I’ve been thinking about our discussion last week in regards to whether Baker’s graphic novel (and, more broadly, the medium in general) should be considered literature or not. And I think that’s the wrong question to ask. As teachers, our job is to teach, not to teach an appreciation and ability to read in a meaningful way, not to teach only what is considered “literature”. The graphic medium is not a collection of words, beautifully arranged to created meaning; there’s no arguing with that. But it is (ideally, at least) a collection of images arranged in such a way that the whole has greater meaning than any of its parts.
The root of the problem, as I see it, is that we can’t help but compare a graphic novel to a text novel. By the standards of pure prose, the graphic novel falls short, and always will. But this is holding it to the standards of a completely different medium. The same thing occurs any time a book gets adapted into a film: those of us (myself included) who loved the book, complain that the movie doesn’t do it justice, that such and such scene got left on the cutting room floor, that such and such actor was not the right choice for the role. Film cannot do the same things that text on the page can, and it’s unrealistic to expect it to.
The same goes for the graphic novel. It cannot do the same things that text alone can, and holding it to the same standards is unfair. But, just as film is capable of any number of things that are nearly impossible in a novel, the form of the graphic novel is capable of things that neither text alone nor film can accomplish. Inner monologue often gets lost in the move from page to screen, but the graphic novel is capable of conveying a character’s thoughts in a straightforward manner. Within a novel, keeping track of a massive cast can be difficult (thanks, Charles Dickens!), but in a more visual medium those distinctions can be made far more clearly.
Sequential art has its own intrinsic language; one that requires a different approach than the prose novel. On it’s own merits, Nat Turner presents a number of questions and issues that could also be raised by a prose narrative (but are not necessarily present in the Confessions), or by a film concerning the same events. But the way in which the story is told, the technique and convention of each of these forms brings with it a set of benefits and limitations. Was this the best form for the story of Nat Turner? I’m not sure it was, but Kyle Baker seems to have thought so, and has done a wonderful job of crafting the narrative in his chosen form.