“You become part of a story if you’re a journalist. I mean, you can try to write yourself out of it, but you become involved. I think it’s more honest to show that your involvement affects people.” (Joe Sacco, from “The Case for Comics Journalism,” page 6).
It helped to read Kristian Williams’s article before heading into “Safe Area Gorazde” if only to really observe the technique that Joe Sacco was using, a very first-person narrative all but cognizant of one’s own role in influencing news events, however minor, and the responsibility of owning up to that.
Elsewhere in the article, there is also a statement that journalism will have to redefine itself in the 21st century, and that the “plain-speaking language” of the front page of the newspaper is only another kind of seductive rhetoric … like reading a comic book.
I liked the tone Joe Sacco found for his work, and the ways that he inserts himself into this history. In between scenes of unbelievable cruelty and savagery (mostly transmitted through people’s back-stories about fleeing various horrors), we have his personal observations and stories of people wanting basic things – jeans from Sarajevo, news of the outside world (song lyrics and current movies), and mostly the kind of hope that a UN-card carrying freelancing journalist can provide.
“Do they know about Gorazde in America?” asks one character on page 53. “Yes,” Sacco lies.
I also kept noting the not-so-flattering ways in which Joe Sacco drew himself into his own comic. A few examples include a drooling, toothy laugh (8.1), a sweaty, drunken dance (10.4), a full-on monstrous tongue shot (11.1), and food in mid-swallow (50.2). I think all this lends some credence to his voice, a refreshing, more interesting, and more human character than the finely-coiffed, coolly-composed talking heads that get sold to the public daily on the news circuit. For me, Sacco’s first-hand observations and analyses work well, not only because of the pictures and detail that he brings to fore, but because he brings this style of self-effacement and humor to his work.
I’m still pondering though the effect of drawing a character with glasses without any pupils (sort of like a permanent camera). Is it just another form of lampooning one’s look (the bigger-than-life glasses hiding the eyes) or is there some metaphor hidden in there?
It helped to read Kristian Williams’s article before heading into “Safe Area Gorazde” if only to really observe the technique that Joe Sacco was using, a very first-person narrative all but cognizant of one’s own role in influencing news events, however minor, and the responsibility of owning up to that.
Elsewhere in the article, there is also a statement that journalism will have to redefine itself in the 21st century, and that the “plain-speaking language” of the front page of the newspaper is only another kind of seductive rhetoric … like reading a comic book.
I liked the tone Joe Sacco found for his work, and the ways that he inserts himself into this history. In between scenes of unbelievable cruelty and savagery (mostly transmitted through people’s back-stories about fleeing various horrors), we have his personal observations and stories of people wanting basic things – jeans from Sarajevo, news of the outside world (song lyrics and current movies), and mostly the kind of hope that a UN-card carrying freelancing journalist can provide.
“Do they know about Gorazde in America?” asks one character on page 53. “Yes,” Sacco lies.
I also kept noting the not-so-flattering ways in which Joe Sacco drew himself into his own comic. A few examples include a drooling, toothy laugh (8.1), a sweaty, drunken dance (10.4), a full-on monstrous tongue shot (11.1), and food in mid-swallow (50.2). I think all this lends some credence to his voice, a refreshing, more interesting, and more human character than the finely-coiffed, coolly-composed talking heads that get sold to the public daily on the news circuit. For me, Sacco’s first-hand observations and analyses work well, not only because of the pictures and detail that he brings to fore, but because he brings this style of self-effacement and humor to his work.
I’m still pondering though the effect of drawing a character with glasses without any pupils (sort of like a permanent camera). Is it just another form of lampooning one’s look (the bigger-than-life glasses hiding the eyes) or is there some metaphor hidden in there?
2 comments:
While reading the graphic novel, I found myself questioning Sacco's role as an all knowing, all seeing narrator. I'm glad you bring up the question concering his glasses. As you also brought up in your post, the atrocities of the war are described to Sacco through the people of Gorazde and the nearby towns. Sacco then relates these stories to us through the comic form. Sacco draws himself without "eyes." Sacco is just our link between the real story and ourselves. Therefore, in a way Sacco is not a truly omniscient narrator. He did not directly experience the war. He is just a correspondent. Without Sacco there is a very big possibility that we would not have ever heard of Gorazde and its people. Perhaps this could be one explaination of why he chose to draw himself in such a way.
I'm glad you included Sacco's quote about the journalist's role in his or her story. I think that he did an excellent job of not making himself seem overly important or significant in the lives of the citizens of Gorazde. While he was appreciative of the friendships he formed, it seemed as though he was acutely aware of the fact that he was certainly not going to be the last journalist to speak to these people about their experiences.
Post a Comment