Epileptic

David B.

Let's stop for a moment and reflect on the fact that the first two books in this review edition were both published in 2005, and I'm reviewing them in 2005. I don't think that's ever happened before.

That aside, here's Epileptic, a graphic novel from the somewhat prolific pen of L'Association co-founder David B. Originally released in six parts in France, stretching between 1996 and 2003, it's now been released in an English translation by Pantheon, so those of us on this side of the pond, not to mention the Brits and other English-speaking folk over there who don't know a lick of French (do any still exist?), can see what all the fuss is about.

What the fuss is about is, for the most part, the drawings themselves. That's what all the rave reviews harp on. David B. is an exceptionally talented artist, one who can integrate, interpret, and regurgitate just about any artistic school, or specific artist's style, to which he sets his mind, as well as having his own style, which is pretty uniformly dark and brooding. (Think of an illegitimate cross between Frank Miller and Rich Little. On second thought, don't, because I don't want to be responsible for you being struck simultaneously blind and insane.) There's also the storyline, but, I mean, it's a memoir, whether my library has it in the fiction section or not; there's a knack to writing about your family so that someone wants to read it, but when it comes right down to it, when writing a memoir, you don't have to go that far for material.

What most impressed me about Epileptic is that it's the first graphic novel I've read since Watchmen that really has a strong sense of time. It's not so much that it's linear; David B. jumps back and forth in time on a fairly regular basis. It's that you know what he's doing without needing any special tricks to proclaim it (though he does tell you every time he starts relating a dream). Even in David B.'s phantasmagoric world, the symbols are so deeply ingrained, and so well-rendered, that the reader can tell where reality ends and flashback (or forward) begins with no problem. There's none of the sense of impressionism that seems to have taken American graphic artists by storm. And thank heaven for that. Epileptic, as a result, is an incredibly readable piece of graphic art, and one that comes highly recommended from this camp.