So, that Super! Secret! Project! thing isn't so secret anymore. Kevin Church, Chris Tamarri and I are going to try to do an irregular, interview-centric blog called Graphic Language. Chris did the launch interview with Douglas Wolk, which goes into the whole writing-about-comics thing. I'm happy we're starting off with Wolk, because there's so much more to comics than storylines and events--I'm hoping that over the course of the next year, we'll talk to critics, publishers, retailers, and musicians connected to or invested in the medium and its fandom. Essentially, I want to think about the interviews themselves as the product. It may not be exciting in the same way as finding out tidbits of future plot points in favorite series, but I'm hoping there's an audience for what we're trying to do and, if not, it's been a fun thing to plan and work on. I think our goal is to try to have at least one interview up per week, but we'll see how that goes.

Back in December, I made an offhand comment in a comments thread here expressing that I'd "love to see a blog only devoted to interviews, but that'd be one heck of a time-consuming prospect," and Chris, go-getter that he is, suggested we start one. I thought he was crazy but, like Ice Cube, I'm down for whatever. Luckily, so was Kevin when we asked him to come along for the ride. Plus, while it sounds like a lot of work on paper, having three people doing a project together helps distribute the workload and ease the pressure. That's more than a little bit of a relief, because it'll make closing this place down a little easier. A lot has been happening in my personal life lately--next week, we close on our mortgage, and a few weeks ago, I found out that I got into graduate school. Between working full time, working on the house-related stuff and working for class, I won't have much time for blogging (not that I ever really blogged "full time" anyway). So, like Graeme, I think I'm going to call this one a day come the two year anniversary in August. But, hey, if someone should need a guest blogger...

• Speaking of interviews, Bookforum has a short one up with Gary Groth that focuses on the 30th anniversary of Fantagraphics. I don't believe that's a permanent link, but I think it's good through the summer, at least.

• The MoCCA Art Festival is less than a month away. I've booked my room (once again, in Jersey City, because I am cheap), and there's a lot to look forward to even if the actual panel schedule isn't posted yet.

• While I can't make it, the Hotwire Comix & Capers release party at Rocketship this Friday sounds like a blast.

• Reviews are on the way for The Lost Colony, Noble Boy, Entanglement and some other things, along with a look at what I'm looking forward to at MoCCA.

Review: DEOGRATIAS

DEOGRATIAS
by J.P. STASSEN
translated by Alexis Siegel
96 pages Full Color
ISBN: 1-59643-103-2
US $16.95 / CANADA $22.95
First Second

J. P. Stassen's Deogratias is a fictional account of the personal impact the Rwandan genocide had on those affected by it, Rwandans and foreigners alike. The story is horrific, captivating, and important--it sheds light on a foreign conflict that isn't discussed as often as other issues abroad, one that many might not know much about.

Fortunately, Alexis Siegel's introduction to the book helps catch readers up on the real-world events that inform the setting; I imagine that, for some readers, this may be the most they've ever read on the Rwandan genocide--that's how it was for me. While I've heard news reports on NPR on the subject throughout the years, Siegel's introduction provided some much appreciated historical context beyond what I knew going in.

If Siegel's introduction provides the broad strokes and the facts of the Rwandan genocide, Stassen provides the personal element that puts faces on it--he gives the emotional context. There may never have been a Deogratias or an Apollinara, but Stassen fleshes the characters out so well that the line between history and fiction blurs a little, and the formal aspects of the book heighten that. One thing I've noticed in some comics from Europe is that the word balloons tend to have sharper edges than in some American comics; while that's more of a trend there, in Deogratias it may help foster that verisimilitude in American readers--the dialogue reads as if it were captioned, which gives the book a touch of a documentary feel. The characters help give that impression as well. Stassen provides an ensemble cast of characters, none of whom can be easily distilled into simple archetypes--while the focal characters act heroically or villainous at certain times, Stassen doesn't make any fit heroic or villainous roles--they're just people thrust into a horrifying situations, and they act like one would expect people to act in that environment.

While the formal aspects of Deogratias make the story feel real, its structure also acts as one of its best features--it's constructed very well in its narrative and rhythmic cadences. Stassen's use of flashback is exactly right for the story he's telling--the jumps between "this is where we are" and "this is where we have been" lets the thematic elements progress in a linear fashion even though the timeline doesn't, and gives the ending more of an emotional impact. There are no notes indicating the timeshifts in the storytelling; Stassen relies entirely on the character's visual portrayals to indicate when things are happening. Another visual aspect worth noting is Stassen's illustrations of Deogratias's subjective self-interpretation; his madness manifests as him turning into a dog, an image that works very well both in terms of artistry and as a way to show Deogratias madness through visual representation. Stassen also uses a repetitive panel of the Rwandan sky with an area of empty white space beneath it as punctuation and a refrain, which keeps the pace of the book on tempo--it's highly formalized, but in a very organic way.

Like all the First Second books that I have seen, Deogratias is a very well-designed book. In a way, their line realizes the potential of the space where comics publishing and traditional book publishing meet. The cover takes the recurring starry night panel from the book, and adds a foreground image of a cowering Deogratias, whose body language suggests his canine self-image. He and the rest of the foreground are printed more glossy than the background, which provides even more contrast, and the effect of dark-on-dark tones makes his reddish eyes more pronounced. Really, what's most striking is how dark the whole cover is--at first, or on a casual glance, the whole cover looks muddled and dark, but just as it takes a moment for eyes to adjust in a dark room, it takes a moment to adjust to the cover to see that there is a lot of detail in what initially looks like shadow.

Deogratias isn't a comfortable book. If there's comfort food (the kind that sticks to the ribs and fills the body with warmth), there's comfort reading. And if there's comfort reading, then this book might be considered discomfort reading--it sticks to the ribs, sure, and it satisfies, but it provokes contemplative uneasiness and demands that the reader takes his or her time to digest everything. While Deogratias might not be a comfortable, lazy Sunday book, it is satisfying because it is emotionally resonant without being emotionally manipulative. It won't tell the reader what to feel, but it should provoke an honest reaction. It's a book worth sharing with readers of all kinds: NPR junkies, people who appreciate the craft of comics creation, and people that want to read works that not only provoke contemplation, but demand it.