This is the kind of work that makes my head turn inside out, a bit. The amount of knowledge, personal danger, painstaking work and openness required to produce Joe Sacco’s journalistic graphic novel of the war in Bosnia is mind-boggling. There’s no way I can possibly provide an adequate summary here, but I admire this book so much and I wanted to at least present it as a recommended read. The subtitle of Safe Area: Gorazde is The War in Eastern Bosnia, 1992-95; that’s as succinct as anyone could possibly be about the subject matter, but it doesn’t convey how personal the book feels. It’s terribly human. Intricate and expressive black and white drawings owe a stylistic debt to R. Crumb, but also have an unavoidable plainness and confrontation that are all Sacco’s. Intimate, painful, informative and generous. Also look for Palestine, his graphic novel that won the American Book Award in 1996. Drawn & Quarterly has published his collection of graphic short stories called The Fixer, and I believe he also has a graphic novel out about Gaza. All of which makes me even more mind-boggled and grateful for Sacco’s storytelling generosity.
A hilarious and true account of one man’s struggle
with the monthly tide of the books he’s bought
and the books he’s been meaning to read.
Some samples, should you need further convincing:
“Clockers was my big book of the month, the centerpiece around which I can now arrange the short books so that they look functional – pretty, even, if I position them right. I cheated a little, I know – Clockers is essentially a thriller, so it didn’t feel as through I’d had to work for my 650 pages – but it was still a major reading job. Why isn’t Richard Price incredibly famous, like Tom Wolfe? His work is properly plotted, indisputably authentic and serious-minded, and it has soul and moral authority.”
“I’ve been trying to write a short story that entails my knowing something about contemporary theories of time – hence Introducing Time – but every time I pick up any kind of book about science I start to cry. This actually inhibits my reading pretty badly, due to not being able to see. I’m OK with time theorists up until, say, St. Augustine, and then I start to panic, and the panic then gives way to actual weeping. By my estimation, I should be able to understand Newton by the time I’m 850 years old – by which time I’ll probably discover that some smartass has invented a new theory, and he’s out of date anyway. The short story should be done some time shortly after that. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, because it’s killing me.”
“…if you get to the end of Random Family and conclude that it was written to create “a frisson,” then, I’m sorry, but you should be compelled to have your literacy surgically removed, without anesthetic.”
“Tony Hoagland is the sort of poet you dream of finding but almost never do. His work is relaxed, deceptively easy on the eye and ear, and it has jokes and unexpected little bursts of melancholic resonance. Plus, I pretty much understood all of it, and yet it’s clever – as you almost certainly know, contemporary poetry is a kind of Reykjavik, a place where accessibility and intelligence have been fighting a Cold War by proxy for the last half-century.”
If you don’t have The Pollysyllabic Spree, buy it. Sales go to support education and creative writing programs in the US and UK. If you already bought this one, but it’s in the not-read column of your personal scoreboard, put it in your tote bag now. It’s your friend.