Paperback Reader » Graphic Novels

Publishing Experience Pt. 2

Paperback Reader — Thu, 21 Oct 2010 17:16:35 +0000

In the comments to the first part of my Publishing Experience account Karen of Book Bath asked to learn more about a typical day in the publishing world; I would have to say from my limited experience that there was no typical day for me. Now it may be that for a fully-fledged publicity assistant there is a routine to their day: checking the papers for reviews first thing; speaking to the press and mailing out review copies; making travel arrangements for authors on book tours; whereas I picked up the odd jobs that seemed more varied to the unknowing intern. Lack of typicality or not, I had an amazing time and would relish a permanent position to discover for myself what would constitute as a typical day in the publishing world.

I spent last week at home in Glasgow visiting family and becoming acquainted with my newest nephew. I found myself missing Random House, however, even after my brief time there. The photograph above captures the impressive headquarters and above and to the right of “HOUSE” can be found the CCV Publicity Department (send them doughnuts! I brought some in on my last day, which earned me some doughnut points and a much-needed sugar high).

Highlights of my second week included recording all of the submissions into this year’s Graphic Short Story Prize competition hosted by Jonathan Cape in association with Comica and The Observer. Regular readers of my blog will know that I am still a novice when it comes to graphic novels but am slowly yet steadily growing to adore the form; Jonathan Cape has “the best graphic novels list in Britain” and publish some of the graphic novelists that I have highly enjoyed: Alison Bechdel, Marjane Satrapi and Audrey Niffenegger. I was thrilled to be involved in such a thriving competition and there were an astounding number of entries; I was astounded by the quality of the artwork in the submissions and looking forward to the winner being announced at the end of this month. Inspired by the prize entries and as I was surrounded by some of Jonathan Cape’s front and backlist graphic novels, I came away from my experience with new graphic novels by Audrey Niffenegger (The Night Book Mobile - look at the stunning cover taken from a page inside), Charles Burns (X’ed Out) and a signed copy of Thomas Hardy-influenced Tamara Drew by Posy Simmonds, which has recently been adapted for the big screen; I will share all of these books and others I was generously given during my time at CCV -including The Whoopie Pie Book, which deserves excited mention- in the near future.

I also worked on my first -hopefully of many- book signing. Nicky Haslam came to Random House Towers to sign one hundred limited special editions of his memoir, Redeeming Features; as would be expected of the stylish designer, the special editions in their hinged boxes were flamboyant in hot pink and orange shades that reminded us of Fruit Salad penny sweets. I worked as part of the small production line before and during the signing, removing all of the books from their boxes, flapping them so they could be easily signed, and returning them to their boxes afterwards; I enjoyed contributing to the efficiency of this set-up and foresee similarly spent mornings (or afternoons or evenings) in my future…

The definite highlight of the experience, however, occurred on my penultimate day. I was sitting at my desk processing a large pile of graphic short stories when I happened to look away from the computer screen and see Salman Rushdie walk into the department. I did not have a Bridget Jones moment but instead remained dignified and professional even if inwardly I was squealing “OMG, Salman freakin’ Rushdie is standing a metre away from me” like an immature fan-girl. Salman Rushdie’s latest novel, Luka and the Fire of Life, was published at the end of last month by Jonathan Cape and the author is in London doing book promotion; he came into the publicity department to meet his publicist before an afternoon of interviews and signings. Salman Rushdie was in a triumvirate of favourite authors that I would love to meet along with Toni Morrison and Terry Pratchett … I have now met them all (okay, I would also love to see Gabriel García Márquez in the flesh but I’m not sure that will ever happen). Random House announced today that they have acquired the multi-language rights to publish Salman Rushdie’s memoir worldwide in 2012, which is incredibly exciting and quite the publishing coup.

So, there you have it: a condensed account of my work experience in a bustling, vibrant publicity department for a leading publisher over two posts. Every day I spent there felt like Christmas.

Speaking of feeling like Christmas, the Autumn/Winter Persephone Biannually has been printed and two reviews from Paperback Reader have been quoted in the Reader’s Comments section (which can also be accessed from the website). It is an honour to be quoted again and to be in the lovely company of some blogging friends. Tomorrow I am helping out at Persephone Books and posting out the Biannually to readers overseas – after my work experience at Random House I am now a dab hand at stuffing envelopes!

French Milk by Lucy Knisley

Paperback Reader — Thu, 01 Jul 2010 12:15:00 +0000

If you read any of the same blogs as I do then you may recall seeing French Milk mentioned on a number of them. The first review I recall seeing was this one by JoAnn of Lakeside Musing last year; I immediately coveted the book, thinking that it looked and sounded enchanting, and ever since I have been tempted by more and more reviews. Finally I succumbed and bought a copy. I started to read it immediately after it arrived, thinking that a charming read set in Paris would alleviate my melancholia following my cat’s death; five pages in and a cat died (quite the graphic description of its dead body; not surprising for a graphic novel, I know, but this also came with illustration of a cat with angel wings and a photograph). I was blindsided and shelved the book until June, when I felt stronger and could move past those two pages. Yesterday I read another book where a pet cat died… I think books should come with public service announcements “beware reading if you are mourning the loss of your feline”; the only book I knew for certain to avoid was Murakami’s Kafka on the Shore. In lieu of such specifics on book-jackets, I am providing the PSA: DO NOT READ THIS IF YOUR CAT HAS DIED ONLY A FEW DAYS BEFORE.

Anyway, touchy subject excluding, I greatly enjoyed French Milk. In this graphic travel memoir, Lucy Knisley records the six weeks she and her mother spend in Paris in late 2006/early 2007 to celebrate milestone birthdays for them both (Lucy’s 22nd and her mother’s 50th). Part diary/photo journal/sketchbook, Lucy writes, illustrates and photographs their experience; the overall effect is of a personal, made-at-home document. The travelogue follows Lucy and her mother as they explore and discover Paris, from the apartment -with quirky features- that they have rented in the 5th arrondissement, the oldest area in Paris and one of the more central, situated on the Left Bank. For beginners to the graphic novel medium, French Milk, is accessible with one-panel drawings that don’t overwhelm; think of it as an illustrated novel, if you prefer.

Lucy’s memoir is deeply personal and documents her relationship with her mother as they share this once-in-a-lifetime experience; the conflict between making the most of such a wonderful opportunity and missing her boyfriend, John; her struggle to come to terms with the inevitability of adulthood. On the cusp of graduating from The School of the Art Institute of Chicago a few months later and in the process of applying to the Center of Cartoon Studies, Lucy faces her fears of financial responsibility, of failure and of the inability to find employment after her studies and the less-immediate terror of what lies beyond; as a young woman in her late twenties I empathise with the emotions Lucy experienced in her early ones. The journal encapsulates that transition between adolescence and adulthood, the resistance it causes, and the stark reminder of all we still have to achieve and those things we have not that our birthdays often serve as; at times self-indulgent, it is recognisably realistic. Knisley encapsulates her experience in minute detail so that the reader begins to feel that they are there sharing the apartment with her and her mother (along with other occasional visitors) and experiencing Paris as she experienced it.

As an artist, Lucy visits and journals about most of the Parisian museums, art galleries and exhibitions but she and her mother also shop and do an abundance of eating; the title, French Milk, refers to the author’s love for the distinctive creamy milk only available in France. As a foodie, I loved the descriptions and illustrations of rich food, especially of the Ladurée and Pierre Hermé macarons (even though Knisley refers to them as “cookies”, I recognised the drawings of one of my preferred indulgences). Highlights for me were the visits made to two Paris landmarks beloved to me: Shakespeare & Co. for their books and Café Angelina for their famous hot chocolate; moreover, I enjoyed the section spent visiting Oscar Wilde’s grave, which epitomised Lucy’s passionate nature.

Having visited Paris for the first time one winter, I was nostalgic for that visit and that time (I was just a year older than Lucy, at the same stage in my academic career). Knisley’s memoir of travel, food, art, and life has intensified my desire to revisit; when I do, I will ensure that I pack French Milk to reread and to use as a creative and personal guidebook.

Paris in July is a French-themed blogging experience being co-hosted by Karen of BookBath and Tamara of Thyme for Tea throughout July and this is my first contribution towards the challenge.

Review-a-thon: Bone, Blankets, and The Finishing School

Paperback Reader — Wed, 12 May 2010 15:40:19 +0000

In the aftermath of consecutive Angela Carter month and Persephone Reading Week, I have a lot of blogging to catch up with. I have a few weeks’ worth of reviews to be scheduled and haven’t yet reviewed those books read during the read-a-thon that I participated in early April. This post is actually micro-reveiws of three of my read-a-thon reads, to allow me to catch up that little bit sooner; the top book in the photograph, the play For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow is Enuf by Ntozake Shange, I shall review separately as I want to devote a post to that one and my re-read of Black Venus during the read-a-thon has already been covered. Those were the two books that I started the read-a-thon with and the short stories (Carter) were a struggle to focus on and rather time-consuming before moving onto the play, which was far better-suited to read-a-thon conditions.

Following the play, I moved onto a novella (yes, I attempted to squeeze as many literary forms into the read-a-thon as possible and missed the novel itself), The Finishing School by Muriel Spark. I’ve been on something of a Spark kick this year and have a further four of her novel(la)s lined up on my immediate to-be-read -albeit mental- pile. The Finishing School was less satisfying than my previous -and more recent- reads, Memento Mori (which is already a strong contender for my favourite read of the year) and The Girls of Slender Means; it was last work published two years (2004) before death and may offer more in re-reading but immediately was lacking in comparison to Memento Mori and The Driver’s Seat, which are, in my opinion, Spark’s masterpieces.

The Finishing School is about a creative writing finishing school run by Rowland Mahler and his wife Nina Parker, on the banks of Lake Geneva in Switzerland. Rowland is struggling with his latest novel whilst teaching aspiring writers; he discovers that one of their students, Chris, who is only seventeen, is also writing a novel and that it and he display extraordinary promise. Rowland becomes professionally jealous of the younger man’s talent and obsessed with Chris, putting himself, his marriage and the school at risk.

[O]f all the pupils Chris caused Rowland the most disquiet. He was writing a novel, yes. Rowland, too was writing a novel, and he wasn’t going to say how good he thought Chris was. A faint twinge of that jealousy which was to mastermind Rowland’s coming months, growing in intensity small hour by hour, seized Rowland as he looked.

This is a curious novella but very effective in its description of jealousy and how insane with envy people can become, driving them to do crazy things and destroy those around them, including themselves. Spark does get under the skin of the situation and encapsulates in a short amount of pages the madness of Rowland.

It was mainly, at this moment, a question of trying to keep Rowland’s state of mind from running away with itself. Chris, only Chris? Was Rowland an unconscious homosexual? It would be strange if this were so, considering the very perceptive views of life that he held in all other respects. To be sexually jealous over a man or a woman was something Nina understood, but jealousy over a book, a work of art, a piece of writing… That was indeed a fact she was trying to swallow. Rowland was simply going mad with jealousy about the writing of novels.

Early on in the novella I was reminded of Polly of Novel Insight’s feature, Things I Learn From Books; in The Finishing School I learned the etiquette of eating asparagus in England (like Spark herself, I am Scottish but living in England; I also love asparagus but never eaten it in the way described).

Listen: when you eat asparagus in England, as everyone knows, you take it in your fingers, but the secret of exquisite manners with regard to asparagus is to eat it held in your left hand. Got it?

As my eyes grew more tired and my brain turned to mush, I moved to graphic novels, which are an effective use of time and do seem to involve less concentration simply because there are less words to grapple with on the page when all you want to do is sleep. I started off by reading Bone: Out of Boneville by Jeff Smith, the first volume in the successful Bone comic series. Bone has been on the periphery of my consciousness for a while now and I borrowed it last-minute from the library as I knew it would definitely be read during the read-a-thon; I enjoyed it and now have the second volume, The Great Cow Race lined up to read. I don’t have anything more really to offer other than it is an original premise, it’s very much an on-going story (hence the second one being picked up), and to learn more please read the Wikipedia article linked to or this insightful and enthusiastic review (of the series) by Nymeth of Things Mean a Lot.

Speaking of Nymeth, she and Aarti of Book Lust posted an outstanding co-review earlier this year of Blankets by Craig Thompson. Blankets seems to have blown up across the blogosphere in the last six months or so and I had requested it from the library (it’s a very expensive graphic novel, mainly because of its length at close to 600-pages) around the same time as reading that review; it then languished on my library pile until the read-a-thon came around. In the closing two hours of the read-a-thon (after I had slept for around four hours), I read Blankets in one sitting and found it just as touching and profound as the reviews I had read of it had made it sound. Blankets is a graphic memoir of Chris Thompson’s childhood and adolescence, focusing on his first experience of love in the background of a strict Christian upbringing. I find it curious that most of the graphic novels that I have read (Persepolis and Embroideries by Marjane Satrapi; The Complete Maus by Art Spiegelman; Fun Home by Alison Bechdel) have all been memoirs; I don’t read memoirs in any other form and it is interesting that the medium of graphic novels allows their stories to be told and for me to enjoy them. In my opinion the combination of visual story-telling and subtle narrative heightens the tenderness of this story, a story that otherwise may not have had the same impact; comparatively, a graphic novel such as Maus is less intense because of its form but both suggest that the graphic novel medium is the most accessible -as well as the most touching- form for memoirs.

The same week as the read-a-thon I attended this quilts exhibition at the V&A museum, which deepened my appreciation for Blankets. A patchwork quilt is a real labour of love and Craig is touchingly presented with one by his girlfriend Raina, with whom he has a bittersweet relationship. The blankets of the title also refers to blankets of snow and connotes images of comfort, of being tenderly blanketed, or of blank canvases -in art, writing and life. Blankets is tender, moving, and highly recommended.

Library Loot: the Eclectic

Paperback Reader — Sat, 20 Feb 2010 23:37:11 +0000

I returned a number of books to the library unread this week; I am struggling with the time and inclination. I am far preferring to read on a whim and the library pile was becoming overwhelming. I intend to read some of them at another time, a time where I feel more relaxed about it. As it is I did have a few other book requests to collect so I swapped them, in the hope that these ones appeal to me more.

The top two books are requests I made towards the end of last year; both were on loan at the time of my requesting them and I have waited several months for them to come in.

Kitchen Confidential/A Cook’s Tour by Anthony Bourdain: a double-header of U.S. celebrity chef Bourdain’s non-fiction; the first is an exposé of the culinary underworld and is a travel and epicurean account of Bourdain’s experiences during his first TV show. I love reading and I love food so the combination seems like a sure recipe for success. Moreover, I’ve heard great things about Bourdain’s witty writing style and I am a fan of the man himself. Chef Bourdain, how I love thee? Let me count the ways…

In the Miso Soup by Ryu Murakami: I’ve been wanting to read this the beginning of Dolce Bellezza’s Japanese literature Challenge III and one month after the challenge concluded, a copy turns up! The “other” Murakami comes recommended and although I have another of his novels to hand I wanted to start with this one, one of his more popular and well-known titles.

My Father’s Notebook by Kader Abdolah: I have read good things about Abdolah’s The House of the Mosque and it was only upon looking into the book further that I realised that one of his earlier novels had been on my wish-list for some time; I was intrigued by this coincidence and also curious what made me add the book to my wish-list in the first place so I requested it from the library and will read that before the one currently being hyped.

The Girl With Glass Feet by Ali Shaw: this new novel has been on my radar since it was published but it is due to the Not the TV Book Group that I was compelled to read it sooner rather than later; I only managed to the library today to collect it so I won’t have read it in time to participate in the discussion but I am thankful to Simon for choosing this one and enjoying it thus far.

Blankets by Craig Thompson: this graphic novel has garnered a lot of attention on the blogosphere of late and I first took notice of it when Darren of Bart’s Bookshelf reviewed it at the close of last year. The length of this one (near 600 pages) is daunting as I have never read a graphic novel that is so long but I have been assured that it is intensely readable and accessible. I see myself curling up with this one soon as its snowy art is season-appropriate.

Have you read any of these yourself or intend to?

Library Loot is a weekly event co-hosted by Eva and Marg encouraging library use and its promotion.

Embroideries

Paperback Reader — Wed, 13 Jan 2010 17:00:00 +0000

When I read The Complete Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi a couple of years ago, I found it illuminating and a good access point into the form of graphic novels but I didn’t fully enjoy it and found parts dry. However, this didn’t discourage me from seeking out Embroideries when I learned that it was also a memoir about women’s issues; as my graphic novel experience is still slight, I was excited to read one that dealt with a subject that I am most interested in as well as making a non-fiction contribution towards my Women Unbound challenge reading.

One of the things that I did enjoy about Persepolis was Satrapi’s art and that is continued in Embroideries so I felt that it was almost one continuous story set in the same policed world albeit with a far less dry installment. I thoroughly enjoyed Embroideries and its insights into the lives of multi-generational women in Iran. Marjane and her family members gather with friends and neighbours for an afternoon samovar, the function of which was discussion; although the afternoon of tea and chat is translated as “discussion” I think it is more literally “gossip”, or as Marjane’s grandmother describes it, “To speak behind others’ backs is the ventilator of the heart.” I love that image and it is one continued later, where one of the neighbours is crying and another says “let her air out her heart. There’s nothing better than talking”. I respond well to female company, to good chats over tea or coffee and find it often immeasurably cathartic, illuminating or plain entertaining and Embroideries is all of these things. The discussions often involve sex and the experiences of the women discussing it; some have had horrible experiences with marriage and men and others entertaining ones or the women are recounting stories of women they know. From the childhood friend who razor-bladed her husband’s testicle on their wedding night in an attempt to recreate the loss of her virginity (already lost) to the married woman who had never seen a penis or knew what the “white stuff” was that another story referred to, the discussions that take place around tea are highly amusing. Not all the stories are entertainingly shocking or amusing, however, but all deal with women’s issues and the positions of women being forced to married the wrong man, the lengths they will go to keep a man, the steps taken to leave a man, in a culture that value men over these courageous, intelligent, witty women.

Some of the women who surround Marjane are strong and subversive, resilient and positive role models for a young woman and I am not surprised that Satrapi chose to write about them. I was entertained whilst being given insight into a cultural tradition that, albeit not very different in nature from Western women meeting up for coffee, is conducted behind closed doors. The stories recounted are rich in humour and experience and my only complaint is that Embroideries was so slight as I could happily have read something longer and more substantial, rather than barely a glimpse.

The Complete Maus

Paperback Reader — Wed, 25 Nov 2009 16:45:00 +0000

If you read one graphic novel then let it be The Complete Maus by Art Spiegelman. Theordor W. Adorno wrote that to “write a poem after Auschwitz is barbaric” but later retracted it by stating that “Perennial suffering has as much right to expression as the tortured have to scream”; Maus is not poetry, it is a graphic novel (well, two graphic novels), and a novel approach to writing the Holocaust. Cynics say that to win Oscars all you have to do is direct or act in a Holocaust movie and the same can apply to literary prizes; Spiegelman won a Pulitzer Prize (Special Mention) for Maus but I don’t think he appropriated his father’s experiences in Auschwitz for success and acclaim but in an attempt to understand and record.

Chapters one to six of Maus Volume I: A Survivor’s Tale (My Father Bleeds History) and chapters one to four of Maus Volume II: And Here My Trouble Began first appeared, in a somewhat different form, in Raw magazine between 1980 and 1991; Raw was an acclaimed magazine of avant-garde comics and graphics of which Spiegelman was co-founder and editor. Maus Volume I contained a graphic novel within a graphic novel, the short ‘Prisoner of the Hell Planet’, which originally appeared in Short Order Comix #1, in 1973.

Spiegelman employs an extended metaphor throughout The Complete Maus of anthromorphisation with Jews as mice (hence the German word for mouse as the title) and Nazis as cats; other cutesy animals appear but the horrific scale of the game of cat and mouse is pronounced in Spiegelman’s use of literary device. Furthermore, mice represent the Nazi notion of Jews as vermin and this metaphor becomes more detailed and complicated in the second volume, eventually breaking down (Spiegelman intentionally destroying the separation of humans along race-lines) when he depicts himself as human wearing a mouse mask and self-consciously referring to his metaphor. To say that the account of Vladek’s, Spiegelman’s father, experience as a Polish Jew during the Holocaust and his recollections of his time is harrowing is an understatement. However, to my mind, Holocaust literature is necessary and The Complete Maus is highly effective in its juxtaposition of the graphic novel form and the events it is recounting in art.

Due to previous Holocaust reading, Spiegelman didn’t inform me of anything new in the core subject matter but I greatly appreciated what he had to say in regards to the nature of guilt as both a survivor and the offspring of survivors. Artie and Vladek did not have the best of relationships but how can you connect with your parents when they have experienced the unfathomable? I also admired how Spiegelman portrayed his father as someone you didn’t necessarily sympathise with, emphasising that it was not the worthy who survived the Holocaust but the lucky. To strip back such dark, essential themes to literally black and white boxes had me in awe of Spiegelman.

To say much more would come across as trite but suffice to say that Spiegelman never trivialises Vladek’s experiences but articulates them with brutal honesty and creativity that emphasises rather than detracts from the horror whilst also presenting it through an accessible medium. The Complete Maus isn’t entirely harrowing but does have moments of humour especially in Vladek’s later life when he is remarried to Mala and living in New York; Vladek is an often stingy and once shockingly racist elderly man whose metabiography makes thought-provoking and challenging reading.

Fun Home

Paperback Reader — Wed, 28 Oct 2009 18:08:00 +0000

Fun Home: A Family Tragicomic by Alison Bechdel is a memoir in the form of a graphic novel. I decided to seek it out after Audrey Niffenegger named it as her favourite graphic novel at a reading and signing a couple of weeks ago. I had read mention of it across the blogosphere prior to that but it was more a sense of it existing and being held in esteem rather than knowing anything about it. After reading it I then noticed that it was included in the family section of the Guardian’s 1000 Novels Everyone Must Read and am I right in thinking that it is the only graphic novel to do so? I haven’t read many graphic novels myself, only a handful (although I am beginning to incorporate them more into my reading lately), but Fun Home reminded me of one that I had read: The Complete Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi; both are memoirs of the female authors’ coming-of-age in dramatic circumstances but both are recounted with wisdom and wit.

Alison grew up in a funeral home -known as a fun home- with her mother, brothers and closeted gay father who dies when Alison is at college, perhaps by his own design. Her father was a highschool English teacher who had relations with some of his male students and with his children’s babysitter. This is indeed a tragicomic tale. I pitied Alison’s father but I also found his betrayal of his family and the implied betrayal of younger boys abhorrent; curiously Bechdel doesn’t comment (with hindsight) on her father’s actions but through the book comes to terms with her own uneven relationship with him. Alison and her father connected via books and some of my favourite sections were those were literature was alluded to and employed as a means of commenting upon and making sense of Alison’s upbringing and the poignant relationship with her father based on their mutual love for books. Meanwhile Alison is also coming to terms with her own lesbian sexuality and gender, often a source of contention with her father when she was younger but a subtle bond they shared as adults.

Fun Home is literally graphic in its occasional full-frontal nudity and not for readers with any qualms about forthright discussion of sex, sexuality and masturbation. Fun Home’s frankness and intelligence should make it a recommended read for teenagers, especially those making sense of their own sexuality. It is also an exploration of death and grief and Bechdel uses it to come to term with her father’s death and possible suicide. In appropriating her and her family’s tragicomedy (which is ethically ambiguous, I feel) she produces a beautiful and touching deliberation on familial bonds and the pains of growing up. Incorporating the literature she and her father discuss and references to myth into the graphic novel imbues it with a richness that bibliophiles will adore and I found it highly interesting and educational as well as entertaining, at times morbidly so.

The Three Incestuous Sisters

Paperback Reader — Sat, 17 Oct 2009 11:31:00 +0000

At the Audrey Niffenegger event earlier this week, she answered the question of what her favourite graphic novel was with Fun Home by Alison Bechdel. I have read about Fun Home on a couple of occasions across the blogosphere and was excited to discover that my library had it in stock; however, when I went to borrow it, I couldn’t find it, but I found The Three Incestuous Sisters by Audrey Niffenegger instead.

Although shelved in the graphic novels section, The Three Incestuous Sisters isn’t actually a graphic novel. On the front cover, the sticker proclaims it a “Novel in Pictures” (that would be a picture-book, yes?) but in her afterword Audrey Niffenegger coins the term visual novel, to differentiate her book from a graphic novel. She does this because her book does not consist of graphic images but aquatints. Another description to the coffee-table art is “labor of love” because it took her fourteen years to produce as she did it all by hand (even designing and binding the book before modern printing technology published in in mass quantities). During those fourteen years she also wrote her first “real” (her word) novel, The Time Traveler’s Wife, which was originally a project and outlet that she indulged in whilst procrastinating over The Three Incestuous Sisters.

Not so much a novel -the story doesn’t flow- but a storyboard with etched images across from one line of text, almost a heading or description of action to accompany the aquatint i.e. beside this image are simply:

The Naming of things:

The text in this image is unclear but it was by far the most detailed and one of my favourites. As you can see the images are quite dark (literally and figuratively) and are bold and striking in their lack of too many colours; the colours that do stand out are those of the three sisters’ hair:

Clothilde with red hair, Ophile with blue, and Bettine with blond hair, all of them with hair down to their buttocks.

The story is dark and are more linked images strung together. There is a fairytale element to them and I wonder whether the storyboard would work better -or in addition- as a film. Audrey Niffenegger explains this work to people unfamiliar with it as similar to “a silent film made from Japanese prints, a melodrama of sibling rivalry, a silent opera that features women with very long hair and a flying green boy.”

I don’t pretend to understand its meaning or be struck by its brevity but I appreciate the aesthetic, the beauty and starkness of the aquatints and those will remain with me even if the words do not.