Justin Gardiner. Small Altars.
North Adams: Tupelo Press, 2024. US$22. https://press.uchicago.edu/ucp/books/book/distributed/S/bo221357365.html
Small
Altars is an extended eulogy to
Gardiner’s brother Aaron, who died of synovial sarcoma in 2019. The literary
press publisher marketed it as linked to the world of comic books, blurbing it
with “In Small Altars, Justin Gardiner delves into the world of comic
books and superheroes as a means for coming to terms with the many struggles of
his brother’s life, as well as his untimely death, offering a lyric and honest
portrayal of the tolls of mental illness, the redemptive powers of art and
familial love, and the complex workings of grief.” Aaron “was born with a
borderline learning disability” and schizoaffective disorder. The book describes
the time Gardiner spent with Aaron during their childhood, growing apart as
they aged, then returning to his brother’s side as an occasional caregiver. Threaded
throughout are reflections on the activities and fandoms Aaron enjoyed - sci fi
novels, Star Wars movies, piano music, Marvel comics and the Cinematic
Universe, board and tabletop role-playing games.
However, Gardiner remains aloof and dismissive of the hobbies that his brother enjoyed, viewing poetry as a more “evolved” literary form, more worthy of adult and scholarly attention. Comics and their related franchises are “predictable” and “claustrophobic.” The Gardiner brothers may have watched the Marvel Cinematic Universe unfold side by side, but it is clear that Justin did not probe deeply into what held Aaron’s attention within their stories. Instead, he is perpetually pathologizing his brother, and even random strangers around him, putting forth many suppositions but demonstrating only surface level research into his wayward diagnoses. A love of comics is an escapist route back to childhood, according to Justin- the only time his brother’s behaviors met society's expectations and the only time Justin was not bored, tired, embarrassed, embittered by being associated with his brother. Gardiner veers away from any attempts to more deeply and empathetically understand his brother’s enjoyment of the mediums in favor of describing his own feelings and how uncomfortable he was interacting with his brother. Panel gutters are a looming space where Gardiner is unwilling to venture forth and examine with any kind of serious contemplation.
His brother’s lifelong efforts at playing the piano is similarly deemed a waste of time because Aaron “never composed his own songs or made any money off of it.” Gardiner briefly describes what Aaron did make money off of- working as a janitor for the Pearl Buck Center, a preschool for students with cognitive disabilities and where many of Aaron’s coworkers also had mental health or cognitive disabilities. "I knew full well how important Pearl Buck was to my brother, yet I avoided any direct contact with it..." While those feelings are valid and probably relatable to many people who don't have disabilities, this work does nothing to change people's expectations or behaviors in a way that uplifts the people who share Aaron’s experiences.
Ultimately, this title illuminates a gap in literature for thoughtful investigations into the role fandoms play for adults with cognitive impairments and mental disabilities. The topic is well worth investigating but readers would be better off directing their attention towards more empathetic and well-researched titles, such as The THUD (Mikael Ross and Nika Knight (trans.). Seattle: Fantagraphics, 2001)
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