‘In heaven, opportunity costs,’ wrote Kaveh Akbar in his poem The Palace. It is the concept of martyrdom, that sacrifices must be made—the laying down‘In heaven, opportunity costs,’ wrote Kaveh Akbar in his poem The Palace. It is the concept of martyrdom, that sacrifices must be made—the laying down of one’s life for a cause—but in exchange is eternal glory. It is also the existential question at the heart of Martyr!, Akbar’s debut novel, as the young Cyrus’ journey towards sobriety is also an internal quest to consider how one’s own death might serve to better illuminate a life now given in sacrifice. For a book about death, depression and an aching for understanding, it never feels downbeat as Akbar uplifts the wandering narrative with wry humor and whimsicality and a sense that, in the grand scheme of things, grace outshines the bleakness of rage. It is an ambitious and multifaceted work where not every element quite sticks the landing, though in keeping with the sense of grace, these aspects are easily overlooked by the power and beauty of the whole. As intricate and layered as his poetry, Akbar’s Martyr! and Cyrus’ searing self-journey is an excellent existential investigation into addiction in the face of mental health, identity in the face of history, and life and legacy in the face of death.
‘I just want to write an epic. A book. Something about secular, pacifist martyrs. People who gave their lives to something larger than themselves. No swords in their hands.’
Kaveh Akbar has emerged as an icon of modern poetry in recent years. His first full-length collection, Calling a Wolf a Wolf (a book that, like Martyr! deals heavily into addiction and the struggles towards sobriety), completely floored me when it came out and I ended up rebuying it twice after being so insistent someone read it that I’d give them my copy. Beyond his own poetry, Akbar has been such a shining light of advocacy for modern poetry, founding Divedapper as a home for modern poets to interview each other and share their voices, writing the weekly column Poetry RX for The Paris Review, and publishing his recent anthology The Penguin Book of Spiritual Verse: 110 Poets on the Divine. Here we have Cyrus also compiling an anthology of sorts, spending the duration of the novel on his “The Book of Martyrs” of ‘people who at least tried to make their deaths mean something.’ He too, hopes to become a martyr for art and complete the work with his own suicide.
Akbar’s grounding in poetry shines even in this first long-form fictional release with a narrative that isn’t directionless, persay, but wanders into various narratives, mingles with history to crack it open and extract ‘the hidden voice’ inside, or occasionally diverts into abstraction. It reads as less confined as a typical novel and more in the boundless freedom of a poetry, though the habit of often remaining in metaphorical language and cashing in on frequent references works better in his poetry than prose. Still, I enjoy the frequent insertions of Cyrus’ documents or poems and quotes from real news articles to better fold the historical elements into the work.
This was a deeply moving work. Akbar taps into dark territory to present it with a lightness of humor and grace that bears the fingerprints of having been there themselves. The way something dark can be spoken of with a laugh that isn’t barbed with offense to those who experience it but instead a laugh in the face of it, because you’ve confronted it, locked eyes, and survived. For the sake of sensitivity, readers should know that this deals heavily in themes of depression and suicide, but I found it to be profoundly moving. It also felt familiar. Cyrus reads like a lot of people I’ve known, the sad art types, the sort of people I’ve often been especially when I was 19 of 20 and grappling with darkness myself. The sort of darkness that pushes a lot of people into drink, drugs and poetry like Cyrus. It can be difficult to read at times.
‘ What formed in Cyrus's mind was a blunt and inarticulable plea to be done, for a reprieve from navigating what had become to him an unnavigable world, to not have to spend the next decade or decades unraveling what it all meant, had meant, would mean. The anger he felt at his mother. The vanished. The abandoner. But, also, the pride he felt for her, now. The great artist. It was too much. He prayed for an end to the tyranny of all symbols, beginning with language…
He understood, with a clarity that had until that moment in his life eluded him, that he was not at all made for the world in which he lived, that art and writing had gotten him only trivially closer to compensating for that fundamental detectiveness, the way standing on a roof gets one only trivially closer to grabbing the moon than standing in the dirt.’
It’s the sort of introspective work that reminds you of hard times, the ones you might try to make art out of. The kind that finds you pleading with yourself internally, ‘ forming a prayer not exactly in language.’ What really works is that, for having a lot of universiality, it is also highly specific and culturally informed. It’s something many can relate to, but also respect as not their own and an opportunity to listen and learn. I really appreciate Akbar for sharing it with us all.
‘To say no to a new day would be unthinkable. So each morning you said yes, then stepped into the consequence.’
Family and identity play a large role here and are often looked at in context of the history of conflict. Cyrus’ mother was killed in the real-life murder of Iranian Flight 655 when the US navy launched missels at the passanger aircraft in 1988. All aboard were killed yet Cyrus escaped the disaster as he was left behind for being deemed too young for the flight. Quite a heavy burden to bear while watching one’s father sink into alcoholism and dead-end labor in the aftermath, all but inevitably leading to Cyrus’ own struggles with addiction. Elements such as this and the martyrs of Cyrus’ book help situate the novel in the now and help give a historical stage for his family martyrdom such as his uncle dressed as the Angel of Death in battle as a martyr for a national cause.Though some of the more surreal, imagined moments in history felt a bit awkward, I was charmed by the ambitiousness of them.
‘Grace, that dictionary. A place where everything was attached to a meaning.’
Through Cyrus we also get an interesting exploration into identity, not being between both Persian and American identities but both at once. This sort of duality is thematic to the novel with Cyrus feeling both grace and rage at once.
‘But that's a misunderstanding of grace, which doesn't ask to be paid back. Even when you ve been given the gift twice, emerged from your own death to run away from your husband. Leaving him to grieve you, to raise your child by himself.’
Grace and forgiveness are key to the novel, grace that Cyrus was able to live, ‘grace that the man—the boy, reall—at the border accepted my bribe,’ or even grace in language, the medium through which Cyrus works now that his job as a hospital actor is over.
‘When I learned how to say "cigarette," I walked around saying it to myself like a prayer, like an incantation. see-GARR-ett. It was my favorite word. If I walked up to someone and said it, one time in every five they'd hand me one. Language could make a meal like that.’
The novel moves to New York City when Cyrus discovers Iranian-American artist Orkideh who also plans to use death as an artistic medium. Martyr!, at its heart, is an exploration of ‘the big pathological sad,’ or the ways that we all are ‘just a long emptiness, waiting to be filled,’ as Cyrus recounts from an old Muslim tale. This book is less about the emptiness, however, than it is about how we fill it. Cyrus had filled it with alcohol and found himself still empty. Now his life has shaped into a quest to understand that which, as Orkideh quips, has led him to grapple with all the Persian checkboxes of death, of poetry and an awe of mysticism. Like the form of the novel Martyr! itself, this is a journey with no defined shape and this often makes the soul-searching feel directionless, subjective, and highly existential.
‘This idea for the book, for his own dying going into the museum he'd had a grasp of its shape, why it mattered. It was a tidy, gallant idea about leaving life for something larger than mere living. Becoming an earth martyr. It made sense, and then suddenly it didn't. It held a shape and then suddenly it didn't.’
I suspect the term navel-gazing will appear in the criticisms of this book, but I happen to like that sort of thing in a novel. I also enjoy the way this felt like an expression of poetry but as a novel. Akbar plays with familiar territory for those who have read his poetry but takes it in bold and exciting directions and Martyr! makes for a darkly humorous read that asks a lot of big questions that, though they may not always arrive at conclusive answers, reminds us that the quest for knowledge is fulfilling in its own right. May we all find something to fill that emptiness.
4/5
'A photograph can say 'this is what it was.' Language can only say 'this is what it was like.''...more
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The Impending Blindness of Billie Scott is a Must-Read Did I stay up way too late reading this in one sitting as I could not put it down? YE
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The Impending Blindness of Billie Scott is a Must-Read Did I stay up way too late reading this in one sitting as I could not put it down? YEP. Is Zoe Thorogood the future of comics? Yea, probably? Weird question, sorry, why would I ask that. Oh, it’s because everything Thorogood does is so goddamn engrossing that I just want to shout about it to everyone. Which I have been doing at the bookstore anytime someone so much as glances at the graphic novel section. But for real, The Impending Blindness of Billie Scott from Zoe Thorogood is a delight. We follow runaway artist Billie who, on the cusp of their big break with a gallery showing, is the victim of random violence that leaves her going blind. With only weeks before her eyesight is gone, she sets out to make 10 portraits and keep her artistic dreams alive, facing the cruelty of living on the streets but having meaningful conversations and making lasting friends along the way. This is a moving story, with lots of ups and downs and emotional grit that really sinks its claws into you. Like the way a cat will climb up your leg and you think “ow!” but then “aw” because it snuggles up in your lap and you love cats. This book is like if that cat was art, all brought to life through Thorogood’s incredible artwork and humor.
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There is so much to love here. The characters are so endearing, and not just the socially anxious artist Billie who is so easy to love and empathize with, but this features some fantastic side characters like Arthur, determined to embrace the failures of his past and directing it towards help others, and of course Rachel West, unhoused but determined to become a music star and buy back the coffee shop her deceased dad once owned. I really appreciated the empathetic approach to unhoused people. This is a really empowering story with a lot of lovely things to say about art, determination, that your ‘work does not define you,’ and it is also a beautiful plea to keep creating. It is a moving look at the power of art juxtaposed with the hardships of life and a reminder that kindness and support helps those around you flourish. It also has such a cute story of friendship that blossoms into something more. Yay!
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The cast of characters via Billie Scott’s artwork
But we need to talk about Thorogood’s art, because it is extraordinary. I love the muted palette here, with highlights of just dull reds, yellow and blue on ink drawings that have a really gritty vibe and brings the urban settings to life. Her character designs are wonderful, which is key for a book about painting portraits. I mean, this feels so much like existing in an artist’s mind and works, something you feel very aware of at all times in a good way. Thorogood has great dialogue too, and for a book that can have fairly text-heavy panels, it never feels like too much and larger, full-page cells make dynamic use of the space, directing your eyes to swirl down the page following the dialogue in a really creative and engaging way. It is also very self-conscious in a way that is effective and charming—this book has so much personality. I love the publication as an oversized book, it really lets you plunge into the artwork and just feels cool as hell to hold. Like, hell yes I’m reading this amazing graphic novel, and you should too. Plus she can break into some excellent surreal nightmares here, something that she captures quite well in her later book, It's Lonely at the Centre of the Earth.
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Creepy cool
I can’t recommend The Impending Blindness of Billie Scott enough and was very impressed and moved by it. Sure, there’s probably some criticism to make but fuck that because this is just too great. I also highly recommend It's Lonely at the Centre of the Earth, which feels like a more matured art direction but not in a way where this doesn’t feel mature, that book just does magic with visual storytelling. Thorogood is spot of with pacing, the use of frames really pushes the story along but gives it room to breathe, and it is just a visual extravaganza. Read all the Thorogood, I’m very excited to follow her career. And, as Billie says ‘just create, never stop creating.’
Art is a form of communication with the world, an expression of ideas, a reaction to the world around you. The PLAIN Janes b Cecil Castelucci and illustrated by Jim Rugg is a fantastic discussion on the importance of art in our lives and of the conversations that occur around it. It is also very dear to me on a number of levels. Just a quick flip through this book told me I needed to read it: street art, police opposition and censorship, female empowerment, trying to make something beautiful in a frightening world...everything I wanted to read. Particularly the discussions around the tone policing of art in a public sphere the impetuses of creating public art, especially since my own artistic endeavors came under scrutiny of the local authorities….but more on that in a bit. This edition collects the complete three volumes, the first two published in 2007 and 2008 and then the third finally arriving in 2020. While the second volume--Janes in Love--wraps up the story to some extent, the third volume really brings the message of their art to question amidst the natural breakdown of teenage friend circles and feels like a more fulfilling conclusion to the whole story instead of tacked on. The story follows Jane--Main Jane--as she forms an art coalition of friends (all named Jane) in an effort to bring art to their town through pop-up installation work over the course of their high school years. Their attempts are met with both support and backlash--particularly from the local police--and the three volumes chronicle the ways their art and friendships change with the times and how they overcome the obstacles that befall them. From under-cover-of-night street artists to a City-sanctioned art coalition with a grant to fund their work, PLAIN Janes takes a hard look at how the message of art is altered by the conditions in which it is made as well as how the creative spirit can thrive in the face of adversity. A really beautiful portrait of friendship and perseverance, The PLAIN Janes is as moving as it is inspirational and thought provoking through its messages about artistic expression, individuality, finding your own way in the world and--most importantly--standing up for what you believe in an attempt to recraft the world in a better way.
The story begins with Main Jane living in Metro City and surviving a bombing at a local cafe. Her parents flee the city to a quiet community out of fear and Jane finds herself displaced. Despite being openly welcomed by the popular crowd, Jane shrugs them off hoping to find a new start without any pretenses and forces her way into the “uncool” table at lunch--three girls all named Jane who are social outcasts. We meet Theater Jane, Brian Jane and Sporty Jane, who, along with James (the solitary member of the school’s Gay Club), are brought into a close friendship by Main Jane’s enthusiasm for public art. While initially caricatures for their individual social standings and a bit flat--Theater Jane constantly quotes famous authors and is dramatic, Brain Jane quips about the mathematical beauty in music, Sporty Jane….well she just wants to get off the bench and actually play--Castellucci slowly grows each character into multi-dimensional personalities that make up a fairly authentic teenage social group (and who isn’t sort of a caricature of themselvesx at that age anyways with all the posturing and effort to be an individual?). The books mature along with the characters, as well, being more nuanced with their personalities (initially they all seemed a bit too cookie-cutter these-are-the-attractive-people but volume two briefly explores body image issues in a pretty productive and empowering way) as well as the themes as it goes along. Through the three books we see them come close together as friends, support each other, find romantic relationships and then, inevitably, begin to go their own ways as they blossom into themselves as Seniors who are planning ahead to their next phase in life.
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Main Jane has PTSD from her brush with death and the news is filled with existential threats of violence from bombings to anthrax and school shootings (this is set closly after 9/11 but does not stoop to presenting a fear of foreigners though in the whole conversation about the treatment towards “outsiders” it would have been nice to see a conversation about race occur. There are a variety of races depicted in the book but the book stays fairly white and never discusses race). Amidst the attack she finds a notebook with “ART SAVES” written on the cover next to an unconscious young man, whom she visits in the hospital while he is in a coma and continues to write to him. John Doe eventually wakes up and goes back to his home in Poland, but their correspondence continues throughout all three volumes and serves a narrational purpose exposing her inner thoughts. The words on the notebook have inspired her and she uses it to plot out public artworks that she and her friends leave about the city under the name of P.L.A.I.N. (People Loving Art In Neighborhoods).
First they ignore you, then they laugh at you, then they fight you, the you win. -Ganhdi
The project is loved by peers, who don’t know who is doing it, but the local police do not like it. Cue the narrative about under cover art attacks, police enforcement, conversations about if street art is vandalism or not, etc. One thing that this book does very well is present a wide variety of really cute and cool street art ideas from installation pieces to yarn bombing (yes, yarn boming is a real form of graffitti). Unfortunately, aside from referencing the Dadaists, there is little to no mention of actual street artists which could have been a great jumping off point for readers to learn more about street art and the artists that inspired this book. Central to PLAIN is Jane’s desire to present the world in a beautiful way, as a reaction to the terror and violence in the world. The random “art attacks” are a direct contrast to the bombing she experienced. When met with resistance, Jane perseveres not only for her friends and for her art, but because the resistance in a way is to her belief in beauty that keeps her going. We witness her mother so afraid of the world that she refuses to leave the house, and Jane just wants to remind people of the good in the world and in coming together (such as a city-wide dance party they organize inspired by the Case of the Meowing Nuns as a reaction to curfews). PLAIN Janes is adorable and heartfelt when dealing with interpersonal relationships (this is a really positive book for teens) but is best when it comes to conversations on art, which is the predominant theme in the series.
I personally empathized with their plight and really enjoyed the arguments in favor of public installations as art instead of vandalism. For the past four years I’ve had my own public art project consisting of leaving poems behind on trees wherever I go. As with Main Jane, my art idea accrued in reaction to the world and emotional state around me. At the time it began I was a delivery driver going around the midwest, staying overnight out of town, spending long days on the road. It was a lonely existence for awhile. I read a lot of poetry on breaks in my delivery van and would leave ones that touched me on trees as a sort of beacon to people who might also need them. An “I was here” so to speak. I wanted people to stumble upon poetry in nature and maybe think about poetry for just a moment of their day. I created an instagram account (follow me or take a look at @poe_a_tree on instagram) and wrote my anonymous handle on the poems so people could tag them and I could see if people found them. Turns out a lot of people did. With the help of a very good friend who also joined in for awhile, we came up with the idea to add art to them to catch people’s attention. I began practicing with oil pastels and started creating large works of art for each snippet of poetry and began going out at night and leaving them throughout the local campus and downtown--my own “art attacks” like the Janes.
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I’ve met so many wonderful people this way, including my partner, and it was amazing to overhear people talk about it or tell me about it because I was completely anonymous. After 3 years, the city declared it vandalism and sent a cease and desist order to my account with the threat of arrest and fine. Like the Janes, I was caught and punishment awaited. But, as the Janes learn, art can inspire a community. I had posted the letter onto my accounts and was flooded with messages encouraging me. Within a few hours the local paper contacted me and businesses’ started to contact me asking for a PoeATree post for their store. You can read about it here from the local paper, or, read and watch the regional news story about it. I’ve kept at it, having been given permission to continue on the local campus and in several stores. They even ran a follow-up article. So reading The PLAIN Janes came at a good time for me, especially the third part.
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In Volume 3, the Janes have their own city sanctioned art space but are beginning to feel like it is state. Jane goes to France to study art with the girlfriend of her penpal and while she is gone everyone goes their own way. Enter a nemesis. A new girl in school arrives fronting a punk band and bold ideas for public art, mocking the Jane’s “corporate” art project and their insistence on staying within legal boundaries. Jane wants art to comfort, Pain (okay, the names in this book aren’t exactly stretching creativity) wants art to shock. It’s a perfect final act with the two debating while also learning from each other that leads to an incredibly moving conclusion when Jane realizes taking a stand can be a form of artistic expression. Written 11 years after the second volume, the third act builds on the fears in the world from the previous two while also adding a message about the necessity of resistance. This brings to mind Czesław Miłosz’s book The Captive Mind about how authoritarianism squashes the creative mind either by eliminating it or forcing it to create Party propaganda. Pain directly confronts the police art bans and while the message of direct action is built up throughout the first two volumes, it speaks loudest and most eloquently in the final act. ‘All art is political’ Jane yells at the police officer near the end. I am inclined to agree. ‘All good art is political!’ says the immortal Toni Morrison, ‘There is none that isn’t. And the ones that try hard not to be political are political by saying, ‘We love the status quo.’’ To not be political is, in effect, a political statement. Morrison adds that ‘We’ve just dirtied the word ‘politics,’ made it sound like it’s unpatriotic or something,’ as any statement of expression made into the world has some form of belief behind it. Even wanting to show beauty in the face of fear, Jane discovers, is a statement and direct action is the best way to make that statement heard.
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This book is sheer enjoyment and fun but also deals with some deep themes along the way. The artwork is engaging, the voices are fun and nuanced, and the message is pure gold. I loved The PLAIN Janes and it really inspired me to think about my own artwork. Since reading this book I’ve experimented around a lot and I am really excited about some new projects I have brewing (I’ve already built a homemade projector and am projecting poems onto the sides of buildings for short periods). While it may occasionally dip into cliche and takes a bit for the characters to come to life the flaws are hardly any deterrent to the fun. Let PLAIN Janes inspire you as much as it did me. ⅘ [image]...more
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