The Art of the Graphic Novel

Upon receiving my (extremely large) box of books from amazon.com, I was filled with the excitement that only a true book nerd can understand. I rapidly opened the box and pulled book after book out, anxiously awaiting the day when I could say I had finished them all. One of the books, though, struck me by surprise. The title was Maus, and the cover, flaunting a gigantic swastika, demanded attention. I opened the crisp new pages and was shocked at what I saw- this was no ordinary novel. I will admit that before reading this graphic novel (my first one ever) I was extremely hesitant. How on Earth was I supposed to take a glorified comic book seriously? Within one chapter, Art Spiegelman had changed my mind on the graphic novel forever.

When telling a story as historically significant as the holocaust, I believe it is easy for a writer to fall into the mundane pattern of explaining it by means of a step-by-step process. This makes the story seem redundant, and the holocaust is anything but. By using the graphic novel as a way to tell his father's story, Speigelman captures the reader's attention in a way that can not be done by any other means of story-telling. The pairing of the panels and text do more than even a movie could, because the spaces between the panels force the reader to draw their own conclusions. In doing so, it is possible to make something as impersonal as the holocaust is to a  22 year old American girl just that- extremely personal and moving.

The series of panels on the bottom of page 83 (in the full version) show Vladek, the author's father, biking on a stationary bike as he tells the story of his first son's death during the holocaust. These panels are extremely haunting once analyzed by the reader, because of what they represent. While it appears that Vladek is merely riding a stationary bike, this represents the much bigger issue of the way the Jews felt during the entirety of the holocaust- stuck in one place with no way to get out. As Vladek's story progresses, he pedals harder and harder, as if he is trying to gain momentum and get somewhere, but in the end he is still on a bike that refuses to move, and the last panel reflects that feeling of failure. Another series of panels that shows increasing emotion is on page 111. We see Tosha, a woman who was supposed to be looking after Vladek's son as well as here own, facing the fact that they would all soon be sent to Auschwitz. Upon finding out the horrible news, she immediately makes a decision to poison herself as well as the children. The series of panels that in the middle of the page shows her anger towards the German Nazi's progress as it zooms closer and closer in on her face. Her face begins to furrow in anger and sweat rolls down her forehead. These panels make the reader become personally attached to Tosha's situation in a way that a mere novel could not.

Page 127 contains perhaps my favorite panel of the entire graphic novel. It shows Vladek and Sonja walking straight into a swastika. Speigelman used this panel as a means of foreshadowing, while letting the reader know something that the characters at this point do not- they are walking right into danger. The caption "Anja and I didn't have where to go," shows the pure helplessness of Vladek, as well as all of the Jewish population at this time. While reading over this portion of the book, I couldn't help but feel like a viewer of a horror movie; I kept wanting to shout "turn around!" "go back!", but just as in the movies, it would do the characters no good.

Perhaps the most horrifying panel in Maus appears on page 232. Vladek is explaining the gas chambers and ovens, and the readers are greeted with an image of mice engulfed in flames, throwing their heads back in anguish. It looks like a scene straight out of hell. There is no caption necessary- we all know the sound they are making. This is the beauty of the graphic novel; while it may not contain as many literary clues as a typical novel would, it gives the reader the freedom to fill in the gaps, making it that much more memorable and personal.

The Tools of Literacy

Literacy, as defined in lecture, is "the ability to read and discern meaning using communicative tools." In Under the Feet of Jesus, Estrella begins the story as an illiterate child who struggles with the frustration of learning a new skill. Instead of merely explaining the process of learning to read, Viramontes uses a metaphor comparing gaining literacy to a toolbox. In doing so, she explores the frustration that comes with being "locked out" of a whole other world of literature, and the foreign nature of language before one learns to conquer it.

Upon seeing the toolbox for the first time, Estrella "became very angry" (pg. 24). She approached the box, opened it, and found numerous tools she had no idea how to use. To Estrella, the tools "seemed as confusing and foreign as the alphabet she could not decipher" (pg. 24). Much like many children who have yet to learn to read, the idea of not being included on such a major part of our world frustrated Estrella immensely. In fact, "Estrella hated when things were kept from her," (pg. 24) concerning both her literacy and her knowledge of the tools in the toolbox.

Once Estrella gains access to the inside of the toolbox, she pieces through the tools with the same frustration, and Viramontes continues her metaphor. To Estrella, "the script A's [of the alphabet] had the curlicue of a pry bar, a hammerhead split like a V" (pg. 24). "The curves and tails of the tools made no sense and the shapes were as foreign and meaningless to her as chalky lines on the blackboard" (pg. 25). This shows that she saw both entities as foreign, but she is trying to work out their significance.

A Cinderella Story

Kurt Vonnegut's use of the Cinderella story in his Slaughterhouse V reveals much of what he thinks about literature: that while a story may be great, it is easy to replicate, and eternal happiness is unrealistic.

Vonnegut introduces us to the idea of Cinderella on page 96, while the men have just arrived at the British officer's "banquet hall." We learn that that night the British will be putting on a show, their own "musical version of Cinderella" (pg 96) for the Americans. After experiencing the horrific events that he did, the first thing Billy wants to do when he arrives at the camp is "call his mother, to tell her he [is] alive and well" (pg. 97), but he can't. This is a direct reflection of Cinderella; she is placed in a less than ideal situation and the reason for it is that she no longer has access to her mother.

Next, the Englishmen see Billy and immediately start to pick over his appearance and state of being. They say remarks such as "Is that coat a joke?" and "Where did you get such a thing?" (pg. 97). In doing so, the Englishmen are replicating Cinderella's Fairy Godmother in the scene in which she appears to her in the garden, becomes very distressed at her appearance, and decides to do something in her favor. Much like the Fairy Godmother, the Englishmen don't stop at the remarks. They go on to feed, clothe, and entertain Billy, becoming his very own Fairy Godmothers.

When the play reaches the scene in which Cinderella proclaims:

"Goodness me, the clock has struck--
Alackday, and f*ck my luck" (pg. 98).

Billy "shrieked" and has to be carried into the hospital. Billy's reaction to the clock striking twelve is much like Cinderella's in that his luck runs out and he plummets back into a negative situation.

Vonnegut throws us a curveball, though, in that he doesn't finish Billy's Cinderella story the same way the original author had so many years ago. Instead, when Billy finds his version of the glass slippers, "the boots fit perfectly" (pg. 145), but do nothing to change the course of the story. I believe this is Vonnegut's way of acknowledging the fact that Cinderella is a classic, while simultaneously saying that a story doesn't have to have a happy ending for it to be entertaining.