Pride and Prejudice and Zombies: The Graphic Novel
Jane Austen and Seth Grahame-Smith; adapted by Tony Lee and Cliff Richards. Del Rey, $14.99 (172p) ISBN 978-0-335-52068-5
What could be more zeitgeisty than the popular Jane Austen and zombie mashup written by Seth Grahame-Smith? A graphic novelization of Grahame-Smith’s creation, of course. Lee and Richards collaborate on a lively adaptation, which should appeal to edgier fans of 19th-century novels. The plot and language cleave closely to the basic outlines of Austen’s beloved tale, with the major exception that the English countryside is overrun by zombies, and the Bennett sisters are trained warriors. Elizabeth still disdains then pines for Mr. Darcy; Mr. Bennett is still as sage as his wife is daft; and Mr. Wickham is still a charming but duplicitous con man. Lovers of the novel will delight at the clever ways in which the zombie interludes tweak the well-known elements of the tale, although the story will make little sense to those not familiar with Austen. Artist Richards unfortunately makes all the Bennett sisters look like Barbies, with Elizabeth’s lips looking as if they were pumped full of silicone; there are also some unnecessary flashes of Elizabeth’s garters and thigh-high stockings. But the action sequences are dynamic, the English manors are lovely, and the zombies appropriately gory. (May)
Mr. Mendoza’s Paintbrush
Luis Alberto Urrea and Christopher Cardinale. Cinco Punto (www.cincopuntos.com), $17.95 paper (64p) ISBN 978-1-933693-23-1
This lovely comics adaptation of a short story by major Latino writer Urrea may have found the ideal way to present magical realism graphically. As a boy growing up in the little town of Rosario, the narrator observes things in the natural world around him wonderfully ripening, but he also catches glimpses of marvelous forces that intrude into mundane life. Mr. Mendoza, meanwhile, is offended by the small-minded pomp and hypocrisy of the townspeople and posts his observations in sometimes scathing, sometimes enigmatic graffiti written on objects, animals, and people. Cardinale presents this in a mixture of crosshatching and scratchboard style that makes each panel resemble a static woodcut—but one that interacts dynamically with surrounding action. The scenes look only temporarily solid, an especially appropriate condition for the story’s conclusion, when Mendoza abandons the town by climbing steps he draws in the air. A different level of “realism” in the art wouldn’t have maintained the ambiguity that makes the tale’s magic so hauntingly effective. (May)
On the Odd Hours
Eric Liberge. NBM/ComicsLit, $14.95 paper (72p) ISBN 978-1-56163-577-1
This French work is third in a series of graphic novels (after Glacial Period and Museum Vaults) commissioned by the Louvre to tell stories about the museum and its works. The plot in this one is more approachable than the others, but it doesn’t fully satisfy its ambitious premise. Bastien goes to the Louvre for an internship, but instead, he’s selected by an older guard for a special night duty. They’re both hearing-impaired, and that enables them to use percussion instruments to wake the art. There’s an attempted underlying message about how it is necessary to interact with art, not just stare at it, in order for it to truly live, but it’s dropped on the reader flatly without being executed through the comic story. Bastien is angry without explanation or development, making him difficult to understand or relate to, although the detailed art is excellent. Of particular note is the unique choice of a deaf protagonist—some of the best sequences in the book are those where he is drawn communicating through sign language, speed lines showing the rapid hand movement and sprawling long balloon tails reaching to the translations. The faded coloring gives the work the feel of a classic and pulls the reader in, forcing more attention to the images. (Apr.)
