “symbolic forms of restitution” of the world’s environment.

What Bumatay has achieved here is praiseworthy--giving her interpretations of the works of some African bandes dessinées cartoonists, supported by close readings of their works and backed up by similar notions and ideas of a host of researchers from different fields. That was her intention, well and good.

But, let me go off on a tangent--in no way, to devalue the merits of the author’s work--, and ask, are these interpretations aligned with what the artists intended? We don’t know unless journalists and researchers ask them, and, in this book, there does not appear to be evidence that any interviews that may have been done with the artists were used. It would not have been an onerous task for Bumatay to search for interviews in this high-tech age, and, if none is available, which is very unlikely, she could have conducted the interviews herself. Granted that interviewing was not a part of her research plan, so, maybe it can be a major part of her next research project.

The four artists discussed at length in On Black Bandes Dessinées… are still alive, active, and likely accessible. Barly Baruti (born 1959, in the Congo) has lived in Belgium since 1992; Marguerite Abouet (b. 1971, in Ivory Coast) resides in Romainville, France; Papa Mfumu’Eto 1^er (b. 1963) is still in Kinshasa, Congo, and Japhet Miagotar most probably is still around, having been interviewed as recent as 2019. To make matters even easier should Bumatay choose to pursue a topic of this nature, much of the original art of Mfumu is being archived at the University of Florida, not far from where she is an assistant professor, Florida State University.

A suggestion for a future research project for an author whose book is being reviewed may seem to be out of place, and, it may be, but it was made with good intentions, one of which was to get my point across any way I could, that interviewing cartoonists while they are still with us is extremely important for comics scholarship. Okay, point made. Sorry, Ms. Bumatay, for the interruption.

To wrap up, On Black Bandes Dessinées and Transcolonial Power is a valuable contribution to comics scholarship, because it enlightens about cartooning in a part of the world where comics art research is sadly scarce; hones in on a few distinguished cartoonists, allowing for in-depth analysis; for the most part, soundly makes and defends its many arguing points, and employs a rich mixture of secondary sources.

 

Graphic Novel Review: Harlem by Mikaël

 

 reviewed by Matthew Teutsch, Associate Professor of English, Piedmont University

Mikaël. Harlem. New York: NBM Graphic Novels, 2024. https://nbmpub.com/products/harlem

 

French-Canadian artist Mikaël concludes his New York triptych with Harlem, a fictionalized narrative about Stephanie St. Clair, a woman from Guadalupe who became a businesswoman and racketeer in Harlem during the early part of the twentieth century and the Harlem Renaissance. The narrative moves back and forth in time, detailing St. Clair’s life in Guadalupe to 1930s Harlem. When depicting St. Clair’s early life and eventual immigration to the United States, Mikaël’s color palette changes from more browns and darker colors to shades of purple with splashes of yellow. The yellow, which appears in various objects during these flashbacks from a parakeet to a bag to a light in a window, displays St. Clair’s hope and the hope of others for a better life, one where they can live their lives in happiness and safety.    

While on the surface Harlem appears to be a crime narrative centered on St. Clair, Mikaël infuses his story with much more. Mikaël highlights the ways that St. Clair and others navigate, through extra-legal means, a system that keeps them oppressed and subjugated from the highest levels of city government to the police force that walks the streets to other racketeers, notably Dutch Schultz (a white man), who also participates in extra-legal activities. Along with all of this, the community must deal with the ramifications of the Great Depression on their lives. Even as she maintains a hard exterior, St. Clair looks out for the community, providing individuals with hope and resistance, specifically through the pieces that she writes in the New York Amsterdam News calling out systemic oppression.

Ostensibly, the white reporter Robert Bishop serves as the overarching narrator of Harlem, opening the narrative by telling us, “What I did was unforgivable. I know.” By framing the narrative through Bishop, Mikaël allows us an outside view of events. The reader does move into St. Clair’s perspective and the perspectives of others, but Bishop remains the core, and in this manner, he serves, in many ways, like the “white clientele” who flock to Harlem for the clubs and nightlife that Harlem’s residents are barred from entry. Bishop has a relationship with Tillie Douglas, one of St. Clair’s friends, and their interactions highlight the ways that white supremacy did not solely reside within the Jim Crow South or the once colonial regions of the Americas. 

Bishop’s connection to St. Clair arises after the editor of the New York Amsterdam News tells her she needs to revise a piece that she hopes to get published in the paper. St. Clair sees Bishop with Douglas and enlists him to help her revise the piece, which he does. In her article, St. Clair lays out what she and the community endure in the face of white supremacy. Over three pages, Mikaël prints St. Clair’s article interspersed with images of individuals getting kicked out of their homes, police brutality, and cultural tourism with whites descending on Harlem for clubs. The sequence ends with the reactions to her piece from Schultz, the police, and her right-hand-man Bumpy. Thematically, this three-page sequence sums up Harlem and the ways that St. Clair pushed back against a system that seeks to keep her and other locked in cages as they bloody their wings against the iron bars.

In “Sympathy,” Paul Laurence Dunbar uses the metaphor of a caged bird beating its wings until “its blood is red on the cruel bars” to describe his position as a Black man at the turn of the twentieth century in America. He concludes the poem with the famous line, “I know why the caged bird sings!” The caged bird metaphor appears throughout Harlem, from St. Clair releasing a bird from a cage in Model’s shop to numerous panels depicting birds flying as St. Clair and others walk the Harlem streets. Harlem concludes with St. Clair returning to the community as residents thank her for speaking in front of the commission and her actions, and the final two panels show birds flying freely in the sky. The first shows birds flying up into the air as we see buildings and a street sign for 125^th street. The final panel zooms out, showing the entire New York skyline with flocks of birds in the distance, symbolizing St. Clair’s and the residents’ desire to, as St. Clair tells W.E.B. Du Bois earlier, that she will not “shut [herself] between four walls.”  

If one reads Harlem quickly, one will miss many of the historical and cultural references that Mikaël incorporates throughout the book. For example, in a seven-panel sequence following a numbers runner, we see the marquee for Smalls Paradise, one of the only African-American owned clubs in Harlem at the time, and a panel depicting young kids marching with brooms and paper hats imitating the Harlem Hellfighters as a World War I veteran sits on the side. Mikaël also incorporates two poems by Langston Hughes, one at the end of each section. Hughes’ “Harlem” concludes section one, and Hughes’ repetition, in the first and third stanzas of referring to Harlem as “on the edge of hell” drives home what St. Clair fights against. Juxtaposed against “Harlem,” Mikaël ends the book with Hughes’ “I, Too,” where Hughes proclaims his equality and finishes by stating, “I, too, am America.”

Mikaël ‘s Harlem details the history of white supremacy in the United States, colonialism, sexism, and structural issues that impact Harlem and its citizens. It also highlights community and the ideals of America, specifically the immigrant experience and the ways that communities work together to confront oppression and move forward. Through Bishop, Mikaël explores allyship and the need for white individuals like Bishop to listen instead of speaking at times. Bishop gets St. Clair arrested, and as she leaves prison, we see Bishop’s words to her as he types them. He tells her when he envisions her in his mind he sees “[a] look of anger. The anger of an entire people,” and he concludes by telling her, “I only wanted to speak out about the world around me because I thought I had the right to.” Bishop’s words end, allowing St. Clair a voice for herself at the end, a voice that speaks for Harlem.     

 A version of this review will appear in IJOCA 27-2  

Piedmont University

Graphic Novel Review: Godzilla Library Collection Vol. 4

 reviewed by Cord A. Scott, UMGC-Okinawa

Chris Howry (w), Matt Frank (a), and Jeff Zornow (a). Godzilla Library Collection Vol. 4. Sherman Oaks, CA:  IDW Publishing, 2025. 280 pp. US $29.99. ISBN:  979-8-8872-4265-1. https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/770074/godzilla-library-collection-vol-4-by-chris-mowry-matt-frank-jeff-zornow/

Godzilla is one of the most internationally recognized characters in popular culture today. Over the course of more than 40 films, countless toys, cartoons, and a variety of media, the character and the franchise show no signs of waning. To that end, it is a natural extension of the character to be in comic book form. As is noted, Volume Four of the Godzilla Library Collection is a collection of issues 1-12 of Godzilla:  Rulers of the Earth. As to whether this collection is to be read in succession with the other volumes is unclear, but as with any Kaiju series, there is a lot of action to absorb from reading the volume.

This series starts from multiple vantage points. The first is from the USS Wimbish, a U.S. submarine tracking an unknown kaiju. While it gives the appearance of Godzilla, it seemingly becomes a new kaiju, dubbed Zilla. Without any idea of how this new monster will act, it is tasked with tracking the monster in the water. The second vantage point is on the concept of Megazoology in Hawaii. One participant, Lucy Casprell, has hopes of joining a research team led by Dr. Kenji Ando. All of this culminates with the appearance and destruction of Honolulu by Godzilla. The last vantage point is that of Steven Woods, the hardnosed soldier tasked with the hunting of kaiju, and who has a grudge after several from his team were killed.

From this point, much of the volume centers on what we have come to expect from Godzilla films and comics:  kaiju fights and a lot of general destruction. We are introduced to many from the Godzilla gallery through the fights. In fact, some of the monsters are introduced so quickly, that it becomes difficult to follow them all in the book. The story also involves two alien races, the Devonians (a sea race) and the Travelers (a shapeshifting race) fighting over the Earth as an eventual home. To this end, they both use the kaiju to wipe out the human race or, at minimum, substantially cull the race.

Some of the kaiju become more prevalent than others. The two humanoids, Manda and Giara, are used in the story arc as a part of weapons (or in this case, kaijus) of mass destruction program (112). China becomes a part of the arc when they note that they have one of the kaiju contained and have kept him as a contingency.

Throughout the series, the regular characters, within the pantheon of kaiju, are brought in:  Gigan, Orga, Mechagodzilla, Mothra, Rodan, Manda, Varan, and Destroyah, to name, but some. The counter to some of these kaiju is the use of robotics, and this necessitates the introduction of another movie character and ally of Godzilla, Jet Jaguar. The readers are treated to Jet’s backstory as well.

By the end of the book, the battle of the titans has left the world damaged, some kaiju back under control or in containment, and scientists looking to study their new subjects for weaknesses.  In this regard, the series is similar to two Showa era Godzilla movies, “Destroy All Monsters” (1968) and “All Monsters Attack” (1969).

The volume shifts back to the intergalactic war on Earth, as the Devonians are revealed to be shape shifters, who have, in fact, utilized the kaiju and humans to eliminate their alien enemy, and humanity. In all, the series is left on a cliff-hanger as the war has escalated, and the Travelers seem to have the upper hand.

The volume has all the hallmarks of Godzilla media:  massive fights, massive destruction, and a storyline that fills the gaps. One problem that does occur is that the monsters are brought in so quickly, and not always with “introductions,” to the extent that it gets confusing. If one has not memorized the catalogue of monsters, it can be overwhelming. Additionally, the characters seem a bit one dimensional. This issue might not be as problematic if one was reading all the volumes, but if a reader just looks at this volume, it may give the characters a limited emotional connection to their plight.

There are also some nods to the movies. Mothra is brought in as a character, as are the twins, who serve as a conduit for communications with humans. Not all the monsters from the entire series are used, either. These characters might be introduced in a later volume.

In all, it is what one has come to expect of Godzilla stories:  action, some interaction between people and monsters, misconceptions and biases towards other races or species, and even commentary on how some groups might be used as unwitting pawns in a wider war. For those who grew up with the movies, or were introduced to Godzilla later, it is still a form of simple fun. It is just missing a rubber suit and model cities to destroy.

 A version of this review will appear in IJOCA 27-1