I‘ve been savouring some comics recently. You can insist on calling them graphic novels if you’re too scared to say ‘comic’, it makes no difference to the experience of reading one. The comic is a wonderfully rich medium. Some of what I am reading is decidedly mediocre, and some of it holds that meaty satisfaction that you find in well-crafted fiction of longer lengths, the kind that never attempts startling remarkableness, but is made more satisfying for being bathed in solid craft without the gold leaf.
I’ve come to appreciate that to understand the marvel that is the comic and what makes the best ones work, you must take into consideration two aspects of its existence: How the comic is placed in the history of storytelling, and how it is truly experienced by the reader in the most minute of details of perception and process.
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