Deogratias: A Tale of Rwanda (TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNING: Everything Re: Racial Genocide)

Deogratias: A Tale of Rwanda, by Jean-Philippe Stassen, is a graphic novel that deals with the genocide of my youth. Not one which I personally experienced, but one which I read about the newspapers and discussed in the library/sitting room of my private high school. I do not, however, believe that my security relieves of a duty to understand it. Sadly, there are so many wars and rumors of war that even the most conscientious cannot attend to them all; and if one could, there would be others who would find fault in attention here rather than there, where their passions were consumed.

Deogratias is set, as its subtitle indicates, in Rwanda in the nineties. The principal character, Deogratias, is a Hutu orphan in the care of French missionaries. His life experience, as well as his schooling, is warping him into a creature of hate, visually rendered as  a quasi-bestial form, a street dog. He is mistreated by the Tutsi for being a Hutu and by the Hutu for livng among the Tutsi. This establishes Deogratias as a tragic character, a view confirmed by the scenes after the genocide and return of his former protector. Already in his adolescence, he is a drunk. 

Deogratias loves, or believes he is in love with, Apollinaria, the daughter of a Tutsi sex worker Venetia and Brother Philip, one of the missionaries; Apollinaria's other sister, Benina, does not know her father due to her mother's line of work. Deogratias' impulse control has been weakened by alcoholism and abuse, so his understanding of consent is minimal. None of the three youths, whose options as an urchin, a mulatto, and a whore's daughter were already limited, have a chance; the poison of racial rhetoric has already sparked one war in Venetia's generation. The path to exile is blocked by the indifference and self-preservation of the alleged protector.

Before the genocide begins, Deogratias' unreciprocated lust for Apollinaria is sated, at least partly, by Benina's curiosity. Deogratias' interest in Apollinaria is attributed, admittedly by an unreliable character, to have a racial component, since this character calls mixed race women "the refined stuff" (p. 71), Apollinaria, as half-white and virginal, has a purity to which Deogratias cannot attain.

All the suffering and addiction of Deogratias make him an easy target for military recruitment. The war shatters what little is left of Deogratias' psyche, leaving him nothing but an agent of destruction and pain. Death is what he does, both in the war and after.

Deogratias is a grim read. If you are going to read it, I suggest you plan to journal or discuss or both. Sitting in silent contemplation may be useful, but eventually one must express the results thereof.

Wonder Woman Historia

 In anticipation of the upcoming Amazon series, I read the three volumes of Wonder Woman Historia, written by Kelly Sue DeConnick and drawn by Nicola Scott - a suitably all-woman team for Wonder Woman. The art is one notch below that of an Orthodox church. An Orthodox church is designed to blind you with splendor while you listen to the mass, whereas it is critical that one be able to read a comic. The art carries the story as much as possible, especially in the cosmic sections. This is a reversal of the epic tradition, in which evocative words, whether spoken or written, provide a text for the listener's interior visuals. The majesty and inhumanity of the gods is manifest. Scott strikes a nice balance between the complete anthropomorphism of many depictions of the Olympians and the deliberately inhuman depictions of the New 52 Olympians. 

There are a plethora of characters in Wonder Woman Historia; not just the goddesses, but also their queens among the Amazons and several followers of those queens. Even when dealing with Olympians, who some readers wiil already be familiar with, each story emphasizes particular characteristics of those gods. Both the goddesses and the queens are portrayed as slates in a vertical structure. The six queens are more akin to gods in their mortality and their creation. It is not until the introduction of Hippolyta that we get a truly mortal queen. This echoes the ages of Man in standard Greek theogony. Once all the players are available, DeConnick deftly balances a need in a prequel for Amazons to be both amazingly fierce and ultimately defeated.

There are more than enough characters for an adaptation. Most of them have distinct enough personalities that new dialogue not present in the graphic novel can be easily scripted. The splendor of the page, however, may not wholly transfer to a different medium. It is certainly worth a try.

Child Star

 The graphic novel Child Star by Brian "Box" Brown is a synthesis of traumatic tragedy of the life of a child star, especially from the '80s onwards. The art is in black and white and red only, a simplified palette to reflect the simplified view of a real human being. The focus character is a white version of Gary Coleman (or male version of Punky Brewster) called Owen Eugene. Every trauma experienced by a child star or former child star occurs, much like a media-focused version of The Handmaid's Tale. The story is largely told through posthumous interviews with his parents, his coworkers, and other barely disguised celebrities. It is a sobering work indeed, yet one worth reading.

Flamer

 This is my review of Flamer, a graphic novel by Eagle Scout Mike Curato about being a closeted gay Scout at summer camp in the '90s. What qualifies me to assess this book? I was there as a little nerdy kid. The non-spoiler part of the review - it is an accurate portrayal of one kid's experience. I recommend this book to modern middle schoolers and lowly high school freshmen.

Now for the spoiler review. Our protagonist is Aiden, a pudgy rising freshman at Scout camp whose hormones are awakening. He loves the X-Men, but especially Jean Grey, the sole girl of the original lineup who evolves from the Girl to the cosmically powerful and iconically flaming Phoenix.  Aiden's patrol is the Flaming Arrows. This is, or at least was, a fairly common name for a Scout patrol. The name matches the flame theme and the reference to the slur of the title, but that nobody in Aiden's patrol chose the name - they are, in fact, quite unhappy about it - is a telling detail. Some Troops have ever-changing patrol names; but some long-established Troops have a stock of patrol names which are recycled. The patrol name Flaming Arrows would have lacked the potentially provocative connotation of Aiden's generation's slang and serves as a callback to the heavier influence of Native American customs in the Scouting tradition.

An important detail to note is that Aiden is enjoying Scout camp. Many accounts of summer camp for graphic novels and  YA books present camp as a universally awful experience except for the supportive best friend. Aiden participates in all the expected activities of that era, both the Scouting ones and the ones which are more questionable but unsurprising among boys of that age. Aidan is good at some of them and not at others, and he enjoys the camaraderie.

This positive background, however, is just that, and the conflict of the story cannot lack challenges. Just as if this were set at CYO camp, there would be a heterosexual crush, here, in the all-male environment, there is a homosexual one. Teenage hormones are indeed merciless! Aiden develops a crush on his fellow patrol member, who handles it as poorly as one would expect in that time and place - but he does not take the opportunity to get Aiden expelled from Scouts. None of the Flaming Arrows do - and they ultimately back their fellow patrol member in his verse of Boom-Chick-A-Boom. The same cannot be said of Aiden's mentor and archery instructor, who suffers the fate of so many gay counselors closeted at camp - he is expelled after someone read his letters home.

Here is why I use the phrase "closeted at camp." At the time when this book is set, the Mormon church (their preferred name at the time) and other conservative organizations held an outsized influence on the BSA. There was also more lingering military influence than at present. The military of that time had a policy known as "don't ask, don't tell." This meant that  the authorities would only remove a member from service if they outed themselves, intentionally or accidentally. Thus there were counselors at Scout camp whom many knew were gay but said nothing. Why betray the best connselor you have? I don't know what the policy at the author's camp was, but reading somebody else's mail seems like a violation of privacy.

Flamer is one man's portrayal of this time and place but I would urge any readers to take away two lessons from this graphic novel. The first is that the change in attitude towards gay Scouts has been exponential. The second is that the program, despite its glaring flaws, had positive aspects - the author, after all, remained in the program long enough to become an Eagle Scout!

Not All Women (Are Museless)

 The Legend of Wonder Woman is a 2016 series by writer/artist Renae de Liz and artist Ray Dillon which tells its own version of Diana’s entry into the world. The style is a bit too 3D for my taste, but that is now a common style and does not detract from the story. I have the issues for about half the series; unfortunately, I misestimated where it ended and at the time I did not have it on my pull list. When I saw it in the local branch, I immediately grabbed it.

In this version of Themyscira, the Amazons believe themselves to be the survivors of an apocalyptic Titanomachy, although with one “Titan”. The rest of the world is seen as barren wasteland. The majority of the Amazons are mortal. So why are there still Amazons? Some Amazons, those whom the gods deem most suitable for the task, are designated to be mothers to the souls of girls, presumably from the pool of all women. The race of Amazons is small enough to avoid psychic recycling.  These mortal Amazons live their best lives in paradise and die happy. A few Amazons, including Queen Hippolyta, are immortal, but immortality always comes with a price. In this case, the price is childlessness. The other immortal Amazons can accept this, sometimes reluctantly, but Hippolyta cannot. Hippolyta molds a statue out of the clay of Themyscira and prays to the gods to give her a daughter. The statue comes to life as Diana, an immortal child. These details are important to Diana’s childhood. Although she is not the only child, she is the only immortal one. She has a destiny, like all Amazons; hers is to become queen after Hippolyta. This destiny, unfortunately, suffers from a breakdown in logic: if Hippolyta is immortal, then Diana will never become Queen. Although Diana is referred to as a Princess, it does not have the same connotation on Themyscira, since the two functions of an only child of the monarch, succession and marriage, are not relevant. When Etta Candy later describes Diana as a princess, she must think about it for second; this would be a strange reaction from a mortal royal. Diana, the immortal child, but fortunately not in the vampire child way, is an anomaly, and her anomalous nature enables her to detect other anomalies.

Paradise never lasts, much like childhood, and disturbances begin to gnaw at the peace of Themyscira. The rot is reminiscent of that found in Disney’s Moana. The inevitable plane crash occurs with Steve Trevor as the pilot. The Amazons in charge of the defense of the island want to kill him, but Diana nurses him back to health. This recuperation, of course, means someone must pierce the veil to return him to Man’s World. There must be a contest of volunteers to determine this. The point of contention here is that passing through the veil causes amnesia for intruders and a ban on returning.  Diana wants to enter; her mother forbids it; she enters anonymously; she wins; her mother gives her the paraphernalia. This is as inevitable as Krypton exploding (since Thomas Wayne is now a Batman).

Diana passes through the veil, but she manages to lose Steve, presumed dead. Diana is now depressed because she both failed on her first mission objective and can never return home. She is, however, pleasantly surprised at the non-wasteland of the outside world. She is welcomed, despite being a stranger in wartime, by a kindly elderly couple, who may be an oblique reference to the Kents (the wife certainly exudes Ma Kent vibes), but its coastal setting suggests Aquaman. After she has recuperated, she heads into town, which includes Holliday College. Her youthfulness and Greco-roman outfit lead the college students to assume she is one of their peers (and possibly drunk, since she falls out of a tree in the make-out corner of campus). Etta Candy, in all her Forties campus gal glory, rescues Diana by claiming she is her cousin from Gargantuania; this is both a reference to the villain Gargantua and the way that Diana replaces the member of the Golden Age Holliday Girls whose personality was being very tall (the very short one is present). A reference to Gargantua and Pantagruel seems a bit deeper than this series would go.

This story is about Etta and Diana, not Steve and Diana. If they are more than friends, there is no explicit reference – but it seems less likely in the Forties (pace fans of a certain author). Etta directs her characteristic enthusiasm towards boys, and Diana would like to hook up with Steve, but the mission takes precedence. This version of Etta is an update of the comic sidekick, stripped of some of the elements that would appear mean-spirited today. Etta’s comedic plot is her life-long rivalry with her hometown nemesis, Pamela Smuthers, now expressed through musical competition; the Holliday Girls are not just sorority sisters, but a musical group (thankfully this time without the Mexican stereotypes) who are this world’s Andrews Sisters. Smuthers naturally shows up every time Etta is about to perform.

After the domestic comedy, including Diana’s poor taste in clothes while shopping, her unfamiliarity with the concept of movies, and her anger at the misrepresentation of her mother in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, it is time for Etta and Diana to go to Europe. This is not easy in the middle of a war. Etta’s impetus to leave for the front is an unflattering ad from the Candy family business featuring Etta; she hopes that she can both avoid the embarrassment at home and make her name as a singer on the front. Diana’s impetus is to find the Duke of Deception, whose jewel she recognizes and whose existence is guaranteed by a news reporter named Perry. Diana signs up solely as a nurse so that she can have access to the news from the front. Steve is around and teaches Diana important Chekov’s skills, but Etta is still more important.

The treatment of race in this book is interesting. The appalling excesses of the Golden Age comics are thankfully absent, but the presence of an integrated campus and military with the absence of any comment on race is a bit odd. It is true that later war stories projected integration back on World War Two, and Etta’s libido is as outsized as any of her other appetites, but the only reasonable conclusion is that focusing on race would be a different Wonder Woman story with a different villain.

When the Duke of Deception starts raising the dead, which itself could be a reference to a real incident on the Eastern Front, Diana springs into action as Wonder Woman. This heroism leads to the troops regarding her as their hero. Although this is a Wonder Woman story, superheroes do exist – enough that there is a JSA, which includes at least Hourman; thus she is not the lone hero of this earth. Why the other heroes are not in Europe is not answered; but perhaps the sole mention of Hourman suggests no mystical or mythical heroes, and Clark Kent failed his eye exam.

Wonder Woman is on an upward track until Zeus, who has apparently finally noticed Diana using Hippolyta’s paraphernalia, summons Diana before him. Zeus offers to make her his champion against the Titan, whom Ares is attempting to raise using the Duke of Deception’s campaign of death and misery. Zeus is best known for being a lecher, but his most relevant quality here is his unbending authoritarianism. If Diana agrees to be his champion, she will receive greater power than she already possesses, but she must abide by Zeus’ rules. Since this is a duel, if the Titan wins, Diana’s friends are fair game for the Titan. Diana does not mind dying for her friends, but she is not willing to abandon them and the rest of the world to destruction. Zeus, who is petty in all the ways that a being of immense power can get away with, strips Diana of all her powers save natural Amazonian athleticism.

The Titan rises. The air corps flies off to meet their doom. Diana steals the invisible jet on which Steve trained her in one lesson, with the Holliday Girls as her crew. This chutzpah is true to the spirit of the Golden Age Holliday Girls. Diana confronts the Titan without her powers but is summoned again before a god. This time Gaia, the Earth, reveals that Diana is the last child of Gaia and bestows upon her the powers which Zeus had removed. This reveal is interesting because in Classical Greek mythology Gaia was the mother of monsters rather than the mother of the champion against monsters. Gaia was the mother of the Classical Titans, but this Titan is not the child of Gaia, but rather a being from the stars, a robotic Manhunter. These Manhunters began as just, but they became corrupted over time and more dogmatic. The Manhunter that fell to Earth tried to purge it, but Zeus’ attempt to destroy the Titan through control of his champion decimated Earth almost as much as a Titan victory would have done. The Amazons’ isolation preserved a piece of paradise, but stagnation was the price of immortality. Redemption required a mortal impulse from an immortal made immortal rather than a natural immortal; this mortal impulse produced a member of the immortal society who could not fit in, and therefore would experience both worlds in the way that Zeus could not and Hippolyta would not. The champion of both worlds needed to care about both portions to defend the entire Earth from a threat beyond the stars.

On a more personal level, the Duke of Deception turns out to be a regular human, Thomas Byde, who sent his little brother away from present danger. He dies in a bombing anyway. Thomas feels guilt over this, and Ares exploits this guilt to manipulate him. Thomas flies to Mars and lives there alone in the former habitation of his master; a cruel fate, but one that contrasts with the communal life on Themyscira.

The Sea of Stars, Volume One (Jason Aaron)

 The Sea of Stars, by Jason Aaron and Dennis Hallum is a graphic novel based on the metaphor of space as a hostile and alien sea. It is a story of father and son, since the vastness and strangeness of the cosmos must be balanced by more familiar intimacy. Space whales are always welcome fauna. Some of the imagery could be considered problematic and appropriative, but it is difficult to gauge an appropriate response without reading subsequent volumes: sometimes the noxious elements must be established before the narrative can refute them. The plot appears to be a mix of the return of Quetzalcoatl with the colonization and Christianization of Mexico. The small boy beaming with light is definitely a Chist child figure, even if one in the mold of an apocalyptic Gospel, the kind you don't bring home to Mama Church. The space shaman raised my eyebrows, as well as an eldritch space squid, which presumably will play the part of the devil. There is a strong father-son dynamic which may redeem the problematic aspects in the eyes of some people, In the eyes of others, however, having a literally white savior may be unforgivable.

Edit: I did read Volume Two, but I did not feel the content merited a review here.

The Tempest (Alan Moore)

 

Among the practitioners of constructed languages, there is a concept of “kitchen-sinking,” in which too many details are added to a project that is otherwise complicated but carefully balanced. This tendency is a stereotypical feature of novitiates, but (much like the blissful second childhood under the western waves of Kauai) it can manifest at the other end of life. The novice has not yet learned how to balance the elements; the elder has removed the restraints due to the new restraint of encroaching time.

The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen series is predicated on continuity and reference, but The Tempest, the last entry in the series, suffers from a surfeit of those tragic flaws; the less said about Miss Upton’s creation and Moore’s “improvement” of him, the better. The anger displayed throughout this volume is nothing new for Moore, whose bitterness over Marvelman knows no bounds. The story involves multiple time periods, although a minimum of time travel. The League in this case is Mina, Orlando (currently a woman), and Emma Knight, fresh from saving the world from the 2010 apocalypse, while the new characters are various heroes from British comics, however minimal their original appearances were, as well as an actual advertising mascot. The primary antagonist is MI6, run by “Jimmy” and his clones. The passage of time has led to many of the league’s allies who do not have the advantage of immortality being replaced by their descendants. The violence reaches an atomic crescendo, which is surprisingly and slowly reversed by the true villain, who unleashes a worse catastrophe upon the mortal plane. There is a happy ending for some protagonists, but the Tempest suffers all at once from the self-loathing and negation of wonder of Albion, the apocalypticism of Promethea, and the misogynist violence of From Hell. The lesbian eroticism of Lost Girls and the cosmic contemplation of Swamp Thing do not contribute sufficiently to make up the loss. A complicated tale cannot accommodate every story. The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen series would have been better served if it had ended with the death of the pop culture Anti-Christ and the cosmic nanny, if not the retreat to the Blazing World in the second volume. The Tempest is a final volume which weakens the effect of the series.

We Only Find Them When They're Dead (Al Ewing)

 We Only Find Them When They're Dead, by Al Ewing and Simone Di Meo, is a graphic novel about harvesting materials from dead space gods. The space gods in question are the size of Marvel's Celestials (recently featured in the mediocre film The Eternals), but in appearance they resemble the New Gods of DC. This scaling has precedent in DC; at one point New Genesis and Apokolips were cosmically large and the boom tubes used for transport adjusted the size of the New Gods to be commensurate with Terrestrial life. One of heroes flew through space to Apokolips and discovered how miniscule they were. The corpses drift into the galaxy like cosmic fish and are harvested for exotic substances. All these corpses appear to be coming from one direction, but the exotic material is so valuable that nobody in power is motivated to ask the questions they should ask, such as "Why are there so many dead space gods and who killed them?" With a title such as We Only Find Them When They're Dead, naturally some crew discovers one that is not quite as dead as the ones before. The plot is standard fare: a crew desperate enough to take chances flouts the law and is pursued by the space police with whom some of the ragtag band have personal connections. The crew of the pursuer also choose to break the law in pursuit, thus establishing the precedence of revenge. The fishermen of space have left the coast for deeper waters. 

The representation is moderate and is integrated well into the plot. It is difficult to guess where this storty might lead, partly because this is one of the areas involving space gods which is not frequently examined, and partly because volume one is dedicated to establishing the world and the relationship of the characters before they depart for parts bereft of other humans, or aliens other than giants, that much remains unexplained. It will be character driven by necessity, but the work of giants is the motivation for further reading. All the gods found by humanity within the galaxy have been dead, but is this due to some property of our galaxy or galaxies in general versus open space? Do the space gods come from some galaxy that might even be described as Promethean? What War in Heaven resulted in the death of the Gods? Or do the Gods date from a time before the galaxies? To paraphrase G'kar, humanity can stay out of the way or be stepped on.

Afar: Dreams of Distant Lands and Times

Afar, written by Leila Del Duca (Shutter, Scarlet Witch) with art by Kit Seaton (The Black Bull of Norway, Otto the Odd and the Dragon King), is a post-apocalyptic tale that feels more fantastic than scientific and more adventurous than cynical, pessimistic, or grotesque. The setting is post-apocalyptic, but in the period when society has recovered sufficiently to have medieval tech cities along with the requisite scavenged and jury-rigged “tech” from the bad old times.  The mix of styles and the chimeras that replace the creatures of our era give a flavor of cosmopolitan fantasy. The art is gorgeous, neither too cartoony nor too realistic. The various worlds featured all feel different, even the one most similar to that of the protagonists’.

This is a character-driven book centered around our protagonist, a girl named Boetema, and the deuteragonist, her younger brother Inotu. There are five threads: the departure of the parents to become “salt shepherds” and their subsequent absence; Inotu’s tendency to get in trouble and force the siblings to move again; Boetema’s narcoleptic astral travel and speaking in tongues while asleep; Boetema’s possession of an alien girl, Lindu, and her attempt to repair the damage she caused during her first trip; and training in the astral plane under what (somewhat troublingly) seems to be the trickster spirit of the post-apocalyptic future. The thread with the parents is unlikely to be resolved until the end of the series. Inotu’s attraction to trouble is necessary to start the action, but his role is sidelined to that of narrator and interlocutor to illustrate the reconciliation and growing bond between the siblings. The possession of Lindu and the quest to fix the initial damage provides the requisite love interest (Inotu’s love interest is sidelined within the first act, but she does get a name!), and the astral travel possession sets up a love triangle that could be messy. Lindu’s boyfriend (and therefore that of Boetema possessing Lindu) is certain that the unpossessed Lindu will be fine with Boetema periodically possessing her, but Lindu herself has not spoken. In this universe, an astral traveler can only possess another astral traveler, including those not yet aware of their power. It seems likely that the similarity of the two damaged worlds will somehow allow knowledge of the other to benefit the other. The fifth thread, that of training in the astral plane, has barely started. None of the restrictions of astral travel have been elucidated and the appointment of a trickster god, who in lore led a boy to his death in the desert, does not inspire confidence – or, at least, suggests that Boetema should temper her enthusiasm and exercise caution.

The characters in this graphic novel are black, but race is not a theme. The action is present, but not overwhelmingly grim. Even the necessary parental abandonment is downplayed. Afar is recommended for 11 to 14-year-olds, leaning towards girls, but not necessarily, given the preponderance of female leads in YA books.

Review: In Real Life

Just finished In Real Life, the graphic novel by Corey Doctorow and Jen Wang, selected for Mission Comics and Art's book club meeting which (sadly) will be lacking yours truly. The visual equivalent of a short story, IRL tells the story of Anda, a teenage female gamer who develops a social conscience through her experiences in-game. IRL has a rather simple plot, structured around bullying and gold farming, the practice of hiring cheap labor to mine in-game objects for real cash value, (which of course is not reflected in the pay of the labor force), The exploration of how a perceived injustice on one level (i.e., in-game), may reflect an injustice on another (i.e., in reality) is well-constructed. The characterization is a bit shallow, but sufficient for the short format and appropriate to the personalities of many teenagers. The art has fluid, rounded lines; the portrayal of the female form in the real world sequences is neither idealizing nor grotesque - there are more straight lines and generic shapes in the online world.

Movie Review: "Footnote"

On Wednesday I went to the Clay Theater and watched Footnote, the 2011 Cannes film from Israel by Joseph Cedar about the conflict between two Talmudic scholars, father and son. I assume that the Clay was airing it because it is Passover. The tension between the father and the son is vividly portrayed, and the score dramatizes the highly intellectual scenes. My favorite is a scene shows the elder scholar feverishly researching an insight critical to the plot. A flurry of images, like a mental montage, adds vibrancy to the scene and reflects the way the brain of many scholars function when they are high on research work. I had trouble empathizing with a father who found his son's accomplishments a slight to himself - I am more familiar with stage parents than the reverse. I did NOT like the abrupt ending - it seemed intellectually dishonest.

I plan to return to the Clay to watch The Lady, about Aung San Suu Kyi. I have read about the recent election in Burma and read Guy deLisle's The Burma Chronicles to better understand the conditions inside the country. If they show Monsieur Lazhar at the Clay, I will go there; otherwise, I shall have to find a theater that is showing it.