The rise of
the graphic memoir or autographic is undeniable. Starting back in the 70s with
Justin Green’s Binky Brown and Harvey Pekar’s American Splendor, the formerly
belittled comics genre produced some of the most intense and critically acclaimed
memoirs of the past century. With Art Spiegelman’s Maus, a graphic novel even
won a Pulitzer Prize (admittedly the only one to date) and comics arrived in
the mainstream. It’s become virtually impossible to maintain an overview
over all the remarkable memoirs being
published each year, so we greatly rely on our fellow comic friends’
recommendations. I am recommending a book to you that is not only the story of
a single person or family but at the same time that of a whole country:
Vietnamerica. Gia Bao (GB) Tran’s graphic memoir is bristling with current
topics that can be found especially in American immigrant literature: The
feeling of being uprooted after having to flee your home country, barely coping and trying desperately to survive, coming to
another country that only very hesitantly includes you in their community.
Leaving family members behind whom you don’t hear from for years and worry
about constantly. These are only some of the feelings of Tran’s parents who had
to flee Vietnam to escape from the terror of war and the communist regime.
The
novel tells the story from the perspective of Tran himself who was born in the
US one year after his parents had arrived there and who at first felt alienated
from his Vietnamese roots and for the most part not too eager to reconnect with
his family in a country he had never visited. It was a tough choice revisiting
the pain of his family and in some way accepting the legacy. Even though Tran
didn’t experience the stories he shows and tells himself, he has a way of
drawing and writing that resonate deeply with the reader. The portrayal of his
Vietnamese family is so loving and intimate as though he knew them all his
life. At the same time he manages to maintain a certain distance from
Vietnamese customs and cultural aspects that he as an American finds unusual.
His passion for the topic and the two years of hard work that he put into it
are almost pouring out from the page. Reading about the fate of not only his
parents bus grand- and great-grand parents, about families that were torn apart
in the war, about killed relatives and abandoned children, almost breaks your
heart. On the other hand he presents incredibly strong and positive characters
like an uncle who was sent to work in a camp and still managed to preserve his
humour through all of it. The different plot knots and swirls will confuse you
at times and you will have a hard time remembering the names of all the family
members, but the story will never let you out if its grip.
The sheer beauty of
his rich and detailed artwork almost betrays the horrid scenes it depicts but
still manages to connect to something
bigger and more layered and meaningful than a sheer written account ever could.
Every panel (the box that frames every picture) and even the gutter (the blank
space between panels) are laden with meaning and significance, some splash
pages hit you like a hammer. GB Tran is most definitely and unusual talent who
also has a breathtaking story to tell: the best combination possible in a
graphic novelist. The Washington Post even went there and put Vietnamerica
right next to Spiegelman’s masterpiece: “This
will be called the MAUS for the Vietnam War, and for good reason.“
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