Beware And Prepare For The Great 'El Deafo'!

I have been a little slack in terms of reviewing graphic novels on this blog. True, I did manage one, however I really don’t think that is giving a nearly good enough image of my longstanding love for them. Although I am a superhero comic reader, my personal favourite style of graphic novel are human stories (doesn’t matter if their contemporary, historical, political, etc) and ‘El Deafo’ by Cece Bell certainly fitted that category for me.

               Based on a true story, this adorable novel centres on Cece and her life as a child growing up with hearing impairment, and how it affects her – in every respect. Oddly enough for me, what I liked best about this portrayal was the appearance conscious nature of Cece, as it made her seem so wonderfully human and relatable. She wasn’t desperately worthy or dysfunctional or pitiful, she was a child facing a lot of difficulties, and struggling the ubiquitous struggle: acceptance from others around her. Another strong element of this book is its comedy, often visual (yes pun intended), and how it makes light of things that, without the illustrations, would likely make readers uncomfortable, as they’d be viewing it from an adult lens, or at the least an objective one. However, because all we see is through Cece, and through her funny view of the world, the reader feels happy to laugh with her at others, rather than feel trapped in a bubble unable to help her.

               On the other hand, this doesn’t kill the poignancy of the book in any way, and Cece’s struggle seem just as honest and daunting to us as if we were living it ourselves. Cece's life could seen as not dramatic enough for some of even a little too easy in places (the boy she happens to fancy lives in her road and seems to be the only one that isn't bothered by the wires), but I think that's the media-installed stereotype expectations of polarised tragedy or success talking. Cece's life is real and appears so to us, in a way that only an unreliable narrator can convey. This reminds to make special mention to the author, Cece Bel,l that she has managed something that so many autobiographies fail to. Whilst all self depictions doubtlessly include the words "I know I wasn't perfect but", there is something about the illustrated format that demonstrates and explains this better than words can. The reader doesn't feel like they should be siding against the Cece in these moments; it is in fact the opposite. You feel a greater sense of empathy with Cece than you would if she was entirely flawed or entirely perfect. It is this very relatable nature that makes the book so addictive.

           I could go on for years regarding the art style for this novel. I could talk a long while about its important accepting attitude. However, I will settle for simply saying this - it did not make me cry and this is it's greatest strength. It is surprisingly easy to evoke tears in a reader, but for something a little deeper and more realistic and yet equally as resonant? That's something to be celebrated.

Come Witness The Savage Spectacle Of 'Wild Boy'!

Sometimes, I like a little variety in the young fiction I read, and the best way I've found to do this is to look at fiction for a slightly younger age range. I've done this before on this blog, for example when I reviewed 'Wonder', and I'm always just a pinch fascinated to see the differences between what is classified by children’s and YA. However, from reading ‘Wild Boy’ by Rob Lloyd Jones, I have confirmed my suspicion that it is not in the enjoyment found by older readers.

'Wild Boy' ticks all the boxes a 10-year-old would like ticked in a book. Action, adventure, mystery and a heroic underdog to root for. From about the 1980s to the 2000s, there has been a huge shift in that, in the more recent films, in the end, everyone who is under appreciated demonstrates their value and is rewarded zealously for it, be that in popularity, sport or even singing, if you're Zac Efron. Wild Boy makes a perfect underdog and his partner in crime Clarissa passes well for a loveable rogue with a tragic past. Part of what makes this book so appealing is its cast of vivid Victorian-styled characters. This is not just the circus members, but in the work house and in the intellectual circles Wild Boy eventually uncovers. These perfectly painted caricatures cast themselves in roles that are often horrible, and visibly grotesque (it is a freak show, literally, at points in this novel), and really bring the story to life. This is helped even further by Rob Lloyd Jones' backdrop of creepy Victorian London, with twists and turns in setting so frequently, you may have to be a Londoner (which thankfully I am) to keep up.

This, I would say, was the books only disadvantage. With such a well-known setting as London, it's impossible to be vague about where you are placing your tale, but, at the same time, this double edged sword means you are unable to keep your reader following so vividly at points, without the aid of a map. This book also suffered a little from too much going on. This does, as I said, tick every box for a 10-year-old's idea of adventure - but is that such a good thing? Sometimes less can be more, and, though I'll admit the pace of the plot kept up, there were so many different settings running around at a point I was slightly lost. A little more description of each location would have gone a long way in helping this, but I guess something must be sacrificed in the name of a fast paced adventure, and setting is not the worst thing that could have been chosen.

All in all, I was really charmed by 'Wild Boy'. Something about it felt unique, which is pretty rare in fiction these days. It's been compared often enough to Sherlock Holmes, but this is selling it short as simply an emulation of a classic. 'Wild Boy' stands strong as a strong and fascinating read all on its own, not needing to hold itself as a mimesis,  but using well known elements to its best advantage.