Tag Archives: Australia

Orientation in “The Arrival” – paths of the past and the future

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Photo albums combine immediate proximity and boundless distance. They are tangibly close, but suggest an intangible vastness. Photo albums are timeless and yet they capture a concrete time. At the same time, they recall a past, a snapshot that awakens a memory, but are seen through the eyes of the present. A photo album is able to tell a story that depicts the past and foreshadows a future, a future that one seemingly inhabits whilst viewing the album. Photographs are silent, yet they express numerous characteristics. Although they may appear highly specific, the observer perhaps lacks the context that memory has lost, allowing only fragments to be grasped.

Figure 1

Shaun Tan, author of the graphic novel The Arrival, asserts that photo albums “inspire[es] memory and urg[e] us to fill in the silent gaps, animating them with the addition of our own storyline” (Essays – Strange Migrations – Shaun Tan). Originally planning a picture book in which an elderly migrant reflects on his past experiences, Tan discarded this idea in favour of a silent protagonist who migrates to a distant, new and distant place with fantastical attributes (Ling 46-47). Whilst the sepia tones are the main feature to allude to the nature of old photographs, the foreign land involves Tan’s own interest to “depict figures in alienating landscapes” in his illustrations (45), as well as a presumably autobiographical related curiosity. As Tan writes on his website, the alienated place where he spent his childhood gave him “a feeling of being somewhere and nowhere at the same time” (Essays – Strange Migrations – Shaun Tan).

Given the seemingly opposed yet unitary nature of a photo album’s ability to evoke a sense of a liminal place, of the old and the new, of the then and the now, of the silent and the speaking, Tan’s wordless graphic novel The Arrival illustrates a mode of photo album that both builds and defines upon a pair of directions: that of the past and that of the present/future. More precisely, The Arrival formally elucidates the two tendencies by visually placing distinct references to them. In this respect, the title page’s opening gives a visual reference (Figure 1). Standing to one side, the strange and nameless protagonist, his face covered by his hat, directs his gaze to the left and stares back. Similar to the other examples of single panels in the graphic novel, the title page, a replica of a panel reused from another page, demonstrates that the left-facing protagonist turns to face the past.

Figure 2
Figure 3

By the stranger looking behind or casting his gaze to the left, the panel implies that the past that is left behind creates a distance that is at the same time tangible, though no longer accessible. Tan connects a quick sequence here that shifts the direction to the opposite in the subsequent panels, thus making the (then) past yield to what lies ahead, what is directed to the right, what is the future. Just as in the first page, featuring a rightward-facing origami figure in the first panel (Figure 2), upon turning left the stranger encounters a crowd of strange-looking birds that resemble the origami figure (Figure 3). They jointly fly away towards the right, the future, whom the stranger later encounters again in the new land.

To this end, Tan repeatedly deploys these specific alignments of the characters. When the unknown protagonist bids farewell to his family, he tilts his head downwards, puts on his hat, as he faces the left side in the panel. After five additional panels, he bends down again, only this time to receive the suitcase that the daughter hands him. Unlike before, the protagonist is now oriented to the right. With the view into the future, the suitcase stresses the journey into the distant and foreign as a token of movement (Figure 4).

Figure 4

Furthermore, the visual announcements of the various flashbacks in Arrival, which portray the experiences of migration of various characters as they meet the protagonist in the new land, illustrate a glimpse into the past. An example of this is the character exchanging views with the protagonist and looking to the left. As with the previous examples, the panel concentrates only on the character, then zooms in closer with each subsequent panel. Direction of viewing plays an important role in Tan’s Arrival, placing the past and the future in immediate proximity. Similar to a photo album, the old is seemingly situated not that far back, but the new lays ahead as well – in Tan’s Arrival, the fantastically new. According to Golnar Nabizadeh, these fantastic aspects sustain “hope for the future […] through surreality that resides within the recognisable past […]” (Nabizadeh 204).

Figure 5

Accordingly, the last page of the graphic novel accentuates the direction of hope. In the one-page panel, the unnamed proagonist’s daughter, who has arrived in the new land, meets a rather perplexed looking migrant. With a suitcase on the ground and a map in her hand, the migrant gets assistance from the daughter on finding her way. Like the magical being accompanying them, the two look to the right while the daughter points her finger in that very direction – towards the future for the arrived migrant (Figure 5).







Works Cited

Ling, Chuan-Yao. “A Conversation with Illustrator Shaun Tan.” World Literature Today 82.5 (2008): 44-47
Tan, Shaun. “Strange Migrations.” n.d., www.shauntan.net/essays.
Tan, Shaun. The Arrival. Melbourne. Lothian, 2006.
Nabizadeh, Golnar. Departure and arrival: loss and mourning in literary migrant narratives. 2011. University of Western Australia, PhD dissertation. research-repository.uwa.edu.au/en/publications/departure-and-arrival-loss-and-mourning-in-literary-migrant-narra

Review of Pat Grant’s ‘The Grot -The Story of the Swamp City Grifters’

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Pat Grant’s graphic novel The Grot was published by Top Shelf Productions in 2020 and is a collaboration with the artist Fionn McCabe. It is the first of three books that together form the collection The Story of the Swamp City Grifters. Grant wanted to tell a story about con-artists but was facing the problem that in our modern time most of the scamming happens online. Since he thought a story that mainly takes place on the internet would not be interesting enough, he wanted to come up with a different, but still modern setting. Therefore, he created a dystopian Australia ‘ravaged by a plague, filled with con-artists swindling others in a world where people are scrambling for resources and constantly taking a crack at hitting big and becoming rich’. (Petras, 2020) A place called Falter City becomes a magnet for people who are looking to make a fortune, but instead, they are confronted with disease, greed, and foul play.

The reason for the downfall of the world as we know it is not mentioned in the visual narrative. Similarly, the reader does not get to know the details about why people can get so rich in Falter City. It becomes clear that there is a special type of algae that is very valuable. Ryan Carey suggests that the world in Pat Grant’s graphic novel has changed so drastically because of climate change, and that the algae might be some kind of energy source. (Carey, 2020) The world Grant creates may also remind the reader of the North American Gold Rush, during which people also left everything behind to travel across the country in the hope of becoming rich. 

In Pat Grant’s graphic novel The Grot, the reader follows the two brothers Lipton and Penn, who make their way to Falter City with their mother and plan on becoming rich by selling medicinal yogurt. On their journey, it becomes clear very quickly that their hopes might be naïve and that life in the swam is very dangerous due to a plague, a lot of fraud, and horrific work conditions. Lipton and his family receive multiple warnings. For example, when they arrive in Falter City a lot of people are waiting at the harbor. A man tells them: ‘Most of them are trying to leave. Not everyone gets rich out here and if you can’t afford the ticket then the only way back is to work your way back… fight for a spot on the pedal deck.’ (Grant, 2020) But the family is blind to all the warning signs and so full of greed that they choose to ignore the misery that is surrounding them everywhere in this hostile environment. 

The relationship between Lipton and Penn is full of tension and mistrust, and in an interview, Grant stated that he is very interested in sibling relationships. The two can be seen as dual protagonists. While Lipton is trying to make his mother proud and succeed, Penn is not really interested in setting up their business. They spent most of their time in Falter City separated from one another but are both outsmarted by con-artists in the end. (Carey, 2020) 

Grant’s first graphic novel Blue, which was published in 2013, already made it clear that the artist is not afraid to present unsympathetic and disagreeable protagonists. While Lipton seems quite naïve but could still be seen as a sympathetic character, his brother Penn, his mother, and basically every other character are far from likable. For example, Lipton’s mother states that she wants her son to profit from the diseases that are killing many people in Falter City. (Grant, 2020)

Pat Grant’s art style is very unique and contributes a lot to the uneasy feeling that the reader is left with after finishing the story. The artist uses mainly brown, green, red, and yellow in his panels. These muddy and earthy tones create a discomforting and dense atmosphere. In addition, Grant is not afraid to show ugliness, which adds to the unpleasant feeling. The artist has been praised by critics for his drawings. For example, Carey wrote: ‘These pages don’t just look good, they look great – and while no art is “perfect” in and of itself, this art is perfectly and uniquely suited to tell this story.’ (Carey, 2020)

Other than the specific art style, another quality of the graphic novel lies in its very authentic dialogues. Grant manages to remind the reader of the Australians ‘characteristically blunt method of communication and inherently wry sense of humor […].’ (Carey, 2020) 

In terms of the topic of migration, one could say that The Grot is very different from the other visual narratives that we discussed in our class – the main difference being the reasons and motivations behind migration. While we got to know a lot of comics and graphic novels where people are forced to relocate, the families in The Grot move because they want to make a fortune. Therefore, we also have a different social composition in Falter city than in the spaces where other visual narratives take place. In most of those, we have a small group of migrants that comes to a foreign place, where there is already an established community living. This often leads to tensions between the two groups. In Falter City on the other hand, it seems that almost everybody is a migrant. Still, with the following quote, it becomes clear that this place also has a history of repression of other cultures: “Here they are…the five islands. Each island used to have an indigenous name but no-one remembers those.” (Grant, 2020) This quote, among other, shows that Grant is also subtly criticizing society.

Sources: 

Grant, Pat. The Grot. Top Shelf, 2020.

Belinda, Yohana. “The Grot“, A Telltale of Con Artists during Pandemic by Pat Grant. thedisplay.net, 2020. (https://thedisplay.net/2020/06/15/the-grot-pat-grant/)

Carey, Ryan. Swamp Thing: Ryan Carey Reviews The Grot By Pat Grant. solrad.com, 2020. (https://solrad.co/swamp-thing-ryan-carey-reviews-the-grot-by-pat-grant)

Petras, Matt. Pat Grant, ‘The Grot,’ and the difficult, demanding task of creating a graphic novel. sequentialstories.com, 2020. (https://sequentialstories.com/2020/07/29/pat-grant-the-grot-and-the-difficult-demanding-task-of-creating-a-graphic-novel/)

Impressions and Review of Safdar Ahmed’s Graphic Novel Still Alive: Notes from Australia’s Immigration Detention System

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by Angela Agelopoulou

I decided to analyze Safdar Ahmed’s Still Alive: Notes from Australia’s Immigration Detention System for the class “Migration in Visual Narratives”, which deals with the migration journey portrayed in various types of visual narratives.

Introduction

As I had already participated in a seminar that dealt with migration to Australia and the conditions in Australia’s detention centres, I was very interested to read Safdar Ahmed’s graphic novel. While the full graphic novel was published in 2021, a small part had already been published online as the webcomic Villawood: Notes from an immigration detention centre in 2015. I will make a close comparison between these two narratives in the following subpoint, however, I want to first summarize the plot of Still Alive briefly.  The graphic novel shows the stories and lives of refugees being kept in an immigration detention centre in Villawood, Sydney.  These people find themselves seeking asylum in Australia due to war and violence in their home countries. While it is the task of the Australian government to protect the refugees, the graphic novel shows the cruel reality of those needing protection: The refugees are faced with great challenges during their journey by boat but also upon arrival. All stories told in Still Alive are based on true events, as Ahmed ran art classes in Villawood and there met refugees willing to share their stories.

Impressions

Even though I do have some knowledge about Australia’s detention centres, going through Still Alive was a very heartbreaking experience for me, as I felt deep sorrow while reading and seeing the stories of the refugees. I was overwhelmed by a sad and sickening feeling while going through both, the graphic novel and the webcomic. One thing I found especially shocking was the slogan of Serco, being “people are our business”. The slogan emphasizes that asylum seekers are not seen as human beings but as objects. Furthermore, it was also horrifying to read about the terrible treatment of the refugees (being physically and mentally abused and not being allowed to mourn their loved ones). The webcomic and the graphic novel do have some minor differences, for example, the graphic novel, unlike the webcomic, does not make use of colors, further emphasizing the hopelessness of the refugees. Moreover, the graphic novel has considerably more panels that are clustered together (emphasizing the feeling of being trapped) and uses a horror aesthetic, which should make it easier to talk about difficult topics, such as trauma. While these two narratives differ from one another, the effect they have on their readers stays the same: engaging with the graphic novel and the webcomic takes an emotional toll on the readers and shows the cruel reality of the world we are living in.

Art as a way of coping with trauma

The asylum seekers arriving in the detention centre knew that their migration journey would be long and dangerous. They knew that they decided to go on a journey, where they might be abused, experience loss, or even die. What they didn’t know was that their struggles would continue once arriving in the country that should keep them safe. The conditions in Australia’s detention centres are beyond cruel. The refugees are being controlled 24/7 and moving is heavily restricted. Detention centres resemble high-security prisons, where the guards abuse those detained for no reason. They are also the reason for self-harm, depression, and anxiety. Still Alive shows how the refugees deal with these feelings by drawing out their experiences, their situation, and also their migration journey. One refugee’s drawing for example shows a chessboard surrounded by barbed wire, while another shows a Taliban soldier holding four heads with the title of the drawing being “Death”. Especially in detention centres, where recordings are strictly prohibited, drawing is an effective way of expressing one’s feelings. Moreover, it is a way for the refugees to be in control and also to experience freedom. In the graphic novel, Ahmed describes the importance of art as followes: “Art and storytelling allow trauma to be visualized, externalized, and re-embedded in its context, which provides a greater feeling of safety and distance from it over time.” (22)

Conclusion

Still Alive by Safdar Ahmed gives a voice to the people who don’t often have one. The drawings and photographs portrayed in the graphic novel remind the readers of the lives being abused in Villawood, but also in other detention centres. It is a call to rise up and support the refugees and reject Australia’s detention centres that do not recognize the refugees’ lives. 

Exploring Sexuality and Queerness in Australian Fantasy: Nevernight’s Mia

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The Nevernight Chronicle by Australian author Jay Kristoff consists of the three novels Nevernight (2016), Godsgrave (2017), and Darkdawn (2019). The fantasy trilogy (which is very much not YA due to very graphic depictions of sex and violence) follows the story of Mia, who joins the Red Church, an order of assassins, in order to enact revenge upon the men who killed her family. What follows are a lot of plot twists and dark turns sprinkled with some romance on top. The novels break with a traditional writing style by adding ‘historical’, fun-fact-footnotes and overall sassy commentary. 

When I first read Nevernight at sixteen years old, I was, to be quite honest, a little taken aback by the protagonist Mia. In contrast to the many female protagonists speculative fiction offers now, she certainly defies a well-developed stereotype. Of course she does not stand alone, as for example Suzanne Collin’s Katniss clearly showcases, but there is still something special about Mia that I would like to bring to your attention. 

“You think I should have saved myself, is that it? That I’m some gift to be given? Now forever spoiled?” (Kristoff Nevernight 11)

As much as society has changed, female protagonists are still often bound to a very particular set of rules and norms. If we just take a look at the several Disney princesses, the moral is still the same: Female protagonists have to be obedient, sweet, controlled, and can generally only go on adventures if a capable man is at their side (Wheelan 176). Even though Disney may disguise it by putting a frying pan into their modern princess’ hands, the message is still the same (Brave being an exception here):

“[M]en have power and agency, women who are submissive and obedient are rewarded with marriage, and disobedient and powerful women are punished for their attempts to defy the patriarchal status quo” (Hohenstein 92).

The same pattern also occurs in literature time and time again; the most obvious example here Bella Swan from Twilight. Adolescent women’s bodies are still depicted as simultaneously dangerous and desirable, which results in their presentation as creatures who’s bodies and sexuality must be controlled by explicit as well as implicit rules (Day 75).

Kristoff, however, throws all of these stereotypes and demands over board with his protagonist Mia and offers girls and women another perspective on the female body. Mia defies pretty much every regulation ever put on the female protagonist: She is violent, aggressive, short-tempered, swears quite a lot, and her sexual encounters are openly displayed (If you are in search of more characters like Mia, I suggest Korra from The Legend of Korra or Lyra from His Dark Materials). The exploration of her desires is no longer bound to warnings or eventual backlash of (sexual) empowerment (Day 75).

The take on a teenage girl having sex for the first time is emphasised clearly, as the scene is paralleled with her first murder in order to symbolise a loss of innocence in two ways (Kristoff Nevernight 5-11). Right from the start, the reader notices that Mia has conviction and agency, which allows her to decide for herself when it is time to have sex. Furthermore, the narrative makes no heightened fuss about the decision, quite the reverse; it is depicted as the most normal thing.

The importance of this representation is the lack of fetishisation of female purity and the social construct of virginity. If you need an example, just look at Netflix’s Chilling Adventures of Sabrina; the whole four seasons are essentially about when Sabrina will finally lose her well-guarded virginity. Does any woman need this narrative in 2021? No.

Mia defies society’s expectation and demands by choosing her first time to be with a sweetboy (aka sex worker) – which sixteen year old does that? Mia, because she chose to do so. And no, this does not promote teenagers to go for sex workers, but the importance of choice. Her actions clearly illustrate how her sexual encounters cannot and should not be controlled by society, because these rules and regulations do not apply to her, as it is her choice alone. The emphasis on choice is very reminiscent of Arya Stark and her first sexual encounter in Game of Thrones, who just like Mia breaks free from gender roles and the boundaries that come with it.

Why is this relevant? Because Jay Kristoff’s trilogy allows women to have physical agency, to experience desire and act on it without being vilified like in the femme fatale trope – sex is no longer a taboo topic. Moreover, the overcoming of this cultural conditioning enables girls to gain power necessary to “become women, leaders, and heroes” (Day 76).

“[…] I thought about my life and where it’d been steered and understood I’d never really had a say in any of it. And I wanted something that could just be mine. My choice. […] So I chose her.” (Kristoff  Darkdawn 267)

Just as Kristoff resists the convention regarding the depiction of the body, he also explores the queerness of his protagonist in Godsgrave and the following novel. While there is no limitation to what authors can write about, but there is certainly a risk of getting it wrong whenever straight people decide to elaborate on these relationships.

While we are certainly seeing an increased portrayal of queer characters in several forms of media, it is still far away from the norm, especially when it comes to protagonists. More often than we like to acknowledge, queer representation is reserved for the side characters with minimum importance who ultimately die. This can get easily problematic when the only queer characters simply serve no other purpose than being killed off.

When looking at queer representation and canon relationships in other media, one will notice their high mortality rate and tendency for the very contrast to a happy ending. Prime examples for that are The 100, Holby City, Flores Raras and several others; the list is quite long. The message behind such storylines is quite simple: Queer relationships should not be treated equally, because they cannot be maintained either way. Another issue which just came up again is the erasure of queer representation in, again, Chilling Adventures of Sabrina: A queer relationship was suddenly turned back into a heterosexual one, because one woman was apparently a man in disguise. Portraying same-sex relationships seems awfully difficult, even though it is not, as Kristoff’s novels clearly showcase.

Mia underlines how queer representation is done right. When she falls for Ashlinn, who previously murdered her boyfriend Tric (Kristoff Nevernight 369), the arising controversy is not caused by their gender, but by Ashlinn’s previous deeds. Tric, when coming back from the dead, is highly disappointed in Mia and feels betrayed, but Mia remains true to her feelings and shuts any attempts of Tric getting back together with her down (Kristoff Darkdawn 266f.). Thereby Kristoff also lets go of the overdone love triangle trope and allows the readers to experience actual (satisfying) queer representation.

Even though he apparently does not believe in happy endings, Mia and Ashlinn do get one in a broader sense (they die, but then come back like Tric and get to spend the rest of their undead existence together; it is complicated). When taking the other queer relationship of Mia’s father into consideration who died for his affections for his lover, it is extremely important to balance these two events out. Because of that and Mia’s refusal to get back together with Tric, the queer narrative serves to normalise these relationships and stack them up as equally valid, important, and well rounded.

In addition to that, great successes like the Nevernight Chronicle help to spread more awareness of queer relationships and the support that is so desperately needed. Storylines like one mentioned from Chilling Adventures of Sabrina only add to the vilification and avoidance of the LGBTQ+ community and narratives, even if it was not intended. When portraying marginalised groups, ignorance is no longer tolerable, which is why it is crucial to put thought into the narrative presented to the audiences. 

Works Cited 

Day, Sara K. “Sexual Awakening and Social Resistance in Young Adult Dystopian Novels” Female Rebellion in Young Adult Dystopian Fiction, by Sarah K Day. et al. Ashgate, 2014. E-Book, pp. 75-94.

Hohenstein, Svenja. Girl Warriors. Feminist Revisions of the Hero’s Quest in Contemporary Popular Culture. MacFarland & Company, 2019. E-Book.

Kristoff, Jay. Darkdawn. HarperVoyager, 2019. 

Kristoff, Jay. Nevernight. HarperVoyager, 2016.

Whelan, Bridget. “Power to the Princess: Disney and the Creation of the Twentieth-Century Princess Narrative.” Kidding Around. The Child in Film and Media, edited by Alexander N. Howe und Wynn Yarbrough. Bloomsbury, 2014, pp. 167-192.