Many scholars have argued that comics are inherently suited to—and have indeed helped innovate—approaches to life writing that self-reflexively interrogate the act of life writing. Kate Beaton’s “Ducks: Two Years in the Oil Sands” deftly exploits this tradition. #ducks 1/13
Comics autobio was key to changing the public perception of comics in North America. When Art Spiegelman’s “Maus” won a Pulitzer in 1992, there was finally broad acceptance of something comics creators & fans always knew: comics can address serious topics with great artistry 2/13
The popularity and critical praise for graphic novels like Marjane Satrapi’s “Persepolis” (2004) and Alison Bechdel’s ”Fun Home” (2006) similarly expanded people’s appreciation for what comics are and what they can do, including things they can’t do that other mediums can’t. 3/13
In an interview with comics scholar Hillary L. Chute, Spiegelman says: “comics is the only form in which past, present, and future are visible simultaneously… left is the past, and to its right is the future. And your perception of the present moves across it.” 4/13
In other words, comics are ideal for reflecting on the ways the past affects the present and vice versa, and the unpredictability of those affects, which comics creators can signpost but are always, in part, dependent on the subjective interpretation of the reader. 5/13
In this symmetrically composed page from “Ducks,” Beaton combines specific, albeit subjective, images from her own history (redrawn family photos) with more symbolic settings & first-person narration to show the interconnection of personal, cultural, and political histories. 6/13
The simultaneity of past & present helps us see how the history of Cape Breton impacts Beaton’s decisions and self perception, both in terms of her past self & her present self’s perception of her past self. This honest admission of the limits of perception engenders trust. 7/13
Chute also argues comics autobio is especially adept at representing underrepresented perspectives, including the perspectives of women. For Chute, this is linked to the ways comics let women design images of themselves that reflect their subjectivity & resist the male gaze. 8/13
Beaton’s depiction of herself is sophisticatedly simplistic, specific enough to be instantly recognizable yet universal in ways that encourage empathy. And its never objectified, which is crucial to the comic’s treatment of sexual violence (more on that in a future thread). 9/13
According to Chute, comics memoirs by women can “productively point to the female subject as both an object of looking and a creator of looking and sight. Further… they provoke us to think about how women… are situated in particular times, spaces, and histories.” 10/13
“Ducks” is centrally concerned with the construction of gender. Narratively, Beaton confronts being a woman in an isolated, male-dominated space. Formally, she repeatedly stages the spectacle of femininity while focusing on the emotional effects of that spectacularization. 11/13
The frequent close-cropping of Beaton’s face & the simplicity of her design of herself, which makes each carefully chosen expression line hit harder, underscores subjectivity and solicits identification. We see and feel the tension between (relative) innocence & experience. 12/13
In some ways, Beaton’s “Ducks” is less visually challenging than Spiegelman’s “Maus” or Bechdel’s “Fun Home.” But it’s style exactly suits its goals, which is to represent Beaton’s self and perception of herself, then and now, and help us embrace the truth of her story. 13/13
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Our unit on Silver Age superhero comics is over but not forgotten! Remember, you can find all out threads archived on our website. Here's a snapshot of what we covered:
Amazing Spider-Man #121 (1973), aka “The Night Gwen Stacy Died,” written by Gerry Conway & penciled by Gil Kane, is what it says—it’s the night Gwen Stacy dies. It’s also remembered as a flashpoint signalling the transition from the Silver Age of Comics into the Bronze Age. 1/12
As we’ve discussed in this space before, the Silver Age had competing currents, churning out fantastical romps as well as innovative stories with considerable psychological depth. But it was also underpinned by a fundamental spirit of optimism, as a time of growth & change. 2/12
Scholar Ramzi Fawaz describes the Bronze Age thusly: “[I]n the early ‘70s relevance became a popular buzzword denoting a shift... from oblique narrative metaphors for social problems toward direct representations of racism and sexism, political corruption, and urban blight.” 3/12
In Jack Kirby & Stan Lee’s Fantastic Four #51 (1966), no one punches anyone and few characters use their powers. There’s no world-ending threat and no one defeats a villain or even fights one. Which is precisely what makes it one of the best single issues of the #SilverAge. 1/12
Everything that happens in Fantastic Four #51 happens because Ben Grimm is sad. He’s specifically sad about being the Thing. In other words, he’s sad about being a superhero who fears he’s a monster. Thus, the inciting incident is an existential crisis about identity. 2/12
Within a genre that celebrates masculine aggression, the Thing’s utter despondency remains unusual—and striking. As does Kirby’s art, which uses framing, posture, and rain as symbolic (and melodramatically excessive) tears to heartbreakingly humanize a lump of orange rocks. 3/12
Many histories of comics privilege male characters & connotatively masculine genres. But comics have always responded to changing gender norms, including various waves of feminism. The popular genre of “working girl” comic strips offers many illustrative examples. 1/12
One of the first working girls was AE Hayward’s “Somebody’s Stenog” (1917-41). The nameless protagonist works as a secretary but spends most of her time shopping & dancing. As Maurice Horn observes, this “would be perpetuated in the hordes of working girl strips to come.” 2/12
Other working girl strips, like Russ Westover’s “Tillie the Toiler” (1921-59) and Martin Banner’s long-running “Winnie Winkle” (1920-96), often presented women’s work less as a means of security or fulfillment than a vehicle for shallow feminine frivolities. 3/12
John Byrne’s run on She-Hulk continues to polarize readers for its foregrounding of the male gaze, but the series pushed 4th wall breaks in comics to new heights with a clear trajectory toward wildly popular modern characters such as Harley Quinn and Deadpool. #SheHulk 1/5
In an interview with Syfy, Byrne provides a full account of where this aspect of the character came from: 2/5
"When [Marvel editor] Mark Gruenwald was talking to me about doing a new She-Hulk book, he said, 'Find a way to make it different,'" recalled Byrne. "I took the subway home, and on the way I thought, 'She knows she's in a comic book.'" 3/5
John Byrne’s rejuvenation of #SheHulk in “Sensational She-Hulk” (1989-1994) indelibly changed the character and was, for many years, Marvel’s longest-running title starring a female hero. Yet the series’ sexualization of its title character is controversial—and complicated. 1/14
Sensational She-Hulk is a confident, sexually liberated career woman not in spite of being big & green but because of it. Transforming into She-Hulk helps Jennifer Walters reject patriarchal expectations designed to control women. She also self-reflexively critiques them. 2/14
But She-Hulk is not a real person. As such, her access to “agency” depends on the desires of the people creating and consuming her stories. From 1989-1994, she was written & drawn by men and her stories were largely read by, and marketed to, men and boys. 3/14