Thursday, December 6, 2007

Romance in Ice Haven

I was quite surprised by the number of romantic vignettes in Dan Clowes' Ice Haven, though not surprised at how dysfunctional they all were. Just about every character is faced with some sort of relationship issue: Violet and Charles' parents divorce, Violet marries and subsequently loses Penrod, Charles harbors feelings for his step-sister, Carmichael has a crush on Paula, Mr. and Mrs. Ames are constantly on the outs, Vida and Kim Lee share a brief moment of celebratory lust, Julie "Patheticstein" is pregnant. There are no traditional romantic elements, and I would never categorize Ice Haven as a story about love, but it is definitely one of the more prevalent themes throughout the book.

I found Violet's romantic relationships to be the most interesting in the book. She is a young girl who is clearly very confused about the concept of love (her mother does not seem to be a very good role-model), yet desperately wants Penrod to love her and is willing to do anything to make it happen. However, the only person who cares about her the way she wants is her step-brother, Charles. She cares about him in a different way, and it is perhaps one of the most hearbreaking lines in the book: "I hope someday I grow up and marry a guy just like you" (81.5). Nevertheless, Violet does undergo a major transformation due to her failed marriage to Penrod and, by the end of the book, there is a glimmer of hope that things will be better for her in Hawaii.

Wednesday, December 5, 2007

A few questions about Ice Haven

Clowes' artwork throughout the book seemed so familiar in some instances that I wondered if some of it wasn't imitation or homage, but I'm not well versed enough in my classic artists that I can pinpoint whom he's aping.

The Charles sections with its focus on a small child's deeply philosophical thoughts reminded me of "Peanuts;" but the artwork not so much so . . . though the images of children singing was evocative of Schultz's singing kiddies for me.

Some of the Mr. and Mrs. Ames sections reminded me of "Spiderman" but maybe that's just because Mr. Ame's hair is so reminiscent of J. Jonah Jameson's

Other than that I can say images felt really familiar but can't put my finger on the possible inspirations. Any help here?

The plot itself in which the residents of a small seemingly isolated town goes about it's trivial business against the backdrop of a major crime, reminded me quite a bit if Gilbert Hernandez's Human Diastrophism in which the residents of Palomar attend to their daily dramas while a serial killer is on the loose in town. Not to mention that strange monolith referred to as "our friend" (8.2) in Ice Haven is an echo of those strange idols that appear throughout the Palomar stories. Not so sure if this is so intentional as the earlier referenced artistic homages.

Ice Haven: Artistry/Vulgarity

From the panels on page 4, in which comic book critic, Harry neighbors, eloquently addresses the age old of question of what comics are (all the while, urinating, scratching his ass, and eating cereal in his underwear*), I knew Clowes was going to be pulling a few tricks out of his bag for Ice Haven. If there is a mystery at its core, it's not so much "What happened to Danny Goldberg" as it is "what happened to art?" That is to say if it's at all possible to get a handle on what art is. Or to put it in the words of Random Wilder, Ice Haven's self proclaimed future poet laureate "Is there anyone left with the acuity to recognize a genuine artistic sensibility" (9.1) That the reader is not likely to recognize such sensibility in the bombastic Wilder, complicates a reading of his narration as an organizing voice in the larger story of Ice Haven.

Wilder's young neighbor, Vida, is perhaps the only other character in Ice Haven with artistic pretensions and her work finally pushes Wilder to the realization that he is a hack (71-72). In this section of Wilder's story the colors and line have been simplified, reducing Wilder to a more iconic form, a process that appears to have been in motion throughout the book (look at Wilder's legs in "motion" in each of his sections to get the best sense of this). The last section of the book (before Naybor's comes onpage to "explain" everything), is given over to Vida's narration (whereas the first [main] section of the book introduced Wilder as the narrator). Here Vida reveals that she has finally been discovered and is headed to Hollywood to become the "biggest whore ever" (83.4).

Maybe we were better off with Wilder (who in a sense does get the final word as Danny Goldberg recites one of his poems in the book's final frame).

Or maybe the sections of the book that resonate most, don't have anything to do with meta-masturbation. Maybe the heart of the story rests with the human dramas that Wilder would credit to "a public imagination awash in vulgarity" (19.7).

*This sequence is reminiscent of another Clowes' strip depicting an actor playing the author going about his banal morning routines)

Sunday, December 2, 2007

France v. England: Simmonds' culture wars...

The tale of Gemma Bovery's tragic demise was a great story in and of itself, but I was particularly interested by the undercurrent of culture clash between the British and French sensibilities of our dear characters. Simmonds seems to have fun playing with stereotypes, especially in the "graphic" side of the novel. Joubert, for example, is a classic round-nosed old Frenchman, surrounded by his baguettes the first time we see him (2) and several times after throughout the book. Simmonds continues with the awkwardly rumpled (and charmingly British) Charles, and the cool eyes and aristocratic nose of Herve's wealthy French mother (77).

I found the culture clash most interesting as it manifested in the transformation in Gemma. She begins as a slightly plump British woman, clothed in floor-length skirts and oversized t-shirts (23). Her idea of France is romantic at first, a way to escape Charlie's ex-wife. "She begins to dream of a place unclogged by traffic, a landscape of tranquil communities"--in contrast to London, which she now perceives as full of "'nauseating middle-class ghettos full of dimmer switches, panic buttons and kids behind burglar bars.' As for the English countryside, 'nothing left of it, just one big suburbia overrun with cars and garden centres'" (28).

However, the mysticism dissipates soon after she arrives and realizes that France is just as "real" a place as the one she left behind. "I did not come to Normandy to think of bum creams," she complains (39). Failed by the French countryside, she finds her romantic countryside in the arms of Herve, under the failing roof of his aging chateau. This is when she begins to come around, to abandon her British sensibilities--her British husband, the unabashedly in-your-face middle-class Wizzy Rankins (see page 43!), and especially her looks. She gets slimmer and slimmer, gets a more stylish haircut, and streamlines her wardrobe, at the same time daydreaming about becoming "like an 18th-century mistress" (70).

So if Simmonds is showing the process of a character abandoning their culture in pursuit of another, is there a moral? What does Gemma's death mean? And what does it have to do with the role of "Madame Bovery" in the text, especially as it plays out as a symbol of "Frenchness" that Gemma isn't--and is unwilling to become--aware of?

The Jealous Lover

In the last section of the graphic novel, I couldn't help but notice how similar Joubert and Charlie are. On page 102, the last image of the page has the two revisiting the day Gemma died. Separated by a wine bottle, the two men look strikingly alike. Both have a similar shaped nose, glasses, and a look that we've seen on both men's faces numerous times. This image appears three more times on the opposite page (103). It is interesting that we surprisingly learn that Charlie is just as jealous as Joubert. He suspects the worst from Gemma. When he comes back to Normandy and hears a man panting he automatically assumes sex. Unfortunately, Gemma is choking and Charlie's rash actions ultimately cause her death. Joubert acts in a similar, yet not so violent way. His brash actions include the mailing of the pages to Gemma to stop the affair with Herve and then the mailing of the pages to her acquaintances. Both men fit into the jealous lover category, acting out in a ridiculous way. Moreover, Gemma is an unattainable woman for both men. Joubert in obvious ways. He looks at her as a character in a novel that comes to life. To Charlie, she's the distant wife he can no longer connect with. Charlie is the opposite of Herve. Finally, she causes the demise of both men. She leaves Charlie in emotional despair and financial debt. She leaves Joubert with uneasiness and in many ways an unfinished story.

While Charlie explains to Joubert what really happened, Joubert is still stuck in a world of fantasy, or fiction. In this way, the image also works to show how the characters are opposites of each other. Charlie understands the reality of the situation. His wife cheated on him, died, and left him with nothing. Joubert holds on to the fiction, insisting that the Flaubert novel is the story of Gemma's life. The ending of the novel is a confirmation of this when we learn that Jane Eyre has moved in next door. The story continues for Joubert.

Reading Gemma Bovery

I was initially a little overwhelmed by the amount of material on any single page in Gemma Bovery, unsure whether to focus on the text, the diary entry, the comics, the letters, etc., and even more unsure of how all of these elements worked together to form a cohesive story. Though the book is told from Joubert's point of view, the other visual elements provide the reader with a different perspective on the events he is describing. For instance, Gemma's diary entries are initially quite vague and only hint at what is going on in her life, though they do contain the occasional outburst about Judi or Charlie's children. Joubert even comments about how surprised he is that she does not go on at great length about her affair, much to his disappointment. However, after Herve ends things and she is in emotional distress her entries get more personal and reflexive, similar to the way they were after her affair with Patrick ended. Gemma's handwritten entries are a nice break from the excessive amount of text that Simmonds provides us.

Like the diary entries, the comics in Gemma Bovery also evolve throughout the course of the book. At the beginning they are merely drawings to accompany Joubert's narrative, with the occasional daydream or glimpse into Gemma's imagination. They are not especially comic in form, but more like sketches or illustrations. The majority of what would technically be classified as comics sequences typically involve Judi and tend to be the more humorous parts of the book. The pictures that accompany Gemma's affair with Herve could hardly be considered comics, for they are drawn in such a dreamy and romantic fashion (see pages 53 and 67 in particular). This lack of consistency made it difficult to know how to interpret the pictures, whether we should take them seriously or view them as comical interpretations that accompany the text.

Similar to Eddie Campbell, Posy Simmonds is extremely ambitious in her experimentations with the comics form. However, I would argue that she is not as successful as Campbell was. Though her story is much easier to follow, I often found that her lack of consistency in narrative voice and form came across as sloppy. I am unsure of what exactly she was trying to accomplish in terms of form, and wish she had chosen a better way to tell such an interesting story.

Gemma Bovery: Oversexed or Balanced?

After finishing Gemma Bovery, it’s interesting to flip back through the novel and glance over the pages. There are many things of note, such as the inconsistent layout, fonts and depictions of characters, but what catches my eye the most are things that seem mostly consistent – specifically the way couples appear in bed and the amount of time characters spend imagining, recreating or engaging in sexual encounters. In this manner, Gemma Bovery thrives on the disconnect or connect of lovers, and I can’t help but question if this constant attention to sex (or the lack thereof) is balanced in the text or overstated.

For example, whenever Charles and Gemma are depicted in bed, both parties are shown in different states of mind (5.5, 6.1, 7.7, 19.3, 44.3-4, 68.3, 79.1). There never seems to be a moment where we see a sexual connection between them in their own bed. Eventually this disconnect is shown between Joubert and his wife as well (68.4, 90.1-4) to suggest the parallel of Madame Joubert’s and Charles’ affair that Simmonds points out in the interview with Paul Gravett. Simmonds intended (and succeeded) to depict other characters besides Gemma as unfaithful, lustful and out of line. Joubert goes so far as to imagine himself and Gemma in bed together (84.4), yet sexual desires are implied even farther than this. When Patrick takes Gemma out to dinner after they reacquaint, the eyes of every man in the restaurant, many of whom are with other women, are fixated on Gemma (87.1). A few pages later, Mark Rankin visits Gemma to check on her stability, and ends up caressing her shoulder (91.15) and suggesting that she might “let” him have sex with her as a means to pay off her debts (91.16). In showing us a consistent line of unfaithful men (or men who at least acknowledge their attraction to a beautiful and alluring woman), Simmonds creates an interesting balance of sexual desire in the text – a balance that detracts from or, in many ways, lessens the impact of Gemma’s adultery.

Yet as Simmonds seemingly places everyone in the community in which Gemma lives on the same plane of sexual desire to help justify Gemma’s actions, the text then becomes something of an oversexed depiction of life and an example of how marriage lacks this sexual desire. Perhaps Simmonds doesn’t want to depict Gemma as any more wrong than anyone else, something that Flaubert’s Madame Bovary may or may not do as well (I’d be interested to know if anyone’s read Flaubert’s work and knows whether or not Emma Bovary is singled out as the adulterer). And does Simmonds showing of numerous characters’ sexual desire in Gemma Bovery help to balance or weigh Gemma's actions, or simply fill the world with sex to “sell” this story in our present day culture that is consciously sexually-driven?