Towards the end of the novel, when Alison is in college, she and her dad strike up this quasi-relationship built on their mutual interest (or, his interest and her assignment) of a number of popular novels. This”relationship” struck me as very odd. In fact, I put “relationship” in quotation marks because I’m not sure if that’s what you’d call it.

As Alison grew up, she and her dad had nothing in common. He wanted her to dress a certain way she didn’t like, she hated his hyper-controlling nature that loomed over the house. They would later find out that they had a connection of sorts in both being homosexuals, but that didn’t prove to be something they really grasped at to strengthen their relationship. So, they bonded (sorta) over books. Even during this bonding, Bruce continues to be the over-bearing father (“You damn well better identify with every page”). Alison continues to feel oppressed by his controlling ways (“His excitement left little room for my own…by the end of the year I was suffocating”). 

Even during this newfound connection that bridged (you know, one of those shaky, rope bridges over top of a lava pit) the huge gap that was Ali and Bruce’s relationship, their foundation as father and daughter never really changed.

Respondents: Do you think there was ever a chance for Alison and Dad? Does anyone believe that there was more of an emotional connection during this period…something I missed?

I have to say that I disagree with your perception of Fun Home.  As an avaricious reader, not only do I welcome lofty literary references, but I don’t mind, no, enjoy finding out about new writers and books through references made in whatever material I’m digesting.  I’m also an English major, so I fit into your imagined demographic of who would like this book. I don’t think that Bechdel used these references superficially, every reference had a purpose within the story. The Importance of Being Earnest is glaringly symbolic in regards to her father’s secret life. The Albert Camus references are integral to dissecting the anatomy of suicide. I don’t think the author went in circles in her repeated anaylsis. I don’t think that she could concretely say who her father was and what he intended the day that he stepped in front of that Sunbeam truck. I think that her perception probably changes everytime she runs the memories through her head, it’s never the same story twice. She’s examining the fluid quality of her memories, what she recalls versus what she wrote in her diary, her memories of her father and her mother’s revelations. Bechdel won me over with her courageous honesty and sense of humor. She is more “real” to me than the other authors and auto-biographies that we explored in this course. The list as requested:

Favorite: Jimmy Corrigan- This has become one of my favorite books I have ever read. The language is absolute poetry, go back and check out  the segment of his grandfather (as young Jimmy) snuffing out his oil lamp at bedtime, or the part where he askes his mother if she’ll recognize him in Heaven. I LOVE how all the components wrap up together, and the ending is perfect. Yes, I said it. Perfect. (I’m pretty sure I am totally alone on this one.)

2. Maus- the story just doesn’t let you go, and the author’s conflict with his father is relatable to anyone with parents.

3. Fun Home- see above

4. Watchmen- Loved the art, the story, the twist at the end, the alternate history/reality, loved Rorschach. I think this needs to be judged on it’s own merits, completely aside from the movie.

5. Uzumaki- remarkably original, genuinely creepy and I loved the artwork. I had never read manga before reading this and I’m actually checking out horror manga now.

6. The Dark Knight Returns- This got me into superhero comics/graphic novels. I loved the grit and I’m a sucker for anti-heroes, so I loved Frank Miller’s portrayal of Batman (“the goddamn Batman”.) I agree, the artwork is  beautiful.

7. In My Darkest Hour– I liked this because it actually drew me in despite the fact that I loathed the main character. I was fascinated by what a cockroach Omar is and I thought the story was told in an interesting way- hints being dropped through emails, notes, photographs. I like bizarre, original, artwork so I appreciated the grotesque collages. I didn’t find the story non-sensical at all, I think it follows a  linear path.

8. American Born Chinese– this book is totally entertaining and a fun read, but I don’t feel that Yang is making any unique or interesting statements about race and identity. Actually, the book is completely one-dimensional; rejecting your cultural identity is bad, it’s better to just be yourself. Nothing groundbreaking there. As I’ve mentioned before on Twitter, does race= cultural identity? The author seems to think so, which is pretty insulting. And there are only Asian and white kids at this school?? I would like to know how African Americans and Jewish people fit into the statements and assumptions being made in this book. I’m also not huge on Christian imagery, and the author seems to jam it into the readers face at the expense of the storyline.

9. The Complete Persepolis- this book is just a tedious read. Young Marjane is a bratty, entitled, know-it-all who transitions into a self-satisfied adult. I’m not saying the story is without value, I knew virtually nothing about this period in Iran’s history before reading the book. I have since added Waltzing with Bashir to my Netflix list.

“A Family Tragicomic” is definitely the proper title for Bechdel’s memoir. It is a fascinating journey of speculation from beginning to end. It is best described as a tragedy because Bechdel describes not only her own journey, but the presumed journey of her father as he comes to terms with his own sexuality, growing up in a time when such a thing was not talked about in a public forum. Bechdel uses the text and visuals in a very effective manner, allowing the two elements to speak to one another. On page 191 specifically, Bechdel describes the time where her and her father attend A Chorus Line. In the visuals, her and her father are depicted sitting next to each other, wide eyed and attentive to the play as one of the characters says, “One day I looked at myself in the mirror and said, “You’re fourteen years old and you’re a faggot. What are you going to do with your life?” In this next panel, Bechdel’s own narrative dialogue reads, “I did not draw a conscious parallel to my own sexuality, much less to my father’s.” Again, the visuals depict Bechdel and her father with the same wide eyed look, their gazes paralleling each other as if they are sharing a moment together of coming to terms with their sexualities. These visuals and the narrative shows how Bechdel seems to have a better relationship with her father than might have been presumed in the previous chapters. It shows how on some higher level, almost a spiritual one is where Bechdel has a more stable relationship with her father. The tragedy is that his lifestyle seems to lead to his death, leaving Bechdel to only ponder and speculate on what could have been. The novel no doubt seems to read as one possessing a therapeutic nature, as writing about a traumatic family experience helps put the past to rest by exposing a deep secret. Thus, it not only becomes Bechdel’s burden but the whole worlds to share in.

It is the end of the semester and we as a class have ended it with “Fun Home.”  I wish I could say that I had enjoyed it. Unfortunately the book was too full of literary references that went over my head and a plot that went around in circles analyzing the author’s life and relationships continuously. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t change anything about the book. I’m not saying that it should dumb itself down to accommodate me, what it amounts to is that it was just not my “thing.” It isn’t a book I would normally read, nor is it the kind of book I ever see myself reading again. But sometimes that can be a good thing, to broaden one’s mind and view; even if you hate it every step of the way. I would recommend this book to an English major or a psychology major, or maybe even a conflict analysis major.

It may have suffered in my eyes due to the poor timing of when it was being read. Reading a book that has relatively no impact on studies while juggling a multitude of papers, tests, a job, and other assignments (I myself have locked myself away for the past three days to work on an extensive paper which still has to be proofread and submitted within a couple days).

For those that decide to click that special “reply” button attached to this post, not only do I ask you to reply with your thoughts on “Fun Home,” but with your thoughts on everything else that we have read this semester. A list of what you liked most and what you liked least, and your reasoning behind your order.

1. Frank Miller,  Batman: The Dark Knight Returns (1986)
-This was my favorite out of all the books that we read. It was a good start for my transition as a film minded person to a graphic novel minded person. Using a subject matter I was very familiar with and adding an excellent story and beautiful (in its own way) artwork made this a very pleasurable read.

2. Art Spiegelman,  Maus Boxset (1986)
-While not my favorite to read, I have to say that Maus was probably the best written. The story was heart-wrenching and not only dealt with the events of the holocaust, but of those between the author and his father. Maybe I just enjoy it when stories break the forth wall from time to time, but I felt that everything was realistic (if you ignore the fact that every person was an animal) and well put together. Some people complained about the artwork in Maus, but I think that the monochromatic and shaky style adds an extra layer to this piece.

3. Gene Luen Yang,  American Born Chinese (2006)
-Sometimes, you need a break from all the gloom and doom of everything in the world, and this was the only comic that we read that provided that comic relief to an otherwise bleak list of readings. Or maybe it’s because I find racism funny.

4. Junji Ito,  Uzumaki (1998)
-Since for the class we were only required to read the first book, I am only judging the first book. It was refreshing to have a look into another culture’s drawing style and the story was rather creepy at some parts. The only reason that this book is low-ish on the list is because the first book didn’t really have an overarching story; it felt more like an anthology of short stories that all had a related theme. If you include the second and third books, this would go up at least one spot on my list as the third book really ties all of what has happened together (and having an ending is fun!)  If you did not read the second or third books, I strongly urge that you do.

5. Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons,  Watchmen (1986)
-Unfortunately, this is probably low on my list because of the movie. I just hate hearing stories that I already know. I enjoyed the differences that were in the book, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of “I already know all of this.” I still enjoyed it, but probably not as much as I could have.
On a side note, this book was actually recommended to me back in high school, but when I flipped through it, I just did not like the art style at all. I’m probably the only one that thinks that this book was just ugly, but that can make all the difference in how much something can be enjoyed.

6. Chris Ware,  Jimmy Corrigan: The Smartest Kid on Earth (2000)
-I will probably get a lot of flak for not having this closer to the very bottom of the list, but once you get past the first half and find out how it all ties together, it isn’t a half bad story. I just wish the publisher knew how to paste a book together.

7. Marjane Satrapi,  The Complete Persepolis (2000-2003)
-Here is another unfortunate victim of “already know what’s going to happen.” Having seen the movie before reading it, Persepolis was a slow read of comparing scenes to the movie (and frankly, the artwork in the movie was much better in my opinion). The other nail in this coffin is the second book of the two part series. I just plain didn’t like it and didn’t care about what was going on, but to be fair, I felt the same way for the second half of the movie version.

8. Alison Bechdel,  Fun Home: A Family Tragicomic (2006)
-As I have already stated, this book just wasn’t my kind of thing.

9. Wilfred Santiago,  In My Darkest Hour (2004)
-This was by far the worst book of the semester. It had terrible artwork, a non-sensical plot, and it suffered from D.G.A.S.S. (Don’t Give A Shit Syndrome). Maybe I didn’t give the book enough time or attention, but I just didn’t care enough to give it more time than I had to.

(For the purposes of this list, I have not included “Understanding Comics” as that book was more of a guide to comics rather than a story. Feel free to include it in your list if you feel it necessary.)

As I’ve been reading this, I’ve been wondering about what makes this a remarkable graphic novel or piece of literary text. I mean, Time made it its #1 book of the year in 2006. This is not to say that I don’t like the book! There is just a lot of text and the memoir itself seems steeped in literature. I was just wondering if this book would be the same (or better?) if it were just a straight up novel.

We had a class discussion about whether or not Jimmy Corrigan could be translated into film or novel form. The general consensus was that Jimmy was just too damn avant-garde and comic-specific to be anything other than a graphic novel. I don’t know if this is necessarily the case with Fun Home. To me, a lot of the things that Bechdel draws could also be effectively conveyed through vivid imagery (Everyone can picture that slightly creepy Dad who wears cut-off jean shorts.).  This thought then makes me wonder if the book would be as heralded as it is if it were mere novel. Is what makes it original the fact that it’s a comic book?

Bechdel’s art style is very detailed at moments, but it is still very iconic and therefore I don’t know if the drawings really help evoke the extravagant nature of her house (except maybe the last panel of p. 17). The only real function I see in the art is that it helps make the literary illusions more subtle (so she doesn’t actually have to say, “Yeah, I masturbated to Anais Nin.”) Perhaps my opinion will change once I finish the book. What do other people think? Could Fun Home function pretty well as a straight up novel?

-Nathalie L.

Clips definitely help shape who Alison Bechdel is and what she’s like. Bechdel seems very playful but also grounded and directed as far as clearly stating what her messages are in her work and why she thinks they’re important. She often relates back to her own childhood and her coming-out experience when she addresses the subject of homosexuality.

http://dykestowatchoutfor.com/blog

This is a link to Alison Bechdel’s Blog. As you’d expect it’s full of big vocab words and a sassy tone. I find it interesting because you get to see all the other projects she’s interested in, as well as what an artist does in there free time. It’s a fun place to check out if you ever want to learn more about her, her projects, and some of the vocab words you’ve missed.

As I started Fun Home, I wasn’t sure what to make of the language and allusions.  Although sometimes prone to verbiage myself (is using verbiage itself a case in point?), I felt going into the graphic novel that the vocabulary was a little excessive in some places. Who smells garbage in the summer and labels the smell “putrefaction”?   Also, whenever anyone starts name dropping Proust my entire mind shuts down.  However, I waited it out, and once Proust had passed, and the revelation of her acute childhood OCD had come into light, the specificity of the language started to have more of an impact on me.  I started to look at the language as something almost pathological, something that represents Bechdel’s obsession with her own identity, and discovering that identity.  What I mean is that Bechdel’s extremely specific word choices exhibit both an intense need for an accurate self-representation and an intense anxiety about misrepresentation.  Choosing the exact word is a way of combating the insecurity of the memories of her childhood and her relationship with her father.  Bechdel’s own pathological insecurity about her memory and the veracity of her own sense experience is clearly shown in the “I thinks” of her early diaries, not to mention the compulsive diary keeping itself.

We discussed modernism in relationship with the text, and I was still thinking about the “why” of the elaborate, highly allusive nature of many modernist texts after class.  And then I remembered that modernism arose largely as a response to World War I.  The devastation and violence of this war was almost incomprehensible in scale.  It was a global trauma without precedent, and the writers of the modernist movement sought to reframe their writing in ways that addressed the experience of living in this post-traumatic world.  In some cases, this apparently amounted to an attempt to frame contemporary experience through classical or mythical allusions, generally, as I understand it, to highlight the profundity of “modern” experience, the sense of living in a momentously new time.  In a similar way,  Alison Bechdel utilizes allusions to show how incredibly profound the effect of her father’s death and her troubled relationship with him were, especially through the image of Icarus and Daedalus.

As a random aside, I would recommend anyone interested in reading a prime example of modernist “hyper-allusiveness” and inscrutability to check out Ezra Pound’s Cantos.

Also, if you check the #eng493 feed on twitter I posted a set of literature parodies by the comic book artist R. Sikoryak, which include one of a modernist, Kafka: http://bit.ly/3tzkto. (Hint: It’s the one with the bug in the zig-zag sweater.)  And a familiar name from Bechdel, Camus:  http://bit.ly/3QUKN.  Definitely worth a look.