Berlin
This weekend I finished Berlin, the first in a series of graphic novels by the author and illustrator, Jason Lutes. As the title suggests, this book is focused on the city in its entirety and its tumult during the dying days of the Weimar Republic between World War I and World War II, and although the storyline does revolve around a core set of personalities the author uses a variety of clever devices to keep our perspective larger, on the city as a whole.
Lutes is a brilliant artist but what really propelled this book beyond the typically good graphic novel was its writing. Although each cell is a montage of feeling and visual empathy, I was constantly impressed with how it read aloud as well as any carefully crafted traditional novel.
I've debated with myself quite a bit on whether to post "quotes" from the book; without their visual accompaniment it seems a bit crass.
In the opening chapter the reader is introduced to Kurt Severing, a weathered journalist, and Marthe Müller, a young woman who is traveling from the country to study art in Berlin. Severing is a man who is painfully reconciling himself with the truth of his city: that it is being torn apart by the ideas of Marxism and socialism in a struggle with the combination of ignorance, poverty, and nihilism that make the German fascism of that time. As a writer this manifests itself in Severing through his writer's block, a sort of paralyzing disbelief at what is happening, with which he struggles for most of the book. Marthe, on the other hand, is at odds with herself in an introspective way; after the death of her younger brother she's only recently been able to bring herself to draw. Throughout the book she tries to discover what her art means to her and what makes her draw.
It seems that the struggles of the writer and the artist are close to Lutes' heart; in a recent interview he admits to having difficulty choosing to pursue writing and literature instead of art. The blurry line between writing and drawing is evident from the start: Marthe sketches on lined paper and journals in a sketchbook.
After finishing Understanding Comics earlier this year, I've paid close attention to "the gutter" in graphic novels - that is the space between frames where your mind creates a link in the narrative. Most American comics transition from "action to action" cells and hence allow the reader to put together a sequence of events. Lutes' approach is different; many of his transitions are "scene to scene" - the kind that allow your mind to construct a larger picture of a thematic place or feeling.
Reading Berlin is a reminder of the power of ideas and unrest; how they spread themselves through the edges of society into a potent force. After World War I the idea of socialism was in a violent struggle with the nihilism of right wing fascism and Lutes paints a picture of the discontent among those that have survived the first World War - a sea of veterans - returning to a crippled, desperate city. We see the narcotic fanaticism of leftist socialism championed by Rosa Luxemborg and Karl Liebknecht.
It's ambitious for Lutes to attempt a story in this context but I think it succeeds because each character of Berlin allows us to watch it unfold, rather haplessly - they are being carried by powerful currents and struggle only to stay afloat. And as the diseased unrest begins to take over they are either torn apart or pushed together.
Because it's only a first installment, it stops short of true closure. There are new issues of the Berlin series, published by Drawn and Quarterly, but I'll probably wait to feast on the second collection when it's published as a book.
10:59:04 PM 
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