Graphic Scenes: The Red Sea Sharks.

Why I persist with comics and graphic novels.

What are you reading today?

I find that people often ask me for graphic novel recommendations, but frequent visitors to the KIOSK (Kiosketeers?) will know that I often allude to the fact I really don't read that many. I'm slightly embarrassed by this fact, and if I'm being completely honest (whisper it) there are very few that I actually like.

I think that the comparative smallness of the medium, puts me in a state of mind where I feel I should be championing all comics, all the time. This would never be expected in other more established mediums; ‘I like music. ALL music. All music is good.’ is an insane statement to make. But because comics are fairly low down on the graph of accepted artistic forms, it feels particularly cruel to shine a light on a what I would consider to be ‘bad’, as the medium gets enough of a kicking as it is. So, I just keep quiet. Plus, if everyone else is enjoying it, I’m happy to just think it’s another one that's ‘not for me', and that's totally fine.

The other embarrassment comes from the fact that I make them, and so this feels like a kind of betrayal. Do I not like the medium I feel most comfortable working in?! It's a possibility, for sure. The two are not necessarily linked. I love lots of music, but it doesn't make me able to create it, or even the desire to want to create it. So perhaps comics are just how my brain works best. A collection of words and images. And flawed as it is, I'm stuck with it.

I'm being a touch too extreme, but the fact is, I really struggle to recommend most graphic novels (particularly to non-converts) without some kind of caveat. Also, where do you start? To stick with the music analogy, what would you suggest someone listen to first if they had never heard any music before? There are a tiny percentage of graphic novels that I think probably everybody should be able to get something out of, but even those are not hills I'm prepared to die on.

I run a fairly tight ship as far as my bookshelves go, everything has to earn its place, or make room for something new. So, it feels like a good place to start my graphic novel self assessment – What is the reason I keep the few graphic titles I have?

As I run my finger along the spines and start to really think about it, I realise that each one contains something that makes me feel something. Frequently I wouldn't necessarily recommend the book as a whole, but there is a moment in there that works for me. Showcases something I love about the medium. It could be small or transcendent, something very practical or something completely ethereal, but they all have a scene I like.

So, that's what I'm going to try and look at, in a series of occasional newsletters that I’m provocatively calling; ‘Graphic Scenes'. I will take a scene that I like and recommended just that scene. You can enjoy it for what it is, or if you think it's for you, you can go a track down the book.

So, let's start where I started. Tintin.

The Red Sea Sharks - Herge (1958).

I don’t need to sell Tintin to anyone really, but The Red Sea Sharks is one of my favourites, and there’s a short two-page sequence that I think is amazing. Tintin and Captain Haddock are escaping on a boat when they are attacked by two mosquito aeroplanes.

The first thing is love is the economy. It’s only two pages. Two pages! Slightly less, in fact. The amount that is conveyed with so little is pure magic to me. This is true for so many moments in Tintin, with scenes I remember as long and detailed turning out to be so much leaner when I return to them. Tiny panels explode into big full-pagers in my memory, such is the skill of giving you the right details to allow the reader to fill in all the other ones.

There’s barely a full shot of either the planes or the boat where they appear as more that a speck, but that’s all part of the trick. The perspective shifts between the vulnerable ship and attacking planes are masterful, and all helping to create a sense of three dimensional space, which builds to those tall portrait panels, conveying the vastness of the sky above.

I don’t want to get too granular, you should just enjoy it for what it is without me leaching all the fun out of it, but the thing I think is most incredible is the sense of movement. The speed of the planes, the bullets whistling overhead, the shaking hand passing the gun, the swinging sail block, the juddering gun firing, and most subtly, the movement of the ship. The ever shifting horizon line, with the waves peaking over the shoulders of the characters in close ups, then disappearing completely in the next panel gives this wonderful effect of the boat pitching on the the swell. It’s so well done that you just feel it rather than notice it, but every panel is in motion. To the point where the most static panel in the sequence is the final one of the boat on fire.

Finally, I think the long thin panel with Tintin saying ‘Got him!’ is a masterpiece. It’s Herge’s ‘Whaam!' moment. Every minimal element in it is just perfect to me, and these are the fleeting moments I am chasing in comics. Both as a creator, and a consumer. When it all comes together, there’s nothing quite like it.

That’ll do for now and hopefully I’ll have another one for you when you next drop by. Until then, happy reading!

Owen D. Pomery