numb to this: memoir of a mass shooting

There’s a lovely tradition in the high school I work at where teachers to post the title of the book they’re currently reading on their classroom door. I was puttering around last Friday, packing up before Winter Break, and I changed my sign over to show my latest read, Kindra Neely’s graphic novel Numb to This: Memoir of a Mass Shooting. A student who has struggled in my class asked me about it, and then wanted to see the book, and then asked when is it gonna be on the bookshelf? I was reading a library copy, but you can bet I placed an order for this one as soon as I had a spare moment. In my opinion, there’s nothing better than finding a book (the right one, the one they choose!) for that student who needs it. And on top of that, this book is a must-read – an important, shattering story from a gun violence survivor – a chance to listen to someone share what that aftermath looks and feels like. 

 

Kindra Neely never expected it to happen to her. No one does. Sure, she’d sometimes been close to gun violence, like when the house down the street from her childhood home in Texas was targeted in a drive-by shooting. But now she lived in Oregon, where she spent her time swimming in rivers with friends or attending classes at the bucolic Umpqua Community College.

And then, one day, it happened: a mass shooting shattered her college campus. Over the span of a few minutes, on October 1, 2015, eight students and a professor lost their lives. And suddenly, Kindra became a survivor. This empathetic and ultimately hopeful graphic memoir recounts Kindra’s journey forward from those few minutes that changed everything.

It wasn’t easy. Every time Kindra took a step toward peace and wholeness, a new mass shooting devastated her again. Las Vegas. Parkland. She was hopeless at times, feeling as if no one was listening. Not even at the worldwide demonstration March for Our Lives. But finally, Kindra learned that—for her—the path toward hope wound through art, helping others, and sharing her story.

 

Kindra Neely survived the Umpqua Community College mass shooting in Oregon in 2015, and her beautiful, poignant, and searing memoir of the years after is absolutely required reading. There’s some background and context-setting, but the majority of Neely’s book focuses on the day of the shooting and what happened next: how she reacted in the short- and long-term, the impact of PTSD on her life, and the reality of a suicide attempt: all while presenting a front to the world. In the 300 pages of this debut graphic novel, Neely lays herself bare for a purpose, saying “I…went looking for a book about how to deal with the aftermath of a shooting, but I couldn’t find one. Maybe I could make a book to show people like me that they aren’t alone, or that their feelings are normal.”

 

Neely’s story is not just one of trauma, though it does deal with that. It keeps the tension between hope (she survived, she keeps surviving, she finds meaning in making art & helping others) and realism (there are bad days full of fear, depression is very real, and some people are uncomfortable around those who are open about their trauma). The pacing and scene changes are also telegraphed well and keep the “journey” of Neely’s life (narrative) moving. It is also heartwarming to see the real-life friends come alongside Neely in tough moments, and vice versa, even though no one is without flaws (except maybe Neely’s mom). The supportive, healthy relationships and networks from her life are excellent guides for young readers to follow, internalize, and model in their own lives.

 

Pacing and storytelling in the graphic novel format rely so much on the art… and I just want to say that Neely’s art is fabulous. I would have no idea that this was a debut – her style and linework are polished, modern, and evocative. The emotion bleeds through the pages, and while this volume is in full color, I think Neely’s neat linework and focus on facial expressions would work in any color palette. There’s doesn’t seem to be a predominant or overarching color theme, but teals and purples show up quite a bit in scenes set in Oregon, and harsh yellows and reds during moments of stress and trauma. Overt symbolism of dragonflies appears throughout (and is explained directly in the text).

 

Overall, Neely’s story and art are indistinguishable/inseparable – and the result, a compulsively-readable volume, allows her to be vulnerable in the service of helping others. Numb to This is heart-wrenching and incisive and belongs in every high school library in the country.

 

Recommended for: high school nonfiction collections, and anyone ages 14+ who has been touched by a mass shooting in some way (at this point, everyone in the US).

wake: the hidden history of women-led slave revolts

While I was in Las Vegas this last week with my sister, we chatted about our most recent reads, and which ones stood out weeks and months after the reading. For me, one of those reads was Dr. Rebecca Hall and Hugo Martínez's graphic novel memoir-slash-academic history Wake: The Hidden History of Women-Led Slave Revolts. I picked this title up at my local library after seeing it mentioned in a newsletter from the publisher, and found it haunting and important.

Women warriors planned and led revolts on slave ships during the Middle Passage. They fought their enslavers throughout the Americas. And then they were erased from history.

Wake tells the “riveting” (Angela Y. Davis) story of Dr. Rebecca Hall, a historian, granddaughter of slaves, and a woman haunted by the legacy of slavery. The accepted history of slave revolts has always told her that enslaved women took a back seat. But Rebecca decides to look deeper, and her journey takes her through old court records, slave ship captain’s logs, crumbling correspondence, and even the forensic evidence from the bones of enslaved women from the “negro burying ground” uncovered in Manhattan. She finds women warriors everywhere.

Using a “remarkable blend of passion and fact, action and reflection” (NPR), Rebecca constructs the likely pasts of Adono and Alele, women rebels who fought for freedom during the Middle Passage, as well as the stories of women who led slave revolts in Colonial New York. We also follow Rebecca’s own story as the legacy of slavery shapes her life, both during her time as a successful attorney and later as a historian seeking the past that haunts her.

Illustrated beautifully in black and white, Wake will take its place alongside classics of the graphic novel genre, like Marjane Satrapi’s Persepolis and Art Spiegelman’s Maus. This story of a personal and national legacy is a powerful reminder that while the past is gone, we still live in its wake.

In Wake, Dr. Hall weaves together the process of historical discovery – detailing time spent in archives, attempting to cross-reference what fragments of source documents still exist, and the frustrations of accessing both – with the riveting histories of women-led slave revolts both on the Atlantic and in America. She combines a clear (and fascinating!) approach to the historical record with interpretation of what may have happened in the gaps – the untold stories – and her own experiences in academia as a Black woman investigating the horrific acts and legacies of slavery. Then she mixes in what she knows about her own ancestry. The resulting narrative is a fascinating intertwining of research and personal memoir that speaks directly to today’s issues of police brutality, protest, and white supremacy. 

“While the past is gone, we still live in its wake.”

What stood out most? I loved the insider's view of how anyone can go about “finding” women’s history. We are often told (or simply assume) that women were not instrumental in history because they are not mentioned in the historical record. But Hall breaks down that fallacy beautifully, showing that if you know how to search, if you look in the absences and margins, and dig, you can indeed find histories of women who changed the world, even in the driest and most difficult of documents. Her topic, of course, is women who led slave revolts. She refused to accept that it was always men who led slave revolts, and she was able to find evidence to support her hunch. 

One of the moments when I felt the most indignant about the content of this book (which after all would not exist without the inhumanity and banal evil of slavery) was when Dr. Hall was turned away from the archive at Lloyd’s of London. This former insurer of slave ship cargo (and now, just plain bank & insurer) cared (cares?) more about protecting its reputation than about the truth of the historical record. On their website they now claim to have taken responsibility and apologize for their part in the transatlantic slave trade in the wake of the George Floyd protests, but Hall points out that they care about profit and reputation than possibly connecting people who were forcibly stripped of their histories, culture, and lives with (any) closure. Hall is right to call them out, and I could feel the intensity of the moment when she recounted being escorted out of the Lloyd’s building by security deep in my chest. What cowards! 

Beyond the electrifying content, much of the success of a graphic novel depends on the interconnection of text and art. Hall and Martínez are a talented team – this story jumps off the page and into the light. The no-nonsense, realistic art style, in black pen on white background, puts the emphasis of the book on the very important content. That isn’t to say the art is neglected, no! There are feelings that are too much for words, and Martínez skillfully illustrates emotional, fraught, and frustrating moments so that the reader feels as if they are in them with the women of the story. The dust jacket is also gorgeous – with embossed layers, interesting fonts and illustration, and vivid color. 

In all, Wake is a powerful, instructive, and merciless look at the way history is made, recorded, found, and interpreted, and it is at the same time a very personal, familial story and a call to action. I felt deeply moved by this work, and I hope many will read and learn from it. 

Recommended for: fans of historical nonfiction and graphic novel memoirs, anyone interested in books that tie-in history and current issues for young readers (Jason Reynolds & Ibram X. Kendi’s Stamped, for instance), and those looking for beautifully-constructed narratives that challenge them as readers, and challenge accepted history!

the fire never goes out: a memoir in pictures

As someone who rarely reads nonfiction books for fun, but plenty of nonfiction articles, personal essays, and magazine features, the graphic novel memoir format has turned out to be something of a revelation. I already love reading graphic novels (see: volunteering to read 100+ nominations as a Cybils panelist this year), and graphic novel memoirs (I want to point out there’s a bit of an oxymoron right there in the genre identifier!) are just about the right length – they don’t feel endless, and I don’t lose interest. So when I heard about Noelle Stevenson’s graphic novel memoir The Fire Never Goes Out: A Memoir in Pictures, I knew I’d give it a read at some point – or at the very least buy it to add to my classroom library (and all of the 9th grade Nimona and Lumberjanes fans at school).

From Noelle Stevenson, the New York Times bestselling author-illustrator of Nimona, comes a captivating, honest illustrated memoir that finds her turning an important corner in her creative journey—and inviting readers along for the ride. 

In a collection of essays and personal mini-comics that span eight years of her young adult life, author-illustrator Noelle Stevenson charts the highs and lows of being a creative human in the world. Whether it’s hearing the wrong name called at her art school graduation ceremony or becoming a National Book Award finalist for her debut graphic novel, Nimona, Noelle captures the little and big moments that make up a real life, with a wit, wisdom, and vulnerability that are all her own.

Noelle Stevenson, author of the fantastic graphic novel Nimona (originally a webcomic) and showrunner of the recent animated She-Ra series on Netflix, has compiled a series of vignettes, comics, and commentary about her young adult years in what is titled “a memoir in pictures.” In various mini-comics and end-of-year/birthday roundups, Stevenson details professional highs and lows and shares some physical and mental health journeys of the past several years, giving fans a close-up on not only her life, but also her changing self-perception.

 

Writing a memoir is a deeply vulnerable act – it exposes elements of your personal story to the light that you’ll never get back for yourself alone: those memories become public property.  I’ve read several really excellent graphic memoirs: everything/anything Lucy Knisley writes, including Relish, Tillie Walden’s Spinning, Vera Brogsol’s Be Prepared, etc. Stevenson’s memoir… is not really a memoir as such. It cannot decide what it wants to be: a “greatest hits” list, a “making of the artist” autobiography, or a therapeutic reevaluation of the past for the author’s sake. And while that does not lessen Stevenson’s bravery in baring parts of her soul, it does muddle the poignancy and purpose of her message.

 

The book is arranged in a loose timeline by year, with annual review/birthday posts that Stevenson blogs each New Year serving as the backbone, combined with previously published fan art, personal art from her sketchbook at the time, and new mini-comics. The static year-by-year progression does the narrative no favors – at times it reads very much as a “This is what I drew when, and here’s how it helped me get famous!” and other times is so sparse (looking at you 2014 and 2015…!) that it is hard to see why Stevenson and the editor did not do more… editing. Instead of a clear, unified story, I found myself asking questions like: “Is this about mental health? Or is this a fanbook for people who already love Noelle Stevenson?”

 

It’s not that there’s a dearth of material to work with: Stevenson touches on coming out to herself and others, bipolar disorder, losing her religion, self-harm, national tragedies such as the Pulse nightclub shooting, and workplace disasters (frustratingly vague for someone who is quite open about successes). She also tries to interrogate an idea she admits she internalized: that achieving things at a young age makes you better than everyone else. However, she doesn’t quite find the context or connections necessary to make the reader believe she has fully unpacked that. Instead, the book falls into a frustrating place where no metaphor is fully explored or linked to another, even the titular one.

 

If you’re looking for a bright spot (I certainly was!) the art is great. Stevenson’s style uses minimal lines and sparing color, and will be familiar to anyone who has read her books and comics or watched her shows before. She also includes the occasional personal photo to contrast against her art. I remain a fan of Stevenson’s fiction, but I cannot help feeling let down by the nagging thought that if she’d had a braver editor (or maybe felt less like she needed to prove her chops and credentials, page after page?), her memoir/journal might have had a better, and more courageous, thematic finale.

 

In all, The Fire Never Goes Out is a disappointing attempt at memoir by a celebrated young queer comics and animation pro.

 

Recommended for: die-hard Noelle Stevenson fans and readers who are LGBTQ+ graphic memoir completists.

be prepared

Did you go to summer camp as a child? I did, for a week-long religious camp when I was in 5^th, 6^th, and 7^th grades. It was a summer highlight (along with outdoor summer swim team!), and I have vivid recollections of camp-wide water balloon fights, arts and crafts, lakeside activities, and drinking coffee for the first time. But because the camp I went to was religion-focused, and only a week long, I always envied the girls in The Parent Trap or in books who went away to camp for months, or whole summers even, and pulled complex pranks! I wanted a taste of that freedom, independence, and mischief. Vera Brosgol’s middle grade graphic novel Be Prepared is an autobiographical take on her own summer camp experience – which wasn’t what she expected at all, and yet formative all the same. And (bonus!) it made me feel a bit better about never being sent away for a whole summer!

In Be Prepared, all Vera wants to do is fit in—but that’s not easy for a Russian girl in the suburbs. Her friends live in fancy houses and their parents can afford to send them to the best summer camps. Vera’s single mother can’t afford that sort of luxury, but there's one summer camp in her price range—Russian summer camp.

Vera is sure she's found the one place she can fit in, but camp is far from what she imagined. And nothing could prepare her for all the "cool girl" drama, endless Russian history lessons, and outhouses straight out of nightmares!

When young Vera’s attempts to make friends with girls from her suburban school go embarrassingly (and hilariously, in retrospect) awry, she decides that Russian summer camp is the answer to her problems. Surely there she will fit in and find people who will appreciate her! But it turns out that at camp Vera has just exchanged one miserable experience for another – and the camp doesn’t have running water!

Brosgol’s camp story chronicles experiences that will be familiar and/or recognizable to all – feeling different or excluded, wanting to fit in, and having a “thing” or experience built up so much in your head that turns out to be not-so-great after all. Brosgol treats her past self with grace and humor, drawing laughs out of her audience as she remains true to past events, hurts, and relationships.

Be Prepared is a dose of reality – the kind that will make you tear up in sympathy for young Vera’s plight and feelings, laugh at an unexpected turn of events, and at the end, sigh with contentment. It’s a story well-told, and beautifully illustrated. It’s a perfect summertime read for the tween set, and adult readers will find much to sympathize with as well. Brosgol’s art, dialogue, and pacing all combine to create a book that you won’t want to put down, and will want to put in others’ hands ASAP as soon as you’re done.

A good portion of the hilarity in Be Prepared comes from Brosgol’s depiction of her younger self – especially her eyes. They’re almost as big as her face, surrounded by glasses, and intensely expressive – here you can see all of Vera’s anxiety, worry, and disappointment laid bare. Brosgol imbues her art with emotion, and the reader feels it. The page spreads illustrated in shades of olive green, black and white will appeal to fans of cartoons and animation, and though panel sizes vary, the focus is nearly always Vera and her reactions to various experiences.

Be Prepared is a summer camp memoir that’s perfect for fans of Lucy Knisley’s Relish and Shannon Hale’s Real Friends, and any graphic novel fan who is ready for a story filled with humor and heart!

Recommended for: graphic novel readers ages 8+ who enjoy the work of Shannon Hale and Raina Telgemeier, and anyone who went to camp or wanted to go – and found it different than they expected!

Fine print: I received a finished copy of this book from the publisher for Cybils Award consideration. I did not receive any compensation for this post.

spinning blog tour - interview with author tillie walden

Today’s post is part of the blog tour for Tillie Walden’s illustrated memoir, Spinning. Walden is the author of one of my favorite webcomics, On A Sunbeam, and is a decorated comics artist as well as an all-around lovely person. Read on for an interview and a brief review of Spinning!

It seemed like one of the themes of this book was solitude and a sort of loneliness, even when deeply involved in a team sport. Do you/did you recognize that as you put together the story?

Honestly, no! I noticed it afterwards. Which is hilarious to me now. It’s amazing how blind we are to ourselves and our patterns. But I’m glad that comes out in the book. I think it’s very easy to believe that team sports are an endless show of camaraderie and togetherness, but I found it all extremely isolating. And I imagine I’m not the only person to feel that way. Ice rinks, to me, are also especially lonely places. They’re freezing cold, and they’re either full of bright lights or kind of stuck in the shadows. And those locker rooms were just depressing. Full of leftover air from the ice and stressed out girls in full make up.

Writing and illustrating a memoir means drawing younger you a lot - did you find that easy/difficult/in-between? Did you refer to pictures?

I didn’t use pictures to reference. I was pretty easy to draw, luckily. I had long blonde hair and glasses, and I just sort of ran with that. I knew going into it that my drawings of myself would be interpretations, so I was ok with any inaccuracies.

What's the last thing you read (aside from your own work), and what are you reading now?

Omg, I love this question. I wish people asked me this more. SO, the last thing I read was The Devotion of Suspect X by Keigo Higashino, and it was totally amazing. But all the prose I read is almost entirely mystery or crime dramas. I’m a little obsessed. And currently I’m reading the next book after The Devotion of Suspect X, which is called Salvation of a Saint. They’re detective thrillers set in Tokyo. Come on, how could I not read this?

Tillie Walden is a two-time Ignatz Award–winning cartoonist from Austin, Texas. Born in 1996, she is a recent graduate from the Center for Cartoon Studies, a comics school in Vermont. Her comics include The End of Summer and I Love This Part, an Eisner Award nominee.

Interested in reading more about Spinning and Tillie? Check out the full tour schedule here, or just click on any of the links below!

9/11 — Tales of the Ravenous Reader
9/12 — Love is Not a Triangle
9/13 — The Book Rat
9/14 — YA Bibliophile
9/15 — Fiktshun
9/18 — Adventures of Cecelia Bedelia
9/19 — Book Crushin’
9/20 — YA Wednesdays

Have I convinced you to pick up Spinning yet? If not, check out my mini-review below!

Figure skating was Tillie Walden’s life. She woke before dawn for morning lessons, went straight to group practice after school, and spent weekends competing in glitter and tights. It was a central piece of her identity, her safe haven from the stress of school, bullies, and family. But as Tillie's interests evolve, from her growing passion for art to a first love realized with a new girlfriend, she begins to question how the close-minded world of figure skating fits in.

Poignant and captivating, this powerful graphic memoir captures what it's like to come of age, come out, and come to terms with leaving behind everything you used to know.

Tillie Walden grew up figure skating, and while she found success on the ice, she faced many challenges off it. Those awkward, weird, and sometimes wonderful young adult years are detailed in her beautifully illustrated graphic memoir, Spinning.

I identified strongly with Tillie’s experiences skating as both an individual and in a team – I was a competitive swimmer all the way through college. The isolation of competition, the gossip and enforced together-ness of the team all resonated. Pair that with Tillie’s scholastic struggles, her forays in youthful friendship, burgeoning artistic talent, and her relationship with her first girlfriend, and the book is brimming with all of the bits and pieces of life that seem to come at you 100mph during the teenage years. It’s not easy, of course, and Tillie’s experiences with bullies and worse are detailed as well. Tillie has written and illustrated not only her life from memory, but also a highly relatable book for teens and young women everywhere. It’s honest and beautiful and poignant and sad and all of the things that life is while you’re living it. I loved it.

Recommended for: young women ages 11 and up, especially introverts, artists, and those into sports.

Fine print: I received an advance copy of this title for review consideration. I did not receive any compensation for this post.

hallelujah! the welcome table

I read a lot as a child and young adult (I brought stacks of books on weekend camping trips… #justsaying), but I mostly read from lists of “classics” until I went to college.  Then, some modern (and by modern, I mean contemporary) American writers and poets crept into my consciousness via syllabi, regular newspaper reading, and the internet.  Still, I’d never read one of Maya Angelou’s books until a couple of weeks ago.  This despite having my interest in her history (and stories) rekindled when she passed away this past spring.  Given my focus here on the blog, it makes sense that the first Angelou title I would pick up would be her first cookbook, Hallelujah! The Welcome Table: A Lifetime of Memories with Recipes.

Throughout Maya Angelou’s life, from her childhood in Stamps, Arkansas, to her world travels as a bestselling writer, good food has played a central role. Preparing and enjoying homemade meals provides a sense of purpose and calm, accomplishment and connection. Now in Hallelujah! The Welcome Table, Angelou shares memories pithy and poignant–and the recipes that helped to make them both indelible and irreplaceable.

Angelou tells us about the time she was expelled from school for being afraid to speak–and her mother baked a delicious maple cake to brighten her spirits. She gives us her recipe for short ribs along with a story about a job she had as a cook at a Creole restaurant (never mind that she didn’t know how to cook and had no idea what Creole food might entail). There was the time in London when she attended a wretched dinner party full of wretched people; but all wasn’t lost–she did experience her initial taste of a savory onion tart. She recounts her very first night in her new home in Sonoma, California, when she invited M. F. K. Fisher over for cassoulet, and the evening Deca Mitford roasted a chicken when she was beyond tipsy–and created Chicken Drunkard Style. And then there was the hearty brunch Angelou made for a homesick Southerner, a meal that earned her both a job offer and a prophetic compliment: “If you can write half as good as you can cook, you are going to be famous.”

Maya Angelou is renowned in her wide and generous circle of friends as a marvelous chef. Her kitchen is a social center. From fried meat pies, chicken livers, and beef Wellington to caramel cake, bread pudding, and chocolate éclairs, the one hundred-plus recipes included here are all tried and true, and come from Angelou’s heart and her home. Hallelujah! The Welcome Table is a stunning collaboration between the two things Angelou loves best: writing and cooking.

This cookbook combines 28 vignettes (they could be called short stories or flashes of memory, too) centered around a particular recipe or meal menu, often connected to a friend or family member that made an impression on Angelou at some point in her life.  The cookbook progresses from her younger years growing up in her grandmother’s store to learning to cook Creole cuisine out of absolute necessity to recollections from later years and mentoring relationships.  It’s a story of a life, food and how it helps people to interact and connect with each other, and how cooking and hospitality can be used to understand the human condition.

The prose sections are easily the best part of this cookbook.  Angelou offers a variety of experiences and stories: some poignant, some funny, others tragic, courageous, homey and inspiring.  The selection is superb and ranges the entire emotional spectrum, much of the twentieth century, and geography that varies from the American South to Europe to California and back.  It's a window into Angelou's extraordinary life and experience as an African-American woman, artist and academic.  She lived, and wrote beautifully about it.

The food doesn’t sound half-bad, either (see: understatement, definition of).  There’s a mix here of southern comfort food, Cajun, traditional American classics and French fare.  It’s a combination born of a lifetime of moving, settling in somewhere new, and adapting to a changing world and new friends.   The recipes themselves are focused on main courses and sides suitable for lunch or dinner, and a few desserts.  It’s not very vegetarian-friendly or health-conscious, though there is one section at the end dedicated to vegetarian recipes. 

I tried two recipes: Crackling Corn Bread (Maya’s grandmother’s recipe, which she claimed was better than other peoples’ Sunday cake), and Pickled Peaches.  The peaches were a success!  Different than anything I’ve ever made before, in a good way.  They’d be perfect served with (regular) cornbread, chicken, and green beans.  The Crackling Corn Bread… was a flop.  I think this may have been due to my source of cracklings (chicharrones) more than the recipe itself.  It did smell amazing while it was baking!  But here, have the recipe that worked:

Pickled Peaches

INGREDIENTS

6 medium nearly ripe peaches, peeled and pitted

3/4 cup sugar

1/8 teaspoon salt

1/2 cup cider vinegar

1 cup orange juice

1 tablespooon whole cloves

2 cinnamon sticks

DIRECTIONS

Put peaches in large post, add sugar, salt, vinegar, juice, cloves, and cinnamon sticks, and cover with water.  Boil for 30 minutes. Take off stove, and let cool.  Put in refrigerator in its own liquid.  Discard cinnamon and cloves.  Serve cold.

One downside (if you want to call it that) of the cookbook is that the recipes have few “fine” directions. For example: Water necessary for the recipe isn’t listed in the ingredients section.  There aren’t any warnings like “do not overstir,” no mention of how many minutes to mix, or how fine to chop the ingredients.  The recipes are clearly meant to be more of a guide than precise chemistry.  If you’re the kind of cook who interprets things loosely and puts their own spin on recipes, this method will suit you down to the ground.

Hallelujah! is a treasure of a book, whether you try the recipes or not.  It’s worth owning for Angelou’s stories alone, though the food sounds mouth-watering as well. 

Recommended for: anyone who likes good food and a story well-told, and especially anyone interested in food culture and the American South.

I read and reviewed this book as part of the #diversiverse challenge.

Interested in other food-related posts?  Check out Beth Fish Reads' Weekend Cooking!

relish

If you browse around here at Adventures of Cecelia Bedelia, it’ll soon become apparent that I love food almost as much as I love books.  And in news that should surprise exactly no one, the recipe posts I occasionally put up are the most popular ones on my blog.  After all, food is one of the necessities of human existence.  I also consider books necessary, but I know I’m in the minority in thinking that.  Combine books and food, and we’re in business.  Lucy Knisley’s graphic novel memoir Relish does just that, with charm.

A vibrant, food-themed memoir from beloved indie cartoonist Lucy Knisley. 

Lucy Knisley loves food. The daughter of a chef and a gourmet, this talented young cartoonist comes by her obsession honestly. In her forthright, thoughtful, and funny memoir, Lucy traces key episodes in her life thus far, framed by what she was eating at the time and lessons learned about food, cooking, and life. Each chapter is bookended with an illustrated recipe—many of them treasured family dishes, and a few of them Lucy's original inventions. 

A welcome read for anyone who ever felt more passion for a sandwich than is strictly speaking proper, Relish is a book for our time: it invites the reader to celebrate food as a connection to our bodies and a connection to the earth, rather than an enemy, a compulsion, or a consumer product.

Lucy grew up as the daughter of foodies, and as such developed a taste for all things different and gourmet (and sometimes expensive!) at a young age.  Because she associates certain memories with food, it naturally made sense for her to write a food-based memoir, complete with recipes at the end of each chapter.  And as a talented illustrator, she can also share her memories in images.  Lucy’s upbringing in the kitchen and wonderful talent are on display in Relish, and her experiences from childhood through early adulthood come to life through her writing and art.

Of course Lucy doesn’t transcribe her experiences in a completely linear fashion.  She approaches each set of images as a separate piece of the puzzle, and though it may not be immediately apparent, she plays with perspective until each panel fits in the whole.  There’s no extraneous, self-indulgent filler – the medium won’t allow for it.  This, combined with subjects she clearly loves (food, family, travel, art), makes for a thoughtful, lively story that will appeal to graphic novel pros and newbies alike. 

I’m also convinced that Lucy and I would be friends.  It could happen!  (in my dreams…)  While each chapter/vignette in Relish has its own charm, my favorite part of Lucy’s story was her obvious love and respect for her mother, which is visible on almost every page.   I too credit a lot of my own quirks and character to a loving family and food.  In all, Relish is a delightful change of pace, and it made me happy and proud to be a budding foodie.  I can’t wait to try Lucy’s  Spice Tea (chai) recipe!

Recommended for: anyone who enjoys graphic novels (or is hoping to start reading them), foodies, and those who enjoy YA memoirs.  Probably most appropriate for readers ages ten and up.

Interested in other food-related posts?  Check out Beth Fish Reads’ Weekend Cooking!

Fine print: I received an electronic advanced copy for review from First Second (Macmillan) via NetGalley.  And then I got the book from my local library because I didn’t finish it in time.