#IReadsYou Review: PORTRAIT OF A DRUNK

PORTRAIT OF A DRUNK
FANTAGRAPHICS BOOKS – @fantagraphics

[This review was originally posted on Patreon.]

CARTOONISTS: Olivier Schrauwen and Ruppert & Mulot
TRANSLATION: Jenna Allen
EDITOR: Eric Reynolds
ISBN: 978-1-68396-289-2; 8.75 x 11 – trim size (April 2020)
188pp, Color, $29.99 U.S.

Portrait d'un buveur is a French graphic novel created by Belgian comics creator, Olivier Schrauwen, and the French comics duo of Ruppert and Mulot (Florent Ruppert and Jérôme Mulot).  It was published in France by Dupuis in 2019.  Fantagraphics Books recently published an English-language edition of Portrait d'un buveur as a hardcover graphic novel entitled Portrait of a Drunk, which is the subject of this review.

Portrait of a Drunk is the story of an 18th century guy named Guy Fleming.  A sailor, he is no master mariner.  A drunk, he manages to pass himself off as a carpenter aboard sailing vessels.  It would be just fine if he were an ordinary member of a sailing crew, but he is lazy, a liar, a coward, a thief, a drunkard, and, on special occasions, a killer.  He is not a swashbuckler, but he will unbuckle his pants to urinate wherever he can, including on bar counters and on people.  His story could be a grand tale of the sea with great battles, treasure-hunting adventures, and some gallows humor, but this is simply the portrait of a drunk.

The editor of the American edition of Portrait of a Drunk recommended the book to me, which under normal circumstances could be considered a conflict of interest.  But Portrait of a Drunk is such a joy to read and to experience.  It's fucking great, and you gotta say that shit like “Tony the Tiger,” growling and letting that growl roll over the word “great.”

First, I have to say that some have referred to the pairing of Olivier Schrauwen and the French duo of Ruppert and Mulot as a “supergroup.”  The term is often associated with rock music.  A supergroup comes together when members of two or more established rock bands unite to form an all-star band.  One of the earliest and most famous supergroups was “Cream,” which featured the pairing of Eric Clapton (formerly of The Yardbirds) with Jack Bruce and Ginger Baker (formerly of John Mayall and the Bluesbreakers).  I grew up on such 1980s supergroups as “Asia,” “The Firm,” “The Power Station,” and “Traveling Wilburys.”

I cannot say that the union of Olivier Schrauwen and Ruppert and Mulot is a comic book supergroup based on their past work, of which I am not familiar.  However, I am willing to call them a union made in comic book heaven after reading this one fantastic graphic novel, Portrait of a Drunk.

I did not read Portrait of a Drunk as a narrative told in two allegorical parts, “The Blowout” and “The Hangover,” which is apparently what it is.  Of course, it is obvious that multiple artists and storytellers worked on Portrait of a Drunk.  That can be seen simply in the mixture of color, black and white, and two-color art.  If there are two story lines or two parallel narrative threads, then, one of them is a stream of conscious-like, drunken adventure in which the reader tags along with Guy.  The other is like a side-story set in surreal shadow land or afterlife dimension where Guy's victims, accidental and otherwise, gather to observe him and also to plot against him.

Portrait of a Drunk is a great high-seas adventure.  It might seem dark, but quite the opposite.  It is a black comedy that takes many of the familiar literary elements and Hollywood ingredients of the high-seas adventure and strips away the glamour.  What is left is a bumbling, rough-and-tumble, violent, piss-laden adventure with someone who is such a drunkard that he needs professional help, the kind of which I assume did not exist in the 18th century.

Often in this graphical narrative, Schrauwen and Ruppert and Mulot don't even bother with panels.  They draw Guy bumbling from one side of the page to the other – row by row until he gets to the next page and starts all over again.  While Guy might be a drunk and a killer, but he is a comic book star, no less so that Spider-Man and Batman.  His adventure here is so... well, adventurous.  Colorful and exotic, we follow Guy from one port town to another, with stops at vibrant locales and in alien lands.

There is something so alluring in Olivier Schrauwen and Ruppert and Mulot fantastic bandes dessinées.  Perhaps, it is that they experiment with the medium and with comics and push past the boundaries of the expected.  Yes, Fantagraphics Books publishes comics for thinking readers, but it is just fine that high-falutin' comics, like Portrait of a Drunk, are as fun to read as say... Batman: The Dark Knight Returns.

I can say with confidence that in this awful year of 2020, Olivier Schrauwen and Ruppert and Mulot's Portrait of a Drunk is one of the few truly magnificent graphic novels I have have come across.  And it is a fun summer read for me today, just as a Marvel comic book was for me decades ago.

10 out of 10

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Reviewed by Leroy Douresseaux a.k.a. "I Reads You"

The text is copyright © 2020 Leroy Douresseaux. All Rights Reserved. Contact this blog or site for syndication rights and fees.


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I Reads You Review: THE SPEED ABATER (OGN)

Creator: Christophe Blain (cartoonist) with Joe Johnson (translator)

Publishing Information: NBM/ComicsLit, paperback, Color, 80 pages, $13.95 (US)

Ordering Numbers: ISBN: 1-56163-349-6 (ISBN-10)

Originally published in 1999 by the French publishing house, Dupuis, The Speed Abater is a graphic novel from Christophe Blain. NBM published an English language edition of The Speed Abater in 2003, with translation by Joe Johnson. A French cartoonist who once studied economics, Blain has worked with David B. and Lewis Trondheim and is the creator of the Isaac the Pirate graphic novel series.

The Speed Abater is set during wartime (World War II?) aboard a destroyer, a battleship named the Bellicose. The story primarily focuses on George Guilbert, a young helmsman, who has difficulty adjusting to life on the high seas due to his extreme seasickness. He befriends Louis Bleno, another novice helmsman, and Sam Nordiz, a coxswain with a penchant for claiming to be more well-connected than he really is.

Trying to find a place to get a way from the noise and also the constant motion that causes their seasickness, George and Louis follow Sam deep into the bowels of the Bellicose. An accident causes problems with the Bellicose’ sensitive reduction gears. Catastrophe follows and the men find themselves trapped, while an enemy submarine stalks the Bellicose.

On the surface, The Speed Abater seems like a character drama, and in many ways, it is also a suspense thriller. At its core, however, Christophe Blain’s graphic novel is about the struggle between man and the enormous, complex, and bureaucratic machine that is life on this planet. The Bellicose is this giant, self-contained world and, perhaps, a stand-in for our own world.

For all its immensity and power, the Bellicose is susceptible breakdowns, even those sometimes caused by the most insignificant objects. The Bellicose has a seemingly unending supply of sailors/operators and also parts that keep it operating. With so much that can go wrong, it is a wonder that the ship operates at all. When it comes to the crew members, Blain’s narrative gives the impression that they work at cross purposes. The right hand doesn’t know what the left hand is doing, indeed.

George Guilbert and, to a lesser extent, Louis Bleno and Sam Nordiz, are tiny souls trapped in this world that is the belly of the beast. The goal is to survive the Bellicose and life – by hook, by crook, or by luck and circumstance. The colorful, odd assortment that is this story’s cast and the riveting storyline that is the story’s driving force are all engaging. Why? The answer is in how this deeply human story unveils George’s path to victory and survival.

The Speed Abater

Leroy Douresseaux on "Aya: The Secrets Come Out"

AYA: THE SECRETS COME OUT

DRAWN & QUARTERLY

WRITER: Marguerite Abouet
ARTIST: Clément Oubrerie
TRANSLATION: Helge Dascher
LETTERS: Rich Tomasso, John Kuramoto
ISBN: 978-1-897299-79-1; hardcover
144pp, $19.95 US, $22.95 CAN, Color

In their graphic novel, Aya, writer Marguerite Abouet and artist Clément Oubrerie transported readers back to the African country of the Ivory Coast. Set in the late 1970s, Aya introduced a cast of characters that lived in and around Yopougon, also known as Yop City, a working class neighborhood in the city of Abijan. The star of this colorful ensemble was Aya, a studious, middle class girl whose levelheaded ways were in stark contrast to her contemporaries.

In the second graphic novel, Aya of Yop City, Aya is the calm eye of a storm of personal calamities. Her friend, Adjoua, struggles with being a single mother, and her other girl friend, Bintou, ignores her friends to chase a mysterious Parisian lothario. The biggest bombshell of all is that Aya’s father, Ignace, has two children by another woman, and his mistress, Jeanne, arrived at the family’s doorstep with the two children in tow.

In the third (and final?) graphic novel, Aya: The Secrets Come Out, clandestine desires, conspiracies, secrets, and lies are brought to light. This time, Aya manages to be counsel to almost all and problem solver for many.

Aya is one of the great graphic novels of the first decade of this century (2001-2010). Aya of Yop City was a good, not great work, but as I said in my review, “it is great that something like it is available to comic book and graphic novel readers in North America.” Aya: The Secrets Come Out delivers a wonderful comic, character drama that completely justifies the subplots and set-ups offered in Yop City.

Like Gilbert Hernandez and Jaime Hernandez were over a quarter-century ago, Marguerite Abouet is a greatly needed fresh voice in comic books, spinning tales about people who are different from the cookie cutter characters and culture offered by North American comic books – from superhero comics to yes, alternative comics. Her keen insight into human motivation with its changeability and fickle nature allows her to create characters that are uncanny in their resemblance to real people.

Artist Clément Oubrerie uses vibrant colors to bring his quirky cartoons to life. He gives his characters faces that capture a wide range of human emotion, feeling, and expression. His backdrops and sets are what really capture the sense that these stories take place in a different world.

Together, Abouet and Oubrerie have created something that is not only delightfully refreshing, but is also magical in its ability to make an African-set story universal. The only bad thing about Aya: The Secrets Come Out is that this excellent conclusion is the end. Encore!

A