Book 35: The Sculptor

The Sculptor

Scott McCloud

I'm always on the lookout for good graphic novels to read, and I was sold on this one as soon as I heard that it was a Faust story; that Scott McCloud is not only acclaimed for his knowledge of comics but is also the author of Zot! (which I loved) seemed especially serendipitous. While my personal reaction to this book isn't quite as rapturous as others' seem to be, I enjoyed McCloud's take on the typical Faustian bargain and his explorations of the meanings of (in no particular order) love, art, and life. He deserves significant credit for his successful efforts to refresh the old trope; though the basic architecture of the typical life-for-art trade is sturdy, as expected, the story often veers in unexpected directions, to say nothing of a painful pair of final twists that had me in tears as I returned to the office from a lunch break. Though The Sculptor represents, in many ways, an artist's meditation on the meaning, purpose, and effects of artistic creation, McCloud never becomes aggressively sentimental or philosophical; rather, he slyly works his way into the reader's consciousness, posing questions without stating them outright and, in the process, offering a refreshingly non-pedantic take on an ancient theme.

McCloud also puts his knowledge of graphic storytelling to good use, as the artwork consistently reinforces the story's themes. The dull color palette, which relies heavily on grays and washed-out blue hues, effortlessly establishes the novel's mournful tone while subtly reinforcing the notion that nothing about its many themes is black and white. Occupying the dual roles of writer and illustrator, McCloud utilizes innovative layouts that help guide the reader without overburdening the book with unnecessary words. That one character, for example, often finds herself outside of thick panel boundaries effortlessly illustrates something profound about her personality and her impact on the other characters. Though some of the art can revert to the simplistic side of the spectrum, particularly in large-scale set pieces, The Sculptor contains the most powerful image I have encountered in a graphic novel, splayed clay perfectly capturing the dynamic moment where the artist, having made a pact with personified Death, first fully embraces his newfound ability to mold the physical world exactly to his wishes.

The temptation may be great to treat all Faust stories with the same moralistic touch, but McCloud uses the main architecture of his plot as a springboard, eschewing the usual questions for philosophical explorations of the meaning of art and creation. The book carries with it a certain inherent poignancy, enjoyable on many different levels of intellectual and emotional engagement; I even enjoyed the somewhat ambiguous ending, which lingered far beyond the final page and still haunts me. The book works on its literary and artistic levels, embodying McCloud's esteem for the graphic novel on every single page; here is an artist devoted to his craft, his passion evident in the book's story, art, and themes. The Sculptor provides a compelling vision of the power of graphic storytelling and should appeal to longtime fans and newcomers who are intrigued by the genre's many possibilities.

Grade: A

Book 2: The Master and Margarita

The Master and Margarita
Mikhail Bulgakov

It's not quite fantasy, it's not quite revisionist history, it's not quite a Faust story, and, well, it definitely is a satire, but The Master and Margarita is one novel that defies most attempts to categorize it and, perhaps to a lesser degree, to fully comprehend its nuances. Though the prose reads fluently (and here the work of translators Diana Burgin and Katherine Tiernan O'Connor must be commended, because they are nearly invisible, in a good way), the story occasionally stops and stutters, and it's probably best to sit back and let the narrative flow by on a first read. The quick interchanges between modern Russia and ancient Judea make some sense within the greater context of the book, but though the transitional sentences are well-woven into modern Moscow, everything comes crashing down when the two inexplicably meet toward the end of the novel. Strangely, however, despite the apparent difficulty of grasping the true Greater Meaning of the book, particularly given the layers of symbolism necessary to even consider writing a political satire in Soviet Russia, The Master and Margarita is an enjoyable novel, and achieves a balance between pretentious layers of inaccessibility, the slapstick antics of the Devil's cohort, clever jabs at Stalin's government, and a welcome realistic revisiting of the death of Jesus. Everything may not need to tie in perfectly, after all, and though some of the more fantastic elements and, indeed, the story of Margarita and the Master, may not seem to quite fit in, the chaos somehow holds together. We open with two Muscovites musing over the existence of Satan with the Devil himself, here slickly and convincingly portrayed as a sly sort of gentleman, part prankster, part high society, and part tired older man. Soon enough, he has announced himself through his own antics and those of his supporting cast of troublemakers, consistently amusing if a bit repetitive, and everything dissolves into surreal landscapes and an even odder plot, which is roughly when Margarita and the Faust motif appear. Throw in Pontius Pilate and the plot is a mix of disparate elements; yet, impossibly, the novel seems to work.

n some ways, it doesn't and it won't for many readers; this is the kind of book that makes it obvious that readers are missing several crucial pieces of information or levels of understanding, but it somehow manages to play to audiences at varying levels of comprehension, and if one can gloss over the parts that make the eyes gloss over, the book is incredibly rewarding. First and foremost, that Bulgakov even managed to write the book is a miracle of no small proportions, coming as it did in the midst of Stalin's notorious Purges, when the author was well-known to the dictator as a subversive. And the author conveniently displays as much talent as bravado, creating a Pontius Pilate subplot that is poignant among a backdrop of hellion arsonists and bizarre balls that somehow become more than simply silly. Likewise, there is a very real undercurrent of direct confrontation against the Soviet system, and it repeatedly bubbles to the surface in scenes such as a remarkable dream inside a theater that foretells with startling accuracy some of the horrors of Auschwitz and the German concentration camps. Yet life in the USSR carried on, and as foreign currency shops and speculators are ruthlessly parodied and subtly criticized, the novel exposes the very human reality of 1930s Moscow, complete with its schemers, frustrated artists, and those trying to just get by. For a novel that dabbles so much in the surreal, The Master and Margarita remains remarkably accessible, anchored by the realistic retelling of the death of Christ that may or may not be pivotal to, and connect with, its umbrella stories of the Devil in Moscow and Margarita's subverted Faust bargain for the Master.

Grade: A-

Book 4: Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and Other Stories

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and Other Stories
Robert Louis Stevenson

I find it difficult to believe that I have never before read "The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde", and am already so familiar with it due to cultural saturation that the experience of reading it was rather sublime at times. Unfortunately, I could never look upon the story with entirely new eyes and read it with its eventual revelation effectively spoiled. Nonetheless, the novella is a powerful piece, an interesting and original parable about the evil that lies within each of us. The best thing about the story is the fact that while it is undoubtedly an allegory it never feels too heavy or overbearing and is always internally interesting. Readers are drawn in immediately, towards the climax of Dr. Jekyll's unfortunate situation, and an inventive narrative structure of backwards revelations keeps the surprises coming as the story unfolds. Stevenson manages to take one of the most famous tropes in English literature and develop it in an interesting, ambiguous, and timeless way- of course we accept the fundamental divide between good and evil within us, but Stevenson takes this metaphorical split onto the literal plane and mixes in a bit of science fiction to create a provoking and unrelentingly dark tale. There are no compromises and Stevenson pulls no unnecessary punches; "The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" is an original tale that echoes seamlessly past its own time frame and dives fearlessly and subtly into the human psyche.

The other stories selected for this book are "The Bottle Imp", "Markheim", and "The Body-Snatcher", each of which have their merits and fit in well with the fundamental good/evil divide explored in "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde". The first is an original re-telling of the typical genie story that has an interesting Faustian twist that speaks effectively to the possibilities of ultimate love, sacrifice, and selfishness. Despite an ending that seems a bit unfulfilled and a little too cheery given the tone of the rest of the story and its predecessor in this volume, "The Bottle Imp" is an original and enlightening take on a traditional narrative that should please any readers interested in Faust bargains. "Markheim" is a quick psychological thriller that effectively, though clumsily at times, speaks to the division of good and evil within one human being, though in a qutie a different way than "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde". It has a bit of a twist ending that is powerful though a bit too strident to be entirely effective- I assume it would hold more weight to its own contemporary audience. The last story in this particular grouping, "The Body-Snatcher", is a well-written pure horror story that employs an interesting front-nested narrative structure that frames the story rather well. Stevenson knows how to inject a sense of mystery throughout the entire story by clouding the reasons behind its opening tumultuous exhchange and again proves his knack of a well-structured story by ending absoulutely perfectly.

Throughout these four stories, it is clear that Stevenson is interested in the ways that good and evil impulses interact and affect us as we deal with them; he takes four very distinct approaches and draws no single conclusion. Each story comes to a vastly different ending in regards to its outlook on human nature, and none feel overly contrived or overwhelmingly thematic. Stevenson allows for a little fantasy in these stories and it serves him quite well, allowing him to explore humanity in a much more real way than much purely realistic fiction can. These stories never stray too far beyond the realm of possibility to stretch credulity and as a result form a powerful testament to our power to confront and deal with the evil that lies within each of us. Stevenson refreshingly abstains from becoming overly didactic (save in "Markheim") and knows exactly how to let a story form, develop, end, and, most importantly, breathe. His worlds simply exist without being at all overwrought (again, Mr. Markheim proves the exception with a disappointing final speech) and subtly explore darker themes without annoying moralizing. Robert Louis Stevenson proves himself immensely interested in the depths of the human psyche in these stories and approaches it with a depth of understanding that can only be appreciated by all-too-human readers. These stories are intellectually engaging and, more importantly, enjoyable and well-written and definitely deserve a look. "The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" has certainly earned its place among the classics of English literature.

Grade: A