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Two major things to discuss in this past selection: 1. The tone and style in which the Escapist changes after Sammy and Joe see Citizen Kane and 2. an examination of how one writes a novel about graphic novels. Come along, fellow readers, as we delve further into the meat of this entertaining novel…
Nothing seems to have been quite as influential in shaping Sammy and Joe’s art as their exposure to Citizen Kane in 1941:
All of the dissatisfactions he [Joe] had felt in his practice of the art form he had stumbled across within a week of his arrival in America, the cheap conventions, the low expectations among publishers, readers, parents, and educators, the spacial constraints that he had been struggling against in the pages of Luna Moth, seemed capable of being completely overcome, exceeded, and escaped. The Amazing Cavalieri was going to break free, forever, of the nine little boxes.
‘I want us to do something like that,’ he said. (p. 361)
What a beautiful and fascinating passage! Chabon has mentioned Joe’s frustration several times throughout the book, but never with as precise examples as this list. Notice, too, that the words “escaped”and “free”, the essences of the novel, are featured in Joe’s moment of epiphany. Often called one of the greatest films of all time, it’s easy to see why Welle’s directorial style captured his fellow artists’ admiration and awe. From his classing panning scenes to atmospheric shots where light and cigarette smoke create ominous tension, Welles changed the way people looked at movies. He used different artistic conventions to seemlessly convey, in pitch-perfect narration, his story.
“It was that Citizen Kane represented, more than any other movie Joe had ever seen, the total blending of narration and image that was–didn’t Sammy see it?–the fundamental principle of comic book storytelling, and the irreducible nut of their partnership…Citizen Kane was like a comic book.” (362) Although I would like to spend another several paragraphs or so looking at what the last 7 words of Joe’s observation mean (could the idea be reversed: a comic book is like a movie? Then why choose one or the other? Which media form tells a better story? What does each form do that the other can’t?), at this point, I would like to bring up the idea, just to ponder, of what Chabon is doing: writing a novel which in turn, describes a graphic novel.
It has to be hard, on some level, to write about a visual medium, in poart because, the very defining feature of what you’re writing about has been taken away. It reminds me of Magritte’s famous picture of the pipe with the words “ceci n’est pas une pipe”. We are receiving Joe and Sammy’s comic book in translation–from image, to word. One of the beauties of the English Language is that it allows us to communicate on several levels–we can respond to the sound of the narration (aural), the words of the narration (oral), the story (read: idea) of the narration, or the visual images that we receive when we read. Although we are allowed to create our own idea of what the Escapist looks like, we are also given fairly concrete descriptions. Would you have liked Chabon to have included a few sketches in the novel, or do you prefer to leave it up to your own imagination? How successful do you think Chabon’s novel is in terms of combining the overarching Joe and Sammy storyline with the art, style and tone of their creation? Do the occaisonal chapters in which the reader is plunged into their graphic novel (albeit, without any graphics) work seemlessly for you, or are they jarring? Would you have opted to read a graphic novel that told Joe and Sammy’s story? How much of a wider audience do you think Chabon has attracted to an art form (comic books) that tends to have a relatively selective niche?
~AB
A special thanks to our library staff member who obtained permission from Steranko’s publicist, J. David Spurlock, to use the following pictures.
Jim Steranko is a legend in the comic book scene. In the mid 1970s he published Chandler: Red Tide, considered by many to be the first true “graphic novel.“A prolific illustrator who developed his own approach to the art form, Steranko’s work includes: “Nick Fury, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.”; “Captain America”; “the Shadow”; “Superman #400″; “X-Men #50-51″ and “The Steranko History of Comics I & II”. Steranko has illustrated numerous other comic book covers and storylines. He did the first production art for Raiders of the Lost Ark & has worked on many other films, including Francis Ford Coppola’s Dracula film. Steranko also created his own publishing company, Supergraphics, which published a printed tabloid called Comixscene in the early 70s (later to morph into Prevue), as well as “The Steranko History of Comics I & II”. Steranko’s work has been exhibited all over the world, including the Louvre and Australia’s Sydney Opera House .Additionally, Steranko is an accomplished and talented musician.
As for Steranko’s influence on Chabon, consider: first, Chabon’s love for and knowledge of comic books, secondly, Mr. Steranko had an early career as an escape artist before becoming a renowned comic book artist (remind you of a certain character in our book?). His career as a magician was the inspiration for Jack Kirby’s character Mr. Miracle (who clearly influenced the Escapist).
Let's Level with Lee! © Lee Hester, 2007, ARR
Jim Seranko, Michael Chabon and J. David Spurlock
Steranko-Chabon art print © Jim Steranko, 2001, ARR.
Steranko’s Artwork for an event with Chabon and Steranko.
Jim Steranko, Michael Chabon, J. David Spurlock.
If you’ve come this far and are still reading, here’s an older article from “Metroactive” (a Silicon-valley based news source) which discusses Steranko’s life and work in conjunction with Chabon’s novel. The article has some fantastic quotes from Steranko, as well as a great photo of a young Steranko removing shackles from around his torso.
“He was all right,” Sammy said. “He was good. Yeah, I think he’ll do fine.”
“Will he?” she said, and, lifting the wrapped dish, she looked him in the eye for the first time all evening.
Though it would recur often enough in his memory in later years, he would never know exactly what she had meant by that look. (p.313)
Pages 300-367 are all about beginnings. Tracy Bacon, Luna Moth and her ordinary other self (Rosa Saks), and the Amazing Cavalieri arrive on stage waving their capes like magicians at the start of a magic act. The boys start a new comic book, Joe channels his desire to fight Nazis into new creative and romantic prospects, and Sammy finally falls in love, a kind of magic in itself. Not only are they growing up into responsible men, but the childish exploits of the comic book are maturing and developing, adopting Orson Welles as its mentor.
There is something incredibly romantic and sad about how Tracy and Sammy open their hearts to each other. Kissing on top of the Empire State Building – a first kiss, no less – hovers in the fantasies of many girls, and for Sammy to experience it with Tracy during a time when they both risk death or, at the very least, imprisonment, imbues the act with risk and daring that only heightens the romance.
But this isn’t their story, not quite yet. Sammy and Tracy are only in the beginning, when a relationship is still furtive and tentative. The first steps of the Amazing Cavalieri are stronger and more determined. Joe puts on his dark blue suit with gold piping and becomes Cavalieri, like Clark Kent entering a phone booth and stepping out Superman. He is a man learning to be a superhero, figuring out how to play to his strengths and misdirect over his weaknesses. He is a hero forged out of tragedy and death who exercises his demons and exacts his revenge under the protection of anonymity. He even comes with his own pre-packaged villain, the Saboteur by night, Carl Eberling by day. By battling the dastardly and helplessly inept Saboteur, Joe, as the Escapist, can finally put his frustration to rest. He has a good life now, a good girlfriend, two good jobs, and hope for the future, both for his family and for his comic book career. But, like all good tales, darkness lurks around the corner, it must. There is no such thing as a happy ending, and, with 269 pages to go there is probably a great deal more anguish to come.
The tone of The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay is descriptive and light yet also playful. Chabon has a tremendous command of language, but it seems at times as if it prevents the rawness of emotions from coming through as strongly as they could. Perhaps this has to do with the chosen style of omniscient 3rd person narrator, which at times feels a little too heavy handed in the foreshadowing department (anyone surprised that Joe would run into the elusive and fetching Rosa again?). Despite the nagging in the back of my mind that the story runs a little too smoothly at times (more on that later, I hope), there’s no denying the powerful and rich descriptions Chabon constructs:
The clerk or secretary–a woman, more often than not–pinned to a hard chair by a thousand cubic feet of smokey, rancid air that caught like batter in the blades of the ceiling fans, deafened by the thunder of filing cabinets, dyspeptic, despairing and bored, would look up and see that Joe’s thick thatch of curls had been deformed by his headgear into a kind of glossy black hat, and smile.(178)
What a palpable description! Reading it, you can see the classic 1940s office recreated in old black and white movies; you can feel the murky air clinging to everything, crushing the poor characters of the stagnant, hot and oppressive office.
Chabon does an excellent job of creating evocative descriptions, but something about the tone of the book feels too…easy. I don’t mean that it was in any way easy to write, but the style is too polished for some of the subject matter, at least, to me. I want a little more rawness in the telling of Joe’s escape and his haunting thoughts of his family. I want more grit: instead, I feel like we were lifted from right when Joe and Sam make their deal to publish their book and gently set down when they’re somewhat famous and working in the Empire State Building, the plot progressing forward on its smooth, even pace. How many years did we suddenly skip by?
The book is beautifully written, but something about the narrative keeps me at a gentle distance. How do you feel about Chabon’s writing style? Does it work for you?
~AB
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