As an artist who'd been illustrating children's book for years, David Small crafted his childhood memoir in comic form. This book trailer from the publisher sets an interesting tone for a book aimed at young readers.
Here, the author and artists talks about his response to Stitches' nomination for a National Book Award and to the categorization (what some said was a mis-categorization) of the book as YA Lit. The best part of this interview, I think, is when he describes the passion with which his young readers talk about the book and how deeply they are able to feel the isolation and loneliness depicted in the book. "There's a deep hypocrisy out there that they want to know about," he says.
And, lastly, a masterful analysis of a section of Stitches by two Canadian high school students.
Quite impressive.
It is interesting to have Lynda Barry's One Hundred Demons in mind as you read Stitches. Both artists suffered childhood traumas at the hands of their parent/s and/or other adults, yet it is quite telling to analyze the manner in which each of these writers goes about telling the story of this trauma. Equally telling are the lengths the authors go to try and understand the meaning of what happened to them and the motivations behind what happened to them.
After viewing these brief bits and reading some of Small's memoir, what are your thoughts and why?
After reading Stitches and listening to David Small's interview, I think there are so many poignant and relatable moments for young adult readers. As he says in his interview, it's definitely a step away from children's literature but I agree that it isn't miscategorized as young adult literature. While not every child and teenager goes through traumatic experiences personally, most know someone who has and can relate to some of Small's experience that he details in the book.
ReplyDeleteAs far as particular scenes or moments, I really related to pages 78-90, the scene at his grandma's house. Aside from the abusive nature of the grandmother, I found this scene comical. Perhaps it's because I can see my own grandmother (a native of Pennsylvania, southern drawl and all) in Small's grandma, but I found myself chuckling a few times at his grandmother's actions.
I also loved the first section of the book, when Small was six years old. I can totally see how a child would explore a hospital and slide down empty hallways and personify preserved fetuses in a scary way. I thought the depiction of his "playing Alice" was really nice to include. It not only showed his imagination, but his need to escape his home life in a world of fantasy, something a lot of kids do when they've experienced trauma.
Speaking of Alice, later in the book I thought it was really clever to portray the psychologist as the white rabbit, always looking at his watch. It was a great tie in to Small's childhood imagination as well as a representation of the need to still escape his troubled past.
As far as comic lingo goes, the panels were hand drawn as seen in previous books. The art style was a little more sophisticated and realistic, still monochrome, yet more detailed and shaded with what looks like watercolors. The ending of the book seemed a little rushed, although I realize the primary focus was on Small's adolescent years rather than his later life, however I felt that there was some unanswered questions after finishing the book. I would have liked to have more direct closure when it comes to his dad's guilt about the radiation from the x-rays as well as maybe more insight to his feelings about his mother's death. And I'm still a little puzzled about the end dream sequence. Why was his mother the one sweeping the path to the asylum? Did he think he was bound to be committed, as the negation "I didn't" seems to suggest?
Overall I really enjoyed the book. I was a little hesitant at first when the first few panels were wordless and I had to piece things together on my own, but once I got out of my English mind, it was a fast read.
Sam, Thanks for kicking things off this week. I'm glad you liked reading this memoir, and I'm struck by this line in your post: "but his need to escape his home life in a world of fantasy, something a lot of kids do when they've experienced trauma." This week, we're going to be delving into some scholarly work that discusses the representation of childhood, trauma and all, in the work of autography (a new term, preferred by some who don't like "graphic memoir.") You may want to pay special attention to this scholarship, as it might light the way to a seminar paper topic for you!
DeleteThe book trailer was very dark and eerie, and I feel it lends perfectly for a YA audience. Adolescence is a very dark and confusing time for many. I completely agree with Sam’s comment: “While not every child and teenager goes through traumatic experiences personally, most know someone who has and can relate to some of Small's experience that he details in the book.”
ReplyDeleteThe style of Small is much like Brown and Wertz in that he draws his own panels and his memoir lacks color. I find it interesting that both Barry and Small discuss childhood abuse at the hands of their parents and they both do it in such a different manner. Barry’s use of color doesn’t necessarily make the topic lighter, but for me it shows hope, and without sounding corny it makes me envision the rainbow at the end of the storm. Small does have a rainbow as well, and it comes in the form of his dream sequence at the end. The dream illustrates his breaking of the mental abuse circle of his grandma and mother. I love how he used the final page as a white page with thick black letters. To me the white page symbolized his clarity and understanding as an adult looking back at his childhood, but also the brightness or happiness in his life now. The darkness of his childhood and maternal side of the family did not cross over to him—he escaped.
My absolute favorite panels in the novel are pages 258-267. I love the style in which he captures his sadness and heartbreak. I found it interesting how his single tear drop turned into a downpour rain throughout the house and city. What really drove it home for me was his final page in this sequence. There is no panel and his eyes and nose take up the entire panel. The page zooms in on the furrow of his brown and the sadness in his eyes. The panel is alongside a puddle showing a ripple and the end of the tears. The page suggests the end of the tears, and the acceptance of knowing his mother’s lack of love for him.
Amanda, Thank you. It occurs to me that you pay special attention, when you read, to shading and shadows and the meaning of color and texture. This passage from your post---"...he used the final page as a white page with thick black letters. To me the white page symbolized his clarity and understanding as an adult looking back at his childhood, but also the brightness or happiness in his life now. The darkness of his childhood and maternal side of the family did not cross over to him—he escaped"--tells me that you read with a sensitivity to color and shading (so interesting for someone used to finding meaning in words, not colors or shades!). I want to push you, in your analysis of shading and shadows and light/dark to also consider possibilities outside of the binary. What panels represent the gray area? Is there gray in the book? Gray is, after all, not black and not white. What meaning hides in the subtle shades in between?
DeleteDavid Small’s Stitches is a graphic memoir of the horrible things that had happened to him but is told in such a way that the reader feels empathy for him. His style and focus on facial expressions makes a reader know exactly the feelings that characters are going through, and the subject to subject panel transitions set the atmosphere of the places the story takes place. He draws his characters very realistic and detailed. He touches a lot on reality, which exemplifies the fact that he draws his therapist as the white rabbit from Alice in Wonderland, which refers back to his love for Alice and the belief that she got her ability to switch worlds through her hair, the way he switches world through his art.
ReplyDeleteAbove all in this graphic memoir, what I really took away is the anger of a teenager who realizes that adults try and keep truths away from children. Small addresses this in his interview and this is something I personally have been contemplating lately. Why is it that life and aspects of reality should be kept secret from children like it is some big mystery? Why is school not explained to children, they are not told the meaning of it or purpose, they are just told they need to go. Why does life have to be mystified? Small addresses the frustration of this, and demonstrates it through his art. The frustration causes him to leave home at a young age and withdraw himself from his family. I would be really interested in reading more on his development in college.
To compare Small’s art style with Jeffrey Brown’s I would say that they are pretty opposite. Small focuses on detailing the people and the faces of the people in his memoir, where Brown’s art is more detailed in the background. Small also manipulates shadows and shading to emphasize emotion in a way that is more telling than simply the words or the detailed art.
Nate: Thank you! I am struck by your discussion of the idea of secrets in this book. When I think back on my own childhood, the times I felt most betrayed by my parents were times when they kept the truth from me (for my own good, right?): Truth #1: Santa Claus is my dad. Truth #2: My dad has cancer but no one told me. Truth #3: that "steak" you are eating is venison, you know, the deer that come into the yard at night. Truth #4: we are poor, didn't you know that? And the list goes on...
DeleteI think you're on to something here, perhaps something to pursue, either for your seminar paper or your own mini-memoir comic. What truths were kept from you as a kid? How do those memories live within you? Why DO we keep certain truths from children? Why do we feel the need to protect young people from truth? Is it protection or our own fear that guides us in this? KEEP GOING NATE!
Stitches by David Small was for me one of those books that Lynda Barry was talking about when she described finishing a good book and just holding it in front of you and admiring it. I really enjoyed Stitches. I found the entire story very interesting.
ReplyDeleteOne aspect of the story that I found interesting was the structure. In Stitches Small does not utilizes words all that much, instead most of the story is told through pictures. I thought the lack of words really solidified the mood of the story. For a good portion of the story Small is unable to talk because of the surgery he underwent to cure his cancer. I felt the lack of words Small utilizes ties the story together really well because it helps the connection between the Small and the reader. I also thought that Small’s artwork in Stitches was extremely different from all the other graphic memoirs we have read so far. I felt that Small’s artwork was on another level compared to the other graphic novelist we have read so far. His art is not necessarily better but it is very different. With the other graphic novelist it was easy to connect to the character in a way in which the reader seems to feel one with the character. I felt Small’s characters were more detailed and while I connected to the character I did not feel like I was one with him. I felt like I was an observer, not part of the story, but there certainly was a strong connection. Also, even though the story seems to lack color it really does not. The black, white, and gray dynamic is more similar to Barry’s style than to Wertz or Brown. The different shades of black, white, and gray help to set a mood for the story like Barry’s use of colors. Wertz and Brown use shading sparingly and their use of colors sometimes sets a mood but their stories are not dependent on it.
Patrick: First, let me just say that I adore the image of you finishing the book and then holding it in front of your face to admire it for a while. Yay. That is an English professor's dream. Mission accomplished! So glad you liked the memoir so much.
DeleteThe fact that you were most struck by the "voiceless" aspect of this memoir is so cool! This could be an interesting avenue to pursue for your paper. "Voice in memoir comics." There's a memoir comic called How I Made it To 18 that also has more image than text and "voice" or, rather, the emergence of the author's voice, plays a big role in the narrative. Another memoir comic I think of when I think of voice is Mom's Cancer, which also has more image than text...so much of the story of medical trauma can be told through pictures...hmmm. Anyway, something to ponder. Thank you!
Without even trying, I found myself immersed in the world that David Small composed. The art style is beyond anything I would find myself enjoying. It’s dark, scary, and highly intimidating to approach at first glance. I remember glancing through this text when I first got it and found the scene where his grandmother is burning his hands with the hot water. I remember quickly shutting the book, terrified of what was to come. However, once I started reading, I ran through in one shot, it was impossible to break away. I loved the imagery used and the lack of color completely set the mood.
ReplyDeleteLike Brown and Wertz, Small does not use color in his comic. In all honesty, the tone he was trying to reach would not have been possible had he used color. However, like the other two artists, he does “color in” his drawings. There is more than just lines to his work and there is a substantial amount of lighting and shading techniques. As mentioned by the Canadian students in the analysis, the scene where the mother wants to fulfil her son’s “dying wish” uses a great deal of shading and lighting techniques. On page 173, the main character’s face slowly grows darker until it is completely shaded in the last panel when he reminds his mother that she burned his books.
I also love the panel differentiation in this comic. The last three comics we read had a pattern to the way the panels where set up. For Brown, it was the six panels per page, as was Wertz though she changed hers up a bit more than Brown did, while Barry used 2 per page. In one scene, his dream scene with the bat uses no panels at all (pg 197-200). While the scene broke my heart, Small invites the audience to make their own interpretations to what is happening. There are no borders, no rules, and the whole dream is very broad and very open. He leaves it vague too leaving even more room to draw in the readers. All readers have left to go with is “mama”.
On pages 190-193, Small uses the “no panels” technique again. With no words, he turns the character’s scar into stairs, a transition that truly can only be done in comic form. I suppose the best way to describe the transition in this scene to be aspect to aspect while the dream fit more moment to moment. While these scenes have little to no words, the moment when the scar turns into stairs, we are brought to another confrontation of many with David and his mother.
These moments, the dream and the scar, also happen within one another and, despite this, were both very powerful moments in the story.
When first reading the book, I thought it was mostly about how he interacted with both his parents. As I look through again, I see this more as David’s interactions with his mother and how they got along. I feel that Patrick’s statement fits best with how I saw the story unfold, “I felt Small’s characters were more detailed and while I connected to the character I did not feel like I was one with him. I felt like I was an observer, not part of the story, but there certainly was a strong connection.”
I also agree with Samantha’s statement, “Speaking of Alice, later in the book I thought it was really clever to portray the psychologist as the white rabbit, always looking at his watch. It was a great tie in to Small's childhood imagination as well as a representation of the need to still escape his troubled past.”
Overall, I am so glad this was one of the books we got to read and I absolutely love it!
SO, I had this wonderful realization that I have read one of David Small's Books before! I read Imogene’s Antlers when I was still in elementary school. I had a feeling his name sounded familiar.
DeleteDanielle: Thank you! First, let me say that I love the way you take us through your reading process. I love knowing you slammed the book shut when you were horrified, and then returned to it once you were ready and gorged on it all in one shot. That is cool info, and I hope you continue to share your reading process with your students! It makes reading real, you know?
DeleteAlso, thank you for (1) reading and (2) then incorporating your classmates' blog posts in your own writing. Intertextuality. That's what we are shooting for. Synthesis. Thank you!
You touch on SO many interesting aspects of this memoir, and the two that stand out for me are (1) the relationship between tone and lighting/shading/color and (2) panel variance (or differentiation, as you say). You also draw a cool connection between Small's history as a children's book illustrator and the style of this memoir; I think we can see this connection most clearly in his manipulation of the panels and borders on each page--he uses them as a kind of vocabulary in and of itself...the panels and borders provide a sort of "choral" element (as in a Greek chorus) to the narrative--they guide us but we have to look and listen closer for the details of what's happening.
You are a good close reader, and I'm pleased that you liked this memoir so much! Lots of good ideas here, Danielle. Thanks for your good work!
One of the things that really struck me about "Stitches" is how David Small is able to make us feel about the story he tells: alternately amused, saddened, and afraid. There's something decidedly real about the emotional kick of the memoir and I think it's because Small is really getting the most of the various graphic and other techniques he employs here.
ReplyDeleteThe memoir largely recounts Small's childhood experiences, and I think he does a remarkable job of making us feel again what it's like to be a child. I believe his work illustrating other children's literature helps him here. He uses the illustrative trick of drawing pictures from the viewpoint of a child. From this lower vantage point, we're constantly looking up at things. Faces if adults become both distant and dangerous, off-balance; it's like tilting your head up on a New York City street to see the tops of the skyscrapers. Everything looks monumental and imposing. It makes us (Small's child persona) feel powerless, which we know is exactly how we are supposed to feel given the terrible things that happen over the course of the memoir.
Another thing that Small does graphically is bring interior emotions and thoughts into the external world. In this way we see the world not only from the viewpoint, but from the psychology of a child. He uses "visual metaphor" and exaggeration, but in a different way than other memoirists like Julia Wertz have. One of the techniques Small frequently makes use of is the amplification of ink-wash shadows to make the world seem darker and scarier than it might from an adult perspective, a choice that makes sense given that Small is navigating confusing, traumatic, and abusive circumstances. Another thing Small does is visually externalize the overactive imagination of his child self, such as when he finds the fetus jars in the hospital and imagines one escaping and chasing him. He also draws adults with exaggerated features and lines, at once cartoonish (childlike) and grimly realistic, often making adults look scary; his grandmother's face, with its blanked-out, socket-like glasses, is often drawn to resemble a skull.
Because of these visual "tricks" Small uses to construct the reality we perceive, we become the child David in the story, making us identify with the character and feel what he feels. We know we are seeing the world as Small saw it, so we become immersed in his consciousness.
Gabe: After reading this post, it strikes me that what you're bringing to the table, in terms of what we have to learn from you, is an understanding of (and a reverence for?) the child's perspective. Clearly, your study of children's books has honed your focus so that you can see how this shift in perspective changes the reading experience for the reader. You masterfully observe and list three "tricks," as you call them, that Small uses to help direct the reader's attention and to manipulate the reader's experience through the story. The adults in the story are not the people whose laps we want to climb into, not the people we want to save us from fear and harm. The perspective of this book, and the way that Small directs our eye and our emotions, is masterful, and I love the way you have gotten inside of his ability to do this. It's not magic; it's purposeful and it's artistic, and it's worth it to figure out how he manages to make us feel a certain way. If you read Sean's post, it is clear that the book is horrifying to readers. But, Gabe, you've done the work of trying to look closely to identify precisely WHY his artwork gives us pause, makes us cringe. Thank you! I am feeling like your focus on art style and technique will carry you through...you have a lot to teach me!
DeleteI am really struck by the difference in tone between the memoir and the video of David Small taking about the memoir. The memoir had an intimate yet cinematic feel. At times, we were shown the most intimate detail of every moment, travelling across pages with the protagonist to the depths of his depression. At other times, we are kept at arms length, seeing fragments of the face he saw. While reading, I got the impression that we were given those fragments because that's what Small had recevied as a child: slivers of truth and affection. To some degree, I still think I'm right.
ReplyDeleteHowever, after watching the video of him talking about the memoir, I began to get the sense that Small had created a distance between the memoir and himself. He kept calling it "the book" or, even more rarely, "Stitches," never "my memoir." More interestingly, he referred to the protagonist -- himself! -- as "a teenager" and "the main character." He did not say that HE was that person until about 4:13 in the video.
This, to me, resonates with exactly what the content of the video is about -- the memoir's classification as YA. As Small says, he was somewhere in between children's and adult lit. Likewise, based on the impression of a six-minute video, it seems as though he has a "somewhere in between" relationship with the text: in between identification with the story as his own, yet a detachment that, given the content of his life, makes sense to me.
Also, the art is beautiful.
Jessica: This is just more proof for me that you have incredible intuition! Yes, I agree with you that all we get vis a vis Small's perspective are slivers and shards and broken narratives of truth. And, yes, he has managed to weave that reality of his young life into the art style of this memoir. So, a tiny symbol of affection from his mother...once. A tiny gesture of love from his grandmother...once. Like little breadcrumbs that he had to pick up bit by bit through all those formative years.
DeleteAnd then...we meet the real David Small, who is, as you indicate in your observation of his detachment from his memoir, a paradox wrapped in a conundrum rolled in complexity. Thanks for noticing the small significant stuff.
While reading Stitches, I never questioned whether or not this should be listed as a young adult book. I do not think this memoir is appropriate for young children, but I believe adolescents are certainly equip to handle this book. Although the book does feature dark imaginary and concepts, adolescents is a time of hardship for many, which is why young adults could relate and benefit from reading this book.
ReplyDeleteWhen reading this graphic memoir, I noticed right away that Small portrays his childhood in a much gloomier way than the previous memoirs we have read. In One Hundred Demands, Barry touches upon many of her bad memories and traumatic experiences growing up, but because of her colorful style and imagery, she is able to tell her story in a much more playful way. In Stitches, Small draws black and white panels, with an abundance of shadows and lines in each drawing. Another difference I noticed in Stitches is that Small draws his panels in a way which the reader is able to get inside his mind and other characters from his point of view. When he draws panels of his mother and grandmother, the characters are often drawn without David in the picture, which allows us to see the characters as if we are looking through his eyes. This creates empathy, especially when we see how harshly he is treated from his family. One part that stood out to me was on page 204 when David finds the letter that his mother wrote to his grandmother, informing her about David’s cancer. When reading this I felt like I was David, and that I was the one who was being betrayed and hurt by his mother. Small successfully portrays his story in a way that allows readers to relate and empathize with his character.
Another thing I noticed about Stitches is that there is far less text used than any of the other graphic memoirs we have read yet this semester. Even though there weren’t many words on each page, I felt the message the panels conveyed were just as powerful, if not more powerful, as the panels of the other memoirs. Small’s drawings are detailed, and have the ability to allow the reader to escape into his world and see everything from his point of view.
Carina: I am most struck by your discussion of perspective here, and I'm sorry you missed our discussion of Stitches, as the POV from which we are seeing the characters in the book has quite an impact on our ability to feel like we are in David's shoes. I like how you connect this artistic choice to feeling empathy as a reader. I wonder if you will attend to this same idea in subsequent memoir we read, as it seems like a good, possible paper topic: developing empathy in readers of graphic memoir. Thank you!
DeleteI have to say, I was very chilled in watching these scenes with the added music. I always knew that in movies or television the music typically matches the mood of the scene, or is used as a device to cause the viewer to feel a certain way. I certainly saw that there. Even the parts that may not have had that eerie quality to them at all were tainted by the music.
ReplyDeleteI think after watching the videos (five scenes) I am realizing what this medium can do in terms of visually for sound. I’m not sure I’ve ever read a book and been able to hear the sounds described, but after watching the video there is no doubt that the sounds were there all along. I think that’s what is really different about graphic memoir and novels, or any image-less reading perhaps. The visual aspect makes all of the other aspects come alive.
I really like the art style. It’s a little more realistic than that of the other authors we have read so far, but still simplistic in terms of color. I think this still allows for some space in terms of being able to put yourself in the place of the character, if you subscribe to that idea.
I do not see this as a miscatergorization. Although there is heavy material, I think with YA books it depends on how the author handles this material. I would definitely say that Brown's memoir, and Wertz were absolutely not for children, but they handled their heavier material in a different way. There is some carelessness to which they handle it, which I am not sure a child can relate to anyways.
Katie: I immediately highlighted this phrase in your post:
Delete"the sounds were there all along"
I love it, and I love what you say about the images/visuals bringing other (invisible) aspects of the text to life. I wonder what these other aspects are, in your mind? What else is brought to life in an image-based text that isn't necessarily in a print based text?
I think Stitches is definitely correctly categorized as young adult lit. Its themes and other elements remind me strongly of novels I read in my Adolescent Lit class.
ReplyDeleteAs different as 100 Demons was to the first two memoirs, Stitches is even more different from all three. The first three memoirs have a general style that is highly reminiscent of comic strips and the funnies. Stitches on the other hand feels more like a “proper” comic book. Unlike the first three memoirs there is very little to no humor. There are also many more panels with no words present. It also tends to stay within a single scene much longer than the other three. It also “feels” more like a traditional story structure, it feels like one complete story, which was less so the case with the other three. Unlike that other three the art style was less cartoony/iconic and more realistic.
Stitches seems to rely the most on action-to-action and moment-to-moment transitions. Subject-to-subject transitions are also used allot. Scene-to-scene transitions are also used a decent amount. There didn't seem to be that many aspect-to-aspect transitions and no non-sequiturs that I could find.
Mark: I think you are the first person to explicitly name what bugs some of us about this comic: It's not funny. Not at all. Ever.
DeleteI think it was Gabe who brought up the idea in class that the word "comics" clues us in to the fact that there MUST be some kind of humor somewhere in the text, or at least in the images. And, with most comics, there is at least some humor if not a lot of it. Julia Wertz's life isn't a walk in the park, yet we laugh our way through her memoir simply because of what she chooses to tell us and represent and what she chooses to leave out.
So, what's the deal with comics that aren't funny? Is there a special category that the belong to? Drama comics? I think you might want to riff on this a little...
Coming off from reading One Hundred Demons to tackling Stitches I noticed a stark contrast immediately. Reading Stitches, I noticed the narrative distance Small created between himself and the story, as well as the distance I as a reader had from the story. I didn’t notice a lot of the protagonist reflecting much on the situation, rather than him just telling us the story. This is completely different from Barry’s One Hundred Demons because after every chapter she reflects in some way about the event.
ReplyDeleteThe distance between Small and his story is also apparent from his interview. The events of the book are depressing and traumatic and I often times found myself skipping to Small’s picture in the back of the book and thinking “Holy shit! This all happened to this guy?!” I can understand why, as Jessica pointed out, that Small would create a distance between himself and the text.
I also found Small’s memoir darker than Barry’s, in style and depiction. Small does an excellent and extremely thoughtful job in showing us the movement of time and space through the panel set up. He seems to take his time, establishing the tone of the memoir through a series of wordless panels, and enlarge page size panels that really help the reader feel the main character’s perceptive. This is different from Barry who often relies on words to emote the story to the reader.
As for the labeling of this graphic memoir as YA, I would argue it is. The story is very dark, but as is real life. I feel as though it’s a great experience for younger reader, and opens them up to graphic novels. In no way do I get a “Comic book-y” feel when I read this book. It is a work of art that is crafted masterfully in a way that enhances the memoir and makes it come to life for the reader.
Heather: I like how you observe and point out that, while Lynda Barry explicitly reflects, as a grown woman, on the choices and incidents from her past, David Small doesn't really reflect on what happened to him...not explicitly, anyway. I would argue that he DOES reflect through his choice and use of imagery. Last night in class, for example, we discussed (thanks to Jessica's page analysis) the significance of the therapist as the White Rabbit from Alice in Wonderland. By choosing to portray his therapist this way, David Small IS reflecting on what happened to him and what it meant. So, I think what you are seeing, Heather, is the difference between explicit reflection and implied reflexivity. Kinda cool to examine as we move forward, especially with Alison Bechdel, who obsessively examines and "interrogates" (just like the article on memoir said!) every single nook and cranny of her reconstructed memory.
DeleteIt was very difficult to continue reading Stitches at certain points. It almost seems like less of a memoir and more of a horrifying grimoire of pain and abuse. It's well drawn, well written and paints a fascinating picture as a complete whole. But I'll tell you right now, I'm never reading it again. It's simply too aberrant and creepy to re-read on a sunday afternoon.
ReplyDeleteWould I classify it as young-adult? I suppose, but they'd need a strong stomach. It could fit into several different age groups, each likely getting something different out of it. A younger reader could see themselves in Small's position, thankful that they (hopefully) have/had a better home life. A college age reader, such as myself, can more clearly see the horror of what he was put through. I asked myself several times throughout the book why Small didn't report this abuse, but I realized I was seeing this as a more privileged 22 year old, not a frightened child. Lastly, as an adult (or especially a parent) the abuse is even more heart-rending, as you might wish you could have been there.
It's a powerful book and not one I could recommend to just anyone. 100 Demons, while occasionally dealing with similar subjects, is much more colorful (both literally and figuratively) and thus easier to absorb for the reader. Stitches is a very different demon. A black and white romp through the horrors of mental instability and childhood trauma.
Thank you, Sean. I am so interested in your word choice here. You refer to Small's memoir as "a horrifying grimoire of pain and abuse." A grimoire, as I understand it, is a book of magic, something used to invoke demons and spirits from the dead. What an odd and fascinating description for this comic. I would like to hear more about this from you...what caused you to use that word, in particular?
DeleteWhen I first picked up this book and opened to the first page which was entirely black minus "I was six" all I could think was, well...this isn't quite going to be as happy go lucky as 100 demons or as funny and mess around as Drinking at the Movies or Funny Misshapen body. What first struck me about it was that the first page of panels didn't have words. It was just really shaded and miserable looking..setting the scene for the neighborhood and the house. I could tell I was going to get sad from reading this book. When I watched the video with him actually reading out the panels and playing them through I thought it was even more powerful than the images. The emphasis of the sounds like the pencil scratching on the paper and his mother slamming the cupboards just made the story all that more real. The background music, I thought, brought to life the sadness and despair I picked up from just viewing the pictures. This book is clearly really dark, this poor guy has suffered through a lot more than most people in his life. But as he tells the back story of his mother, I found myself beginning to understand why she was so emotionally stunted as well. That's exactly how the cycle of abuse starts, and as he said it wasn't so much physical abuse as it was psychological. I really can't say if it was categorized wrongly. I guess sitting here as almost an adult and finding it hard to stomach is what makes me apprehensive toward considering it a young adult memoir. However, I can remember being younger and feeling such angst toward my parents, not for the same reasons of course, but I do suppose those in a younger demographic would be able to relate at least with his feelings of anger toward them. It's also interesting the way that some pages and pages just have panels but no words. I thought that added to the power of the memoir because it caused me to have to really examine the pages, and sometimes I saw things I rather wouldn't have. For example, him playing in the hospital and finding the baby in a jar..how horrifying to imagine finding that at six years old. I think his art style really captures the overall tone of the memoir.
ReplyDeleteKatherine: When I read the beginning of your post, where you describe knowing, after opening to the first page of the memoir, that this one wasn't going to be like the others, my mind immediately went to the title of the memoir: Stitches.
DeleteWe never talked about the title, a piece of the work that the author most definitely took some time with (you can be sure!).
Why does he call his memoir Stitches?
Okay, yeah, yeah, his neck gets all stitched up. But, what else might this title be referring to here? What else gets stitched up? What is left "in stitches?"
Think of childhood. Now think of stitches. What's the connection?
Stitch captured my full attention on the very 1st page. I was captivated by the way he can tell a part of his story without any words at all. When he was told he couldn't play on the elevators or play with the wheel chairs and that was exactly what he did I knew I knew I would enjoy the character. He was a spunky. I love him. It was the 1st graphic memoir we have read which seem to have more illustrations than writing and where illustrations can stand alone. It was also the 1st memoir we've read where the narrator remains a child the entire time. He isn't looking looking back and reflecting , he is telling his story like he is reliving it .
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