Book Journeys: Freddy Lombard

For as long as I can remember I have the loved the ligne claire comic genre or, at least, certainly loved it a lot longer than I have known the term 'ligne claire'. Like a lot of other youngsters in the 20th century my love was primarily fixated on Herge's immortal Tintin comics. The term 'ligne claire' translates to 'clear line' and refers to the un-shaded style of illustrating comics that was invented by Herge. As such, it's a genre defined by look more than anything else, though the popularity of the Tintin comics has infused the genre with other conventions related to storytelling, characterisation, setting, common motifs, etc.  

As I've grown older (and matured like the dried-out husk of a cactus that refuses to die) I've sought out other comics in this style - Yoko Tsuno, Julian Chancer, Blake and Mortimer. Each of these have their own charms but, truth be told, none holds a candle to Herge's ageless and intrepid reporter. There is, however, a series called Freddy Lombard that has accolades of its own. I'd always seen the cover of the single-volume Freddy Lombard collection and been put off by the protagonist's Tintin-esque look. I mean, he just looks like a shameless imitation. Eventually though, propelled by the many favourable reviews this series attracts, I caved and checked it out.

Freddy Lombard is perhaps the closest thing to Tintin's equal within the ligne claire genre. Although, in saying that, I do both texts a disservice as their similarities are purely superficial.
 
There are five volumes of adventures for Freddy Lombard and his friends Dina and Sweep and the tragedy is that there will never be any more, owing to the untimely death of author/illustrator Yves Chaland in a car accident at the age of 33. Written in the 1980s, the Freddy Lombard series starts in goof-ish, good-natured fashion before maturing exponentially with each subsequent volume. The content of the later volumes decidedly break from the child-friendly realm of Tintin with content increasingly adult in nature; sophisticated storytelling that hinges on the psychological, the political, and even the disturbing.

There's something cinematic about the way Chaland stages the elements within each frame. The top extreme wide shot displays a character on the far right in miniscule (denoting his vulnerability to the open sky outside) as a sliver of light cracks across the cargo hold of the plane, then - frame by frame - the light washes over him and he moves up into the centre of the frame to meet it, conveying the moment that his mind seems to snap in the face of danger.

A quick overview of the stories within the collection:

The Will of Godfrey of Bouillon (First published in 1981, when Chaland was 24)

The most 'throwaway' of Freddy Lombard's adventures and not the best introduction to the series. Freddy and his friends, seemingly a trio of travelling hobos, assist a rich alcoholic in trying to locate a treasure in a medieval castle. The treasure-search is actually a framing device and most of this comic focuses on a comedic dream sequence where Freddy imagines himself back in the middle ages. 

An African Adventure (Released in 1984, when Chaland was 27)

The gang travel to Africa to hunt for a unique photographic plate on behalf of a collector. Chaland, whilst unfortunately leaning on visual stereotypes for the African characters, explores and deconstructs certain themes tied to colonialism. In this tale the reader is shown where Freddy and his friends live, a run-down building in 1930s Paris where they must huddle-together against the elements and are constantly on the lookout for either food or money. 

The Elephant's Graveyard (Released alongside 'An African Adventure' in the same volume in 1984)

Another African-themed adventure that explores the ramifications of colonialism for the coloniser and, despite taking a humourous approach to a murder mystery, finishes with a surprisingly poignant and affecting resolution. 

The Comet of Carthage (Published in 1986, when Chaland was 29)

This marks the point where the series takes on a more mature tone, with Freddy and his peers moonlighting by the Mediterranean where Freddy has become obsessed with saving a beautiful Tunisian muse from the artist who paints her. A more meditative and 'adult' piece, calling to mind the sort of European sensibility more often found in Italian New Wave cinema.

Holiday in Budapest (Published in 1988, when Chaland was 31)

Set in the Hungarian Revolution of 1956, Freddy and his chums find themselves dramatically caught up in events as the country rapidly descends into destruction and potential collapse. Chaland does something quite deft in plotting a character-based quest within such a turbulent historical event, managing to convey a sense of apocalyptic doom, national hope, the Soviet mindset, and outright chaos.

F.52 (Published in 1990, when Chaland was 33)

The crowning glory and true gem of the collection, F.52 sees Freddy, Dina and Sweep working as cabin crew on the first atomic-powered flight from Paris to Melbourne. Claustrophobic and meticulously-plotted, F.52 presents a Hitchcock-esque web of increasingly tangled subplots and builds to a tense denouement that borders on the surreal. 

And then that's it, there's no more. Once I got to the end of this collection I felt a profound sense of sadness for the tragedy of Chaland's early death and the Freddy Lombard stories that were never written. I know I will be revisiting these stories from time to time; they're that special. I guess the bittersweet silver-lining here is that Chaland's genius lives on in this handful of adventures that he left behind.

Reading Roll: Late 2017/Early 2018

My last Reading Roll was back in March last year but, the thing is... I never stopped reading! I just stopped posting reviews because I switched to reading the texts on the new HSC NSW English Prescriptions List, and have been talking about them in the context of their appropriateness to the new English syllabuses here, here, here, here and here. Every now and again I make a little time to read some non-Prescribed texts and below are some of these non-Prescriptions, most of which were graphic novels. Some of these I read just for fun but would still be good for classroom use.

Hot Dog Taste Test by Lisa Hanawalt

Hanawalt is probably best known for her work on the TV series Bojack Horseman. This graphic novel is less a novel and more a collection of comic vignettes exploring absurdist tangents and autobiographical snippets of Hanawalt's life (mostly in regards to food). The author's hilariously askew sense-of-humour had me laughing out-loud a lot, and it took me absolutely no time at all to read from cover to cover.

The Imposter's Daughter by Laurie Sandell

Joining the hallowed annals of graphic novel memoirs is no mean feat but I would easily put Sandell's story alongside other personal accounts such as Craig Thompson's Blankets and Alison Bechdel's Fun Home. Sandell is probably best known for her work as a journalist and editor for magazines such as Glamour, Marie Claire, Esquire, GQ, etc., however, in this frank and sometimes unbelievable memoir she weaves together an arresting narrative of finding her feet in writing and gradually discovering her father's uncanny (and highly damaging) gift for con-artistry.

Big History by DK

Have you ever looked at the subject of history and wondered, "Where's all the stuff that happened before humans came along?" Well, if so, then Big History is the coffee table book for you. This vibrant, illustrated DK guide to David Christian's groundbreaking combination of history and science helps to make clear the recurring patterns that unify all of history as we know it. A hugely informative book.

Wilson by Daniel Clowes

This graphic novel is a disarmingly brisk jaunt through the life of the titular misanthrope, a curmudgeonly loner who insists on voicing his criticisms in just about every situation. What's perhaps most interesting about Wilson is its structure, with Clowes depicting his protagonist's life in a serialised form over the course of single-page strips (like the sort of comic strips you'd see in newspapers) despite the whole thing having been constructed as a graphic novel. This means that we get these snapshots of Wilson's life, condensing a much larger narrative into 70 single strips that each end in a twisted take on the stereotypical gags associated with Sunday morning newspaper cartoons.

Night Air and Volcano Trash by Ben Sears

My only criticism of Sears' fantasy/sci-fi series is that each volume flies by so quickly that you're left wishing you didn't have to wait so long until the next installment of Plus Man's exhilarating adventures with his robotic sidekick Hank. Think Adventure Time mixed with the buoyant, minimalist artwork of Tintin. Great for all ages!

Last Look by Charles Burns

Charles Burns is probably best known for his creepy, psychedelic graphic novel Black Hole. The volume Last Look brings together his most recent trilogy of graphic novels, and complexly weaves together two narratives that dance around themes of psychosis, anxiety, and guilt. Burns is a master of symbolism and the bizarrely disturbing, and all I'll say is that if you read this you'll need to commit to the whole thing - everything in this narrative is perfectly intentional, no matter how weird it might seem, and the ending will make you look at the whole thing in a new light.

Some Comics by Stephen Collins

I was drawn to this collection of single strips after reading Collins' brilliantly absurd The Gigantic Beard That Was Evil. Unlike the aforementioned graphic novel, these single-page comics are much more comedy-oriented. I appreciated Collins' twisted sense of humour though and eagerly await whatever he does next!

Transmetropolitan by Warren Ellis

I'm about 6 or so volumes into this '90s cyberpunk series that, sadly, still feels blisteringly relevant in its satirical subversion of politics, society, and all things 'modern'. The protagonist, Spider Jerusalem, is one of the great non-superpowered anti-heroes of comics, and his invective-laden rants against the grimy futuristic dystopia he lives in are sharp enough to cut steel.

Comfort Food by Ellen Van Neervan

I grabbed Van Neervan's poetry volume after all the controversy that came out of her poem Mango being included in last year's HSC. Her work is sparse, thoughtful, intense, sensory, personal... I really enjoyed the wide range of verse and all I'll say in regards to the controversy is that it was unfounded, the Mango poem did its job in provoking such a diversity in responses. I hope Van Neervan has many more volumes of poetry to come.

Tranny by Laura Jane Grace

I'm a huge Against Me! fan, even if I do actually prefer the more polished and anthemic later stuff over their raw, folk-punk beginnings. In this brutally honest memoir, Laura Jane Grace combines her diary entries with a more straightforward narrative to describe her journey of discovery in relation to identity and gender. There aren't many transsexual music icons with as high a profile as Grace, which makes this autobiography a must-read for both punk-rock fans and those interested in gender politics and LGBT issues. It helps that Grace holds nothing back when discussing her family, friends, bandmates, music, etc., and it makes for a very entertaining and visceral read.

Dracula by Bram Stoker

I read this in preparation for teaching Year 11 Extension English 1 this year. I'd never read it before so I wasn't sure how it would go, but I actually liked it a lot. I'm coming around to accepting the disjointed nature of a lot of Victorian-era novels (it was always something I struggled a lot with in my younger days), and the opening five chapters of Dracula are probably my favourite part of Stoker's seminal vampire tale. I have no doubt that this because they're the most representative of how people commonly think of the Count and his predatory behaviour. The rest of the novel has elements worth reading too but, as I mentioned, it can feel disjointed at times. The biggest point of interest for me was how unromanticised Stoker's portrayal of Count Dracula is - not at all like the many iterations of vampires we've seen since.  

The Analects by Confucius

I came across a statistic somewhere that claimed Confucius's Analects is the most read text of all time. I'm not sure if it's true or not but - considering China's long history, population, and influence on the world - it sounds legit, and that's why I thought I should read it. As a work of philosophy, I found it best digested over a few months, a couple of quotes at a time. As a 2500 year old text the context sometimes made it a little difficult to translate some parts (even when written in English), but I still found many quotes to be applicable to the modern day. I guess there's a reason why the wisdom of Confucius endures. 

Dark Emu by Bruce Pascoe

This groundbreaking history book couldn't be more relevant to Australian society at this point in time. Pascoe has done something truly astonishing in bringing together extensive research, documentation, testimony, and first-hand experience to reconstruct Australia's pre-European past and thus deconstruct a lot of the myths surrounding what Aboriginal society looked like before Captain Cook's arrival. Pascoe not only makes an undeniable case for the idea of an Aboriginal 'civilisation', he also outlines the racist ideologies and methods that led to the erasure of this civilisation from white consciousness in the years since settlement. I found it both fascinating and enraging.

Lincoln in the Bardo by George Saunders

When I hear the words 'experimental novel' I tend to think I'll probably need to read it with a highlighter and a notepad, but Saunders' genre-defying historical fantasy bucks the trend and manages to be remarkably entertaining and heartfelt despite its structural idiosyncrasies. Told from the point of view of a collection of spirits 'stuck' between our world and the next, Lincoln in the Bardo mixes primary historical sources with outlandish speculation to capture the voices of America's 19th century. Easily worth the many awards it's won.

Rocannon's World by Ursula Le Guin

Le Guin's early science fiction novel is often overlooked in favour of her Earthsea Quartet or later sci-fi classics such as The Dispossessed and The Left Hand of Darkness. What makes Rocannon's World noteworthy is that it's the first entry in the 'Hainish Cycle' - eight science fiction novels (including the two mentioned above) that take place in the same fictional timeline/universe. Rocannon's World is a fairly brief concept-based novel that takes an anthropological look at human descendants living on an alien world, and uses some conceits related to the time distortions/differences that would arise in our theoretical exploration of space in the future. It's a neat sci-fi narrative but, as always, what makes Le Guin's work stand out is her knack for exploring the genre through a more post-modern perspective without leaving the reader behind.

Ready Player One by Ernest Cline

I wanted to see what all the hype was about and I think I'm lucky that I read this before I even realised it was becoming a film because the aggressively intertextual marketing campaign for Spielberg's movie would have turned me off altogether. Ready Player One isn't going to amaze any fans of award-winning literature nor will it prove intellectually stimulating to those who are normally attracted to sci-fi. What it does have going for it is a fun, geek-culture-heavy adventure that's easy to read and hard to put down. I enjoyed it, for the most part.

A Contract With God by Will Eisner

The name 'Eisner' has become synonymous with the graphic novel canon owing to this ground-breaking collection of longer-form comics. Eisner's use of the comic strip medium to explore dark, adult concepts was instrumental in the form's continuing development from superhero/comedy mainstay to a storytelling method that could be used to serve literature in a deeper fashion. A Contract with God remains highly arresting in its exploration of pain, loss, and displaced Jewish identity, and I found myself unable to tear away from each of the four thematically-linked stories - fascinated as much by the evidently heartfelt personal context and Eisner's seamless combination of word and image.

The Death of Stalin by Fabien Nury

It's easy to see why British satirist Armando Iannucci chose this one-shot graphic novel as the basis for his recent film of the same name. Inventively Machiavellian and as poisonous as any fatal snake bite, The Death of Stalin presents the true story of the Russian despot's demise and the political fallout that followed. In most hands this could have been a dry piece of historical retelling, but Nury zeroes in on the awful, the unbelievable, the rage-inducing, and the downright ridiculous to portray the final days of a bloodthirsty tyrant and the serpentine beginnings of the Cold War.

Sad Topographies by Damien Rudd

I'm a sucker for a quirky coffee table book. I saw this one in a Newtown bookstore and was immediately taken with its subject matter. Originating as an Instagram account, Rudd explores a series of depressingly named locations around the world with thoughtful essays on associated errata, etymological digressions, and miscellany. Places featured include Nothing, World's End, Isle of the Dead, Disappointment Island, and Port Famine.

Moonhead and the Music Machine

This graphic novel about the power of music, teenage misfitism, and what it's like to literally have a moon for a head is just the right mix of angst, comedy, and fantasy. I really enjoyed Joey Moonhead's journey towards acceptance and identity. His absurd friendships with other teenagers on the outskirts of the archetypal American high school are hilarious and visually arresting. A true gem.

The Finder Library Volume 1 by Carla Speed McNeil

Pulling together a diverse array of influences to mix together Indigenous narratives, comic styles related to Manga and online serials, and post-apocalyptic sci-fi, The Finder Library is a unique and genre-defying exercise in exotic world-building. McNeil ties together the narrative of Jaeger, a drifter with troubled origins, and the domestically-strained mixed-race family of Emma Lockhart and Brigham Grosvener. To give you an idea of the scope of this impressive series, McNeil's vision of the distant future explores the interrelation of racial identity and social standing, biological vs. culturally-constructed notions of gender, media consumption, and the impact of violence on the individual.

The Moon is a Harsh Mistress by Robert A. Heinlein

I've half-read a Heinlein before and couldn't finish it, so it was with some trepidation that I gave this one a shot. The Moon is a Harsh Mistress was enjoyable but also not without its issues. Told through the cynical eyes of one-armed computer technician Mannie, a 'loonie' (citizen of the Moon), The Moon is a Harsh Mistress relates the imagined revolution of Earth's lunar colony - paralleling the Bolshevism of 1920s Russia, nightmare scenarios of over-population and diminishing resources, and the 'free love' movement of the 1960s. The protagonist Mannie is thankfully the least annoying character in the novel, however, there is also a lot of political subplotting that doesn't really go anywhere quick enough, and the supporting characters veer between completely forgettable and incredibly irritating. That said, Heinlein's depiction of a lunar colony has some fairly interesting dimensions, and I enjoyed the way it plays into the counter-culture of Heinlein's era. Notable for its invention of the phrase 'There's no such thing as a free lunch!"

Differentiation: Using Assessment for Learning

Batman: definitely a fan of education

I often find myself coming back to the concept of Day One.

Day One can be the point where you first meet a class, or the point where you decide to start again with a class you already know. Day One is a beautiful thing because it allows you to essentially reboot; you can reboot your expectations, reboot your teaching methods, reboot the resources you use, and even reboot your opinion of the students. Day One can be therapeutic, for both the teacher and the students. Don't we all deserve a new Day One sometimes?

Day One is a time for trying new things. It doesn't matter if it all goes horribly exercise-book-ripped-in-half wrong because when you get to the end of Day One you get to make a decision: is tomorrow Day Two or will you forget and try again with another Day One?

Day Twos are good when they build on something that's worked, and it's important to remember that even the lessons we perceive as 'failures' are still useful lessons in what does and doesn't work, but if a Day One doesn't completely pan out then it's inevitably best to give everyone (yourself included) a second chance. An potentially essential part of an effective Day One is collecting data on your students to assist with their instruction in the days to come and I guess this post, in essence, is about allowing ourselves as teachers to evaluate students from scratch at multiple points throughout the year.

If, like me, you're teaching in a context where the majority of the classes are mixed ability, you'll find yourself tasked with a need to differentiate your curriculum. The idea of targeting your resources to match the strengths and needs of your students isn't a new one. It should be noted, however, that if you're starting out in teaching or just looking to stretch yourself, it won't always be clear how exactly one should identify the differing needs of a class of 20-30 students. You can lean on your Learning and Support Teacher if you have one, and they should be able to give you some helpful pointers, but at the end of the day it's up to each individual teacher to evaluate and judge the abilities of their students accordingly.

This brings us to the three modes of assessment in our current syllabuses: assessment as, of, and for learning. The qualification of assessment into this particular taxonomy is designed to make explicit the need for a teaching-and-learning cycle; that process where we teach, and then we learn, and then we use that learning to teach again (only better). Assessment for Learning is perhaps the most important factor in a healthy and innovative teaching-and-learning cycle. By assessing students at the beginning of a unit of work we can figure out the general level of the class's knowledge about the subject and, more pertinently, ascertain the full spectrum of ability amongst the students. 

In the course of programming a Year 8-aimed Heroes and Villains unit built around visual literacy I wanted to have a diagnostic activity that would allow me to create ability streams in the mixed classroom.

The idea is that students would start out by designing their own superhero. They would be given a period or so to write details about an original character and drawing said character. The 'test' can be found just below.

Activity: Design Your Own Superhero

After this the teacher takes the product the student has created and marks it in four different ways, using the analytical criteria below:

Through the use of this criteria, the student is being evaluated four separate times before starting the unit of work. These criteria are:

• Visual Representation: The teacher assesses the student's ability to use visual literacy to represent ideas. This will be seen in the image created by the student to represent their hero, and the use of symbolism and other visual techniques to show ideas related to their character.
• Textual Representation: How closely do the image and student-written content link together? Has the student taken their written ideas into account when designing the visual part? This is also where skills in creative writing can be assessed.
• Literacy: Starting out with a class always gives the teacher a chance to check on each student's ability to form sentences, write at a whole-sentence and whole-text level, use correct spelling and punctuation, and draw upon a wide vocabulary.
• Topic Knowledge: You're about to teach a unit on heroes and villains so finding the students who already have a strong background knowledge on comic book characters and the generic conventions associated with them will be invaluable in the days ahead. This means that it's incredibly useful to check this work to see which students know their stuff.

After you've used the analytical criteria to mark the students you can then began to see where their strengths are, and what areas need working on most. Students can subsequently be sorted into separate 'streams' of ability so that activities throughout the unit can be targeted towards different ability levels (IE. Differentiation). 

A thing to remember with differentiation is that you won't need to do it all the time - the separation of marks into five separate streams (see below) doesn't mean that you have your class split into five groups with five different kinds of work every lesson. That would be impossible to organise. The idea is that, sometimes, you can do some group work (with three different streams - core, adjusted, and extension) and other times you can individually target students who may be extremely talented in one particular area (visual literacy) with some homework.

The analytical criteria and the stream guide is included in the activity sheet linked further up. Obviously not everyone teaches heroes and villains to their Stage 4 students but feel feel to backward map anything and adapt it accordingly to suit other units of work.

Twenty Great Graphic Novels: Literacy, Multimodal Narratives, and Celebrating Free Comic Book Day

A two page spread from Dark Rain by Mat Johnson

Happy Free Comic Book Day! The first Saturday in May has been the international day for free comic consumption since 2002, making this the 16th such yearly event. In an era of increased concerns over literacy, and the ongoing proliferation of information consumption solely through digital means (IE. The Internet), the humble comic book stands tall as the perfect gateway to reading for reluctant readers. The unique combination of visual and written storytelling in comics creates its own set of narrative conventions that force the responder to engage with several significant aspects of literacy, such as:

• Increasing vocabulary
• Recognising generic conventions (thus allowing the reader to build internal taxonomies of understanding that allow for different kinds of texts to be intellectually categorised according to style, taste, modes, etc.)
• Reading pathways (comics are great for this as they often challenge the reader to engage with different graphic representations that encourage a whole page understanding of the direction the narrative is physically flowing in)
• Multimodal understanding (where the pictures or the text are not able to be understood on their own, in a vacuum, but must instead be brought together for the reader to gleam the full meaning).

In a more holistic sense, comics are said to act as a bridging point between picture books and longer forms of text as far as struggling readers are concerned. The combination of dynamic visual storytelling and easily digested portions of writing allow those with reading difficulties to improve their ability to decode text. Blending the visual and written to negotiate a combined meaning allows the reader to pick up on literacy cues, grammar conventions, narrative structure, and many other aspects of reading that will set them up for increased literacy later in life.

But anyway, putting all this educational medicine aside, there are a lot of comics out there (particularly graphic novels - the longer, self-contained version of the genre) that happen to tell amazing stories in a way that can't be matched in other mediums of communication. Here are 20 great examples of graphic novels for anyone looking to dip a toe in the water (please note that not all would be suitable for teaching - read them first to check):

1. The Gigantic Beard That Was Evil by Stephen Collins

Absurdist with shades of The Truman Show, Pleasantville, and Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs; Collins' debut uses a high concept (a man in an island community whose beard refuses to stop growing) and spins it way out of control to explore concepts of individuality, conformity, authority, and expression of self. 

If you did want to teach this text with a class, it would be interesting to get students to look at the function of panel design in exploring the text's ideas. For example, the long and vertical right hand panel depicts the beard spilling onto the floor as if from offscreen. What is Collins trying to say here?

                                                                                                                                      

2. Blankets by Craig Thompson

Thompson's memoir is heartbreaking and heartfelt, exploring his first experience of love whilst juxtaposing this relationship with a troubled and impoverished upbringing. I challenge you to read this and not shed a tear!

Thompson is a master of the close-up, mise-en-scene, and selection of detail.

                                                                                                                                     

3. Dark Rain by Mat Johnson

Full of action and relating to a real life tragedy (the wake of Hurricane Katrina's visit upon New Orleans), Dark Rain would be perfect reading for those wanting to engage reluctant teenage boys with a text that deals with relevant political issues. Relatively short, fast-paced, and featuring vivid characters straight out of an action-thriller film.

                                                                                                                                      

4. American Born Chinese by Gene Luen Yang

Luen Yang uses three thematically-interrelated stories in three very different genres (coming of age memoir, Chinese folk tale, and politically-incorrect sitcom) to explore notions of race and identity. This one has potential for English teachers to use as a text that explores the Asian perspective.

                                                                                                                                     

5. Safari Honeymoon by Jesse Jacobs

Weird, haunting, funny, and gothic. Whilst Jacobs has a background as an animator on Adventure Time, this one probably isn't suitable for class study. Still worth checking out though!

The mundane and the fantastical intertwine in Jacobs' ecological fairytale.

                                                                                                                                     

6. Watchmen by Alan Moore

When most people think of comics they probably think of superheroes. The majority of this list hopefully showcases some of the other genres explored by graphic novels, however, if there's one comic title that uses superheroes to move well beyond the stereotypical in a way that outflanks its peers then Watchmen would be that title. Alan Moore distinguished himself in the 1980s with various stories that pushed the superhero paradigm to its absolute limits (V For Vendetta, Swamp Thing, The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen), but it's Watchmen that perhaps remains unsurpassed in its exploration of how these sorts of characters might have interacted with a real world context - in this case, the Reagan-era Cold War context.

Pictured here is Walter Kovacs, whose alter-ego Rorschach represents right wing ideology driven to the most extreme point of moral absolutism. In traditional comics, Rorschach would be a heroic avenger figure, in Watchmen he is both disturbed and disturbing.

                                                                                                                                      

7. Daytripper by Fabio Moon and Gabriel Ba

Lovingly crafted by Brazilian identical twins Fabio and Gabriel, Daytripper explores the entirety of a life in non-linear vignettes. There would be few readers who aren't impressed by the use here of the episodic narrative to build a succession of twists and details worthy of any example of great art, no matter the format.

                                                                                                                                      

8. Maus by Art Spiegelman

Maus is probably the most famous non-superhero comic ever written. Spiegelman uses narrative and metanarrative to explore his father's experiences as a European Jew during the Holocaust, beautifully capturing an authentic voice and managing quite an achievement in depicting an event that often defies our understanding.

The horror and intensity of the Holocaust is conveyed in Maus primarily through the use of light, shade, metanarrative, and zoomorphism.

                                                                                                                                     

9. Y The Last Man by Brian K. Vaughan and Pia Guerra

The first title listed here to not be a stand-alone graphic novel, this series takes place across ten volumes and charts the journey of Yorick (reference intentional) as he negotiates his way through the landscape of a post-apocalyptic world where every other man has been killed by a mysterious plague. Brian K. Vaughan manages to take a tired, familiar, and somewhat hokey science fiction trope (a female-led society) and turn it into a genuinely thought-provoking discussion of gender and patriarchy.

One of many fascinating ideas that arise in a world suddenly devoid of men is the question of who would become President of the United States of America. In Y The Last Man, the highest ranking surviving politician is the (Democrat) Secretary of Agriculture - a fact that demonstrates the lack of men in the U.S. Cabinet at the time of the comic's publication. In blackly-humourous contrast, the appalling and complete lack of female politicians in the Republican Party leads to an insurgence led by the wives of the now-dead Republican politicians!

                                                                                                                                     

10. Fun Home by Alison Bechdel

Bechdel is probably most famous for devising the 'Bechdel test', a way of assessing the inherent sexism of fictional texts by counting the number of speaking female characters who don't reflect on their romantic statuses during the course of said texts. It's worth noting here that Bechdel is an accomplished writer in her own right, and her memoir Fun Home (whilst inappropriate for the classroom) is expertly constructed and devastating in its bittersweet remembrance of a complicated father. If the graphic novel memoir is a genre on its own standing (and it is) then Bechdel's Fun Home would undoubtedly be one of its key examples.

Bechdel's intelligence shines through in her articulate use of intertextuality to add depth to the family dynamics that shaped her upbringing.

                                                                                                                                     

11. Virgil by Steve Orlando and J. D. Faith

Alas, another graphic novel not suitable for minors, Virgil is a violent portmanteau of queer theory and '70s exploitation films. The resulting one-shot Jamaican revenge opus has been christened 'queersploitation' by its authors, leading readers down a lurid path of pink and green as the eponymous gay cop battles Caribbean corruption and homophobia in his quest to save his boyfriend.

One of the few panels in Virgil that doesn't confront its reader with an unnatural palette of clashing colours or the intense discrimination that propels the action.

                                                                                                                                     

12. Building Stories by Chris Ware

Chris Ware spent years working on this ambitious project; a multi-layered narrative that comes in a box rather than a bound booklet. In a somewhat metafictional move to extend its commentary on the digitally-driven dehumanisation of our society, Building Stories defies attempts to consume the comic via a PDF scan or even just by sitting and reading it on a lounge. This non-linear and flexible narrative comes via a collection of booklets, posters, broadsheets, and pull-outs; and with instructions that each part should be read in a specific part of the house. In the hands of a lesser writer this would seem gimmicky, however Ware's depiction of suburban life and lifestyle is so simultaneously epic and small that it feels fitting that it should be experienced in a wholly unique way.

Even these images don't do it justice. Building Stories is the Sistine Chapel of the comic book medium.

                                                                                                                                      

13. DMZ by Brian Wood and Riccardo Burchielli

This 12 volume series does for comics as The Wire did for television. Wood's vision of a new American civil war is partially inspired by the volatile post-9/11 political landscape of the U.S.A., and centres on Manhattan; a 'demilitarised zone' between the government-run United States of America and the grass roots militia movement that dubs itself the Free States of America. Wood focuses his story on Matty, an journalism intern who finds himself suddenly stranded at ground zero as the only correspondent reporting from the DMZ. The result is a sharply cynical portrait of a potential future to come.

Amongst the themes explored by DMZ are freedom of speech, integrity, corruption, surveillance, terrorism, political appearances, and the inherent difficulties in maintaining neutrality.

                                                                                                                                     

14. Little White Duck by Na Liu and Andre Vera Martinez

Like American Born Chinese, the Chinese memoir Little White Duck is another great text for teachers looking to explore the Asian perspective in the English classroom. Na Liu's remembrances of Cultural Revolution China are beautifully rendered by evocatively emotive and attractive artwork. Each chapter deals with a different aspect of growing up under the reign of cultural 'grandpa' Mao Zedong, with Na Liu managing to depict historical detail whilst remaining focused on her own very personal stories, thus grounding a difficult period of history in a real context that should make this tale of Mao's China very accessible for all readers.

This panel is especially representative of the looming presence of Chairman Mao in the background of Liu's autobiographical graphic novel.

                                                                                                                                     

15. Aama by Frederik Peeters and Edward Gauvin

Peeters is a surrealist master of the graphic novel and his four-volume epic Aama is a great example of the delightful 'otherness' that permeates European science fiction. Aama combines two familiar science fiction settings (Earth's distant future, and an alien world undergoing rapid and violent change) with the trope of technology run amok, and leaves the reader bewildered by an arresting and dazzling display of visual inventiveness.

Verloc Nim, the protagonist of Aama, is bereft of both wit and physical prowess. His only true weapons are his cynicism and refusal to conform - which make him somewhat vulnerable in situations such as the one depicted above.

                                                                                                                                      

16. The Divine by Boaz Lavie, Tomer Hanuka, and Asuf Hanuka

Similar to Black Rain, which I mentioned earlier in this post, The Divine uses filmic narrative conventions to portray a fast-moving story that explores serious subject matter. Set in a fictional South-East Asian country left broken by its colonialist past, The Divine combines Asian folklore with commentary on Western exploitation of the developing world. Content warning: quite violent!

The Divine explores the contradictory dichotomy in the Western world purporting to provide aid to undeveloped countries whilst simultaneously exploiting them.

                                                                                                                                     

17. This One Summer by Mariko Tamaki and Jillian Tamaki

In This One Summer the Tamaki cousins have created a wonderfully subtle and moving story of growing up, adolescent angst, and all the things that colour a beach-side family summer holiday. Even though this story focuses on Rose and her family, my favourite character would have to be Windy - Rose's awkward and freewheeling 'tomboy' best friend, who is undoubtedly gay and wrestling with her own coming-of-age alongside Rose's more immediate emergence into teenage-hood. This One Summer is naturalistic in its use of the graphic novel format, with panels that sequentially build on one another in a fairly straight-forward fashion, thus allowing the characters and their experiences to take centre-stage. 

The nostalgia of the 'tween' years is lovingly portrayed through tiny details.

                                                                                                                                     

18. Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi

Second only to Maus, Satrapi's personal account of Iran's Islamic Revolution offers a unique window into experiences that are at once identifiable but also wholly alien to the majority of Western audiences. The simplistic and cartoonish illustrations lull one into a sense of familiarity that allows Satrapi to treat the reader as a confidante, telling a culturally complex story anchored in compassion and loss.

                                                                                                                                      

19. Beautiful Darkness by Fabien Vehlmann, Kerascoet, and Helge Dascher

What Beautiful Darkness lacks in narrative depth it more than makes up in tone, combining the gothic and the cute to create a fairytale that becomes increasingly creepy as it unfolds before the reader. I felt kind of blindsided and gobsmacked by the end.

The premise concerns a collection of strange little creatures that emerge from the body of a dead girl to explore the world around them.

                                                                                                                                     

20. Saga by Brian K. Vaughan and Fiona Staples, and Southern Bastards by Jason Aaron and Jason Latour

I've included these two together because, unlike everything else mentioned in this list, these two series are unfinished and still in the process of being published. Saga is currently in its 7th volume, whilst Southern Bastards will see a 4th volume later this year. Neither of these last two examples will be suitable for classroom use but they're worth checking out just to demonstrate the way that the Image comics brand is exploring a wide scope of genres with various quality titles.

A meeting of lovers in Saga, demonstrating Brian K. Vaughan's eye for darkly witty juxtaposition of imagery and ideas.

Brian K. Vaughan and Fiona Staples have collaborated on Saga to create one of the breakout comic hits of recent years. The concept focuses on the daughter of two star-crossed lovers from opposing sides in an intergalactic war, and it moves out from there to encompass a range of memorable characters, themes and subplots: bounty hunters, talking seal pups, romance novelists, TV soaps, drug addiction, pacifism, and a royal family of robots with TV sets for heads. It sounds bizarre, and it is, but it's also very entertaining and you'll no doubt fall in love with the many visually inventive aspects of Staples' character designs.

Euless Boss: One mean sonuvabitch!

Southern Bastards, on the other hand, couldn't be more different - telling a small-town tale of deception and greed where the local football coach, Euless Boss, rules over his corner of the Alabama backwoods with violent and unquestionable power. With only three volumes to its name thus far, it's perhaps too early to talk extensively about themes or where its heading, but nonetheless it stands tall as a great example of the 'rural noir' subgenre and the effectiveness of the comic book format in telling richly layered stories such as this in a memorable and idiosyncratic fashion.