Romance and Magical Realism in Graphic Literature, part 2

Continued

II – In Defense of the Medium

A question arises, obvious to many who have studied finer literatures than the text examined here: “Why should I care what happens in a Graphic Novel?”  This is a fair question, but only in its broader sense.  Every analysis of a literary work must by necessity begin with the question, “Why is this interesting?”  Most works speak for themselves in regards to this question.  Most readers do not stop to reflect on the value in analyzing most literature, due in great part to our culture’s evaluation of the written word.   History and science, for example, did not advance much during the Middle Ages because scholars merely accepted the writings of their ancestors as knowledge.  The thought process resembled, “Aristotle had written this down, and Aristotle is a father of thinking, thus this written word is unequivocally the truth.”

Falling back on such thinking is both lazy and detrimental to a greater understanding of the surrounding world.  On the other hand, very few of us can be expected to blaze completely new trails on our own.  In this vein, I myself fall back upon other examples of praised and analyzed Graphic Literature, as well as the work of acclaimed critics, such as Fedwa Malti-Douglas.  The popularity, reception, and criticism of such works as Art Spiegelman’s Maus: A Survivor’s Tale, Michael Chabon’s The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, or the much-acclaimed Watchmen  by Alan Moore proves that value exists in the genre.  Even the negative mention of these works and this genre proves that a conversation exists to be held.  For example, when Lydia Millet of The Wall Street Journal claims, “it’s simply bizarre to assert that, as an illustrated literary narrative, it rivals in artistic merit, say, masterpieces like Chris Ware’s ‘Acme Novelty Library’ or almost any part of the witty and brilliant work of Edward Gorey,”  the very necessity she felt in making that statement calls its inalienable veracity into question.

Northrop Frye makes a strong case against excluding literatures from the realm of acceptability in his discussion of myth versus fable in The Secular Scripture.  He describes literature in the terms of classical Greek critics, who categorized words as true, false, or plasmatic (presenting things as they conceivably could be).  This value judgment, he continues, begets a constructed binary: literature is either Serious or Frivolous.

“For the literary critic, at all events, everything in words is plasmatic, and truth and falsehood represent the directions or tendencies in which verbal structures go, or are thought to go… [W]hat is accepted as serious or dismissed as trifling may vary from one age to another, depending on currents of fashion or cultural attitudes operating for the most part outside of literature.”

To be sure, graphic literature has sat under the heading of Frivolous Literature since the early days of the industry; however, as Frye points out, mobility between these categories is possible because those categories are based on perception.  I reiterate, where graphic literature has traditionally been directed at a younger audience, the target demographic has aged over the last twenty years.  When the audience becomes younger adults, rather than children or youths, the subject matter and writing style must be tailored differently, i.e. more “seriously.”

And so, I am throwing my hat into the ring with this analysis.  I contest that the genre is worth examining.  This is not meant to be an all-inclusive statement, though.  I do not claim that every individual title is worth examining.  I don’t expect to find much in an issue of Scrooge McDuck (though you never know).  However, I do believe that a larger portion of published Graphic Literature can be found worthy of critique now, in the early part of the 21st Century.  Thus, I follow this rule of thumb: If a work provokes thought, regardless of the genre or format of that work, then it is worth analysis.