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

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/)

Voyeuristic Curiosity: Thoughts on Safdar Ahmed’s “Villawood”

Safdar Ahmed’s Villawood: Notes from an Immigration Detention Center depicts the treatment of immigrants in Australian detention center, Villawood. Through his webcomic, Ahmed shares the stories of several refugees while also showcasing the center’s cruel conditions and unfair treatment of its residents. 

Voyeuristic Curiosity

In a particular poignant panel set, a woman asks a refugee about his past, wondering why he left and the traumas he endured. Instead of answering, the man turns the tables and demands the woman spill her worst trauma. In three simple panels, Ahmed shows the danger of entitlement to someone’s life story. Migrants are more than stories to be read. They are real people affected by their past and living in the present. They are not here to satiate someone’s morbid curiosity. Even Ahmed notes that he feels “like a prick for being so voyeuristic in the first place.” 

Humanizing the Human

Ahmed, then, is tasked with a difficult objective: he must humanize the Villawood residents without turning them into palpable packages of trauma for the average reader to consume and feel good about themselves. He must skirt the line of “trauma-porn” while also showcasing the cruel realities these migrants are subjected to. A webcomic like his attracts the morbid voyeur, so how can he tell a story that doesn’t serve to satiate the sadist in us and instead serves as a platform for the Villawood residents to unearth their experiences? Ahmed does this in several ways that, as a reader, I found both impactful and respectful. Through the use of voice and perspective, Ahmed allows specific individuals to tell their own stories. As they narrate, he gives us information on who they are and formats their experiences in webcomic form. His own perspective sits on the sideline. In this way, Villawood becomes neither a feel-good story or an onslaught of oppression and trauma. It transcends to something higher: a true story about true people told to highlight the oppressive system and the specific people it affects.

The Story of Villawood: Told from the Inside

In the first chapter, “First Impressions,” Ahmed sets the scene of Villawood’s strict rules and regulations. Ahmed begins the comic by stating what’s not allowed in Villawood: no phones, cameras, cash, or sharp objects. After being searched, Ahmed is thrust under the watchful eye of a security camera. The center reads more prison than safe haven. Tall fences and barbed wire. Handcuffs and guard dogs. With such harsh imagery, it’s easy to imagine the people there must also be cold and hardened. Ruthless criminals rather than refugees seeking safety.

While the chapter begins with Ahmed’s first impressions and his own perspective, it ends with artwork created by people Ahmed met in Villawood. Pencil drawings of their life before. We see they fled the threat of death and oppression for a prison of a different variety. They tell us this through their art, and they begin to take control of the narrative. Ahmed’s thoughts quickly give way to the voices of the people inside Villawood.

The second chapter, “Ahmad,” focuses on the specific experiences of Ahmad Ali Jafari, a Hazara refugee. Ahmed humanizes him by sharing specific traits of Ahmad’s in the beginning of the chapter. He is not a faceless name or a blanket character for the whole of the refugee experience to be thrust upon. He is a real person with individual quirks. An artist, a poet, and a victim of Villawood’s cold cruelty. Ahmed even includes a photo of Ahmad in the webcomic, putting substance to the man besides pencil drawings and cartoons. One important thing to note is that Ahmed uses a photo that Villawood residents hung up as a form of protest and call to action. The residents themselves want the truth of Ahmad’s death to be spread. The story is shared, not appropriated. 

In the third chapter, Ahmed continues to share their story. He follows specific people as they speak about education, loneliness, and mistreatment. The residents speak for themselves while Ahmed illustrates their experiences, a trend that seems to fill the majority of the webcomic. The difference between the voyeuristic woman demanding to know a man’s trauma is that she demanded answers while the residents take control of their own voice. The reader must trust that Ahmed only tells what the residents wanted to tell and that he only shares the artwork they wished to share.

What Next?

The final set of panels in the webcomic is especially telling. Refugee Haider Ali is granted release from Villawood. He is ecstatic while his caseworker tells him he can leave while his claims proceed. The caseworker, however, laments the extra load of paperwork on her part. The comic ends with Ali staring open-mouthed and shell-shocked, the phone still to his ear. He has endured the cruel conditions of the detention center, yet he is met with complete apathy when his situation changes. If someone as close to the system as a case worker cannot recognize Ali’s humanity and joy of escape, then what does that say not only about the system itself but how the rest of society treats migrants? Isn’t the burden of paperwork and overtime worth the goal of basic human decency and humane treatment?

The last panel suggests that Ali’s journey is not over. As a refugee, he will also be tainted by the knowledge the society in which he lives does not welcome him. He’s seen as a burden, unfairly throwing paperwork on someone who chose to make filling out that very same paperwork her profession. He escaped the Taliban only to be thrust into the hold of Villawood. And he has escaped Villawood only to be treated with apathy, his celebration cut short before it truly starts. In this way, Ahmed challenges our own role within the “refugee crisis,” questioning our presuppositions while also maintaining we have no right to demand these stories from these people. Any story we listen to must be freely given, and we cannot listen to the stories until we learn to humanize people like Ali—people who experience joy and pain. People whose victories must be celebrated, no matter what may come next. And, ultimately, we must take up the burden of paperwork—doing what must be done to reform the system and help the people it was designed to hurt.

Thoughts on the Wordless Graphic Novel The Arrival by Shaun Tan

by Johanna E. 

“My picture books are essentially an attempt to subversively reimagine everyday experience,” Shaun Tan says about his own work (Haber 23). His graphic novel The Arrival (2006) is a clear example for Tan’s usage of fantastic element to reimagine everyday occurences. In The Arrival, we a re dealing with the reimagined everyday experience of a refugee, starting a life in a new place far from home. In six chapters the graphic novel tells the story of a man who has to immigrate to a different country and leave his wife and daughter behind because of the dangers facing the family in their home country. Eventually, his family follows him after he has found a place to live and a place to work. His experiences are told without words so that the storytelling relies entirely on the illustrations. The subversion of the very common immigration themes of feeling displaced and overwhelmed in the new situation is especially present because realistic elements are juxtaposed with fantastical elements to depict the migrant experience.     

It becomes clear from the beginning that words are not necessary for Shaun Tan to convey the meaning of his story because the composition of panels, illustrations and icons makes it possible to be (almost) universally understood. This has the interesting effect that the story does not require anyone to either know English or any other language in particular. I liked this aspect of the story, especially because it reminded me of my own family member telling me about her migration story which was made a lot harder because of the language barrier and the loneliness that comes with that. The immigrant in the story also deals with language barriers as the new language system is completely foreign to him and it takes time until he is able to make sense of it. This is one of the reasons why the lack of words in the narrative works so well for an immigration story because understanding very often relies on knowing a certain language and the graphic novel removes this boundary for any of its potential readers. Additionally, using no words requires the reader to take a closer look at each and every panel and icon, which makes the reader engage with the illustrations more thoroughly.                

six panels showing the protagonist's hands as they carefully pack a family photograph

            The art style Shaun Tan uses is an interesting mix of the familiar and the unfamiliar. Generally, the panels and icons are drawn in a very realistic way, meaning the main characters, the refugee and his family, look similar to the way they might look in an old photograph. The entire book reads like an old document that is put together as a remembrance for the migrant´s experiences. Furthermore, Shaun Tan often “zooms” in and out of his panels or focuses on hand gestures which has a very humanizing effect amidst the many fantastical elements. In many instances, Tan shows the main character´s hand movements to symbolize his inner feelings and turmoil, like when his hand flexes in pain because he has to leave his family or when he holds on tight to his suitcase on the journey. Some pages zoom away from the small gestures to the characters as tiny specks in a city full of fantastical monsters which emphasizes the danger they are surrounded by in their home country.

           

In contrast to the rather realistic icons and panels we also have the fantastical elements the main character encounters as soon as he arrives in the new place. The more he explores the city, the more fantastical the elements like food, the buildings, the transportation, or the language system become. These fantastical elements are juxtaposed with the realistic art style Shaun Tan uses for the illustrations. The unidentifiable food, the strange animals or the unreadable language represent the newness of the place where the main characters immigrated to and how difficult it is to find your way around at first. Because these elements are not specific to any real culture, every reader is confronted with this strangeness in the same way. You do not really know what to make of the elements at first but they become more familiar with every chapter which connects the reader and the refugee as neither knows what the fantastical elements mean at first.                

four panels showing a newspaper boy with a newspaper in a strange language, a housewife with a strange pet, a strange vending wagon, and two people handling giant eggs

            One aspect concerning the realistic drawing of people reminded me of Scott McCloud´s discussion of comics and graphic novels as he states that “when you look at a photo or realistic drawing of a face, you see it as the face of another. But when you enter the world of the cartoon, you see yourself” (McCloud 36). For Tan´s work that would mean the realistic drawing of faces makes it more difficult to relate to the character´s experiences as you have a specific face you are confronted with. However, Shaun Tan seems to have a different view on relatability when it comes to drawing realistically which I thought was interesting to compare. He states that “The absence of any written description in The Arrival seemed to place the reader more firmly in the shoes of an anonymous protagonist.” (Arizpe et al. 161). Therefore, there seems to be a difference in approach as McCloud highlights the importance of abstraction for relatability whereas Shaun Tan does create a realistic-looking character but, because the story is told without words, there is more room for interpretation as different readers might make different connections between panels according to their own backgrounds. Furthermore, I think that a lot of the relatability of his work comes from the magical elements, which are jarring for all readers alike, and act as stand-ins for real life experiences of learning a new language, or not understanding the food, animals, or cities. I think that generally, McCloud and Tan have the same idea in mind though, because ultimately both play with the illusion of engaging the readers to feel represented and see themselves in the comic or graphic novel, just through different techniques.             

The importance of the lack of words, and the realism juxtaposed with the fantastical elements, is what the story lives off and what makes it compelling and new. There is a lot more you can say about The Arrival and the way meaning is constructed but for now, I think that the way the story is told is quite unique, especially in terms of the art style. This makes it possible for every kind of reader to connect with the story, especially people who have gone through similar experiences.

Sources

  • Arizpe, Evelyn, Teresa Colomer, and Carmen Martinez-Roldain. Visual Journey Through Wordless Narratives: An International Inquiry with Immigrant Children and The Arrival. Bloomsbury Academic, 2014.
  • Haber, Karen. Masters of Science Fiction and Fantasy Art: A Collection of the Most Inspiring         Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Gaming Illustrators in the world. Rockport Publishers, 2011.
  • McCloud, Scott. Understanding Comics: the Invisible Art. HarperPerennial, 1994.
  • Tan, Shaun. The Arrival. Hodder Children´s Books, 2007.                  

Book Review: “The Dreaming” by Queenie Chan

By Theodora Charalambous

A Hong Kong-born, Australian-raised writer and illustrator, the Australian bush, Aboriginal mythology and Japanese mangas. An unusual combination that surprisingly works great.

The Dreaming is a 3-book, manga (Japanese comics) inspired, supernatural mystery series written and illustrated by Chinese-Australian comic book artist and graphic novelist, Queenie Chan. The story follows a pair of identical twins, Amber and Jeanie, as they arrive to their new boarding school, the Greenwich Private College, which is remotely located in the Australian bush. With rumors that female students have a habit of going missing in the bushlands, as well as the fact that the vice-principal, who runs the school, despises twins, the girls quickly realize that the school may not be as normal as it first appeared to be.

Reading the story was definitely a very interesting experience. Until now, I haven’t had any previews contact with Indigenous Australian folklore, which added a difficulty when it came to predicting where the story was going and what exactly lurked withing the bush. This, however, made the story even more engaging. Although narratives borrowed from indigenous cultures and used by non-indigenous writers, can be problematic, I wouldn’t say this applies in the case of The Dreaming. The creatures living withing the bushlands weren’t exactly demonized, but rather it was the school that felt alien in the area and seemed to be invading sacred land. Additionally, the founder of the boarding school was originally from England, a detail that perhaps could be linked to the country’s colonial history. If so, one could say that the story’s conclusion served the purpose of catharsis, when (spoiler!) the boarding school burned down and the invader was finally gone. It has to be added, though, that the author herself has expressed regret over the inclusion of indigenous motifs and would not do so again – in an interview soon to be published by the CASTLE youtube channel!

However, I would personally love to see a bit more indigenous representation, as the story does circle around an indigenous myth. When it came to the horror/ thriller aspect, I wasn’t sure what to expect, going in. However, I quickly caught myself holding my breath with each turning page, and I soon started coursing for choosing to begin reading the story late at night. The graphic novel ended with a somewhat open ending, and although I really wished the story to be a bit longer, it really fitted the novel’s atmospheric mood perfectly. Additionally, the art was well done, simplistic, yet very detailed where it needed to be. The panels and text flowed very nicely making it easy to navigate through the story, and the backgrounds were never too crowded to distract from the main focus. What I loved most about the art, were the beautiful illustrations for the chapter pages, whose essence I tried to capture in my illustration accompanying this blog post, as a tribute to the graphic novel.

All in all, I really enjoyed reading this trilogy, and would absolutely recommend it to any readers looking for a quick little spook to spice up their day with, or evening, for the more adventurous readers. The first two volumes are available free, on Queenie Chan’s webpage, whereas the 3rd one needs to be purchased.