An Amazing Retro Concept explored by Amanda Sledz, who has a far too
cerebral of an understanding of comics, and just about anything else.
Spiral Bound by Aaron Renier
Marietta: Top Shelf Books, 2005
many of you, I can't use my everyday outlets for escapism (like US Weekly) because in light of present
circumstances, it's just embarrassing to sit in a coffee shop with that open in your lap. However, it's
never too late to flashback to childhood times of blissful ignorance and inability to read all the words in
a headline. Spiral-Bound is not a graphic novel, it's a comic, a book with an element of purity to it, an
encapsulated innocence en route to escapism transporting us to an island immune from present-
tense. In short, hallelujah, it's an illustrated sigh of relief.
Some of you might be thinking: what do you mean this isn't a graphic novel? It clocks in around 181
pages! Well yeah, but sometime after Art Spiegelman entered comic book orbit with his “comix” and
high-octane literary and visual masterpiece Maus, the under and above-ground world of comics took a
more cerebral turn. With the exception of a handful of noteworthy little-knowns (Jack Jackson
immediately comes to mind), prior to Spiegelman comics were generally considered children's turf, and
the material within their pages directed towards a 12-and-under (and 30 year-old living in his mother’s
basement) audience. Spiegelman demonstrated just how much can be done with the form, and how a
child’s medium can be used to explain complicated (and seemingly inaccessible) subject matter to a
vast audience. The above-ground world finally saw in Pulitzer-prize winning glory how complicated
emotional experiences and conflicting desires can be conveyed through illustration—especially when
backed by potent words. Thus came the birth of the graphic novel, which I define (though some would
disagree) as comic books with serious intent.
Now, most bookstores have graphic novel sections; and a whole lot of people have books like
Persepolis and Safe Area Gorazde on their shelves, in addition to the Sandman and Invisibles
standards and the brilliant fiction/nonfiction genre-blurs of Goodbye Chunky Rice and Blankets. But
whatever happened to the comic book? I’m not talking about X-Men, Superman, or any other collection
featuring leotard-wearing men and damsels in distress (they never went away), but the sort of comic
that leaves one lingering in the safe space of childhood squishiness, that calls to mind laying in the
sun and flipping through carefully preserved pages, giggling and tracing favorite drawings. The
popularity of books like Harry Potter offer a strobe-light subtle signal that kids enjoy a little thing called
imagination, and adults are wanting to get back in touch with that long last friend, too.
Which brings us to Spiral Bound, a comic with a style of illustration that calls Richard Scarry to mind,
taking us back to the days of cartoon animals as animals, as opposed to metaphors or similes. (Right
now I'm wondering if Renier will respond to this comparison the way Turnip responded to being
compared to his teacher's former mentor: yelling "ugh!". Snicker.) Though my cerebral head still begs
for a sort of story chocked-full of bleeding heart angst interspersed with moments of comic relief to kill
the potential for the whole reading experience to be overwhelming, my kid-sense tells me to sit down,
get a kiddie snack with excess packaging, and read.
Starring Turnip the Elephant and Ana the Rabbit, both characters are introduced anticipating lonely
summer days ahead of them. Turnip's fate changes when Stucky Hound convinces him to take part in
an art camp taught by a whale, Ms. Skrimshaw, who lives in a giant tank on wheels (cool idea, by the
way. He even thought to include air for the blow-hole). While Turnip learns the finer points of being a
sculptor, Ana is recruited to write for an underground newspaper called the Scoop, and finds the
mystery of a monster said to occupy a nearby pond irresistible. While both attempt to accomplish their
artistic goals, they learn lessons in judging others prematurely and acting with ignorance, not to
mention interacting peaceably with other animals and avoiding witch-hunts. Cue the heartwarming
music...
To explore thing technically, I'll begin by saying that someone deserves kudos for the unique
packaging of the book. Designed to look like a worn-out notebook covered (including coffee stains I
would have supplied myself anyway), it's eye-catching without being too clever for its own good. This
worn-out look is also a great theft deterrent for those living in steal-everything-but-the-kitchen-sink
Portland.
Renier's strengths are two-fold: imagination and illustration. While some crowds get into the "looks-like-
a-doodle" style of some of the newer artists, I'm more a fan of overt displays of skill and talent, and
that's a bragging right Renier can easily claim. He's careful with his characters and always allows them
stylistic consistency, and doesn't (for example) have a suddenly huge rabbit standing next to an equally
-sized elephant. Renier's talents allow his characters to convey a wide range of emotion, and to
perform a number of complicated action-scenes that suck a reader in. He's equally practiced in terms
of creation of landscape. From a monster-filled pond to a system of underground tunnels guiding the
covert operations of the Scoop, Renier operates with the intention of taking us there, and for that he's
to be commended.
In the writerly-sense of things, he does a good job of crafting dialogue to convey the awkwardness of
Turnip and the fast-chattering brain of Ana, guiding you further into the story with a glimpse at their
insecurities and motivations. Renier also has precious moments of "silence" where the dialogue
disappears and we understand the scene (such as Turnip dreaming) through the visual experience
alone. In fact, I wish there had been more of these moments.
However, as someone who generally explores comics and graphic novels with a higher degree of
seriousness (I'm the over-educated version of the 30 year-old living in his mother's basement) I think
Renier still has room for improvement in terms of story development. The storylines of Ana and Turnip
are jaggedly connected by Turnip's implied crush on Viola, a mouse who performs double duty as
Ana's best friend. Because she exists as an actual character only at the beginning and end, the
connection is perpetuated by Ana's missing of her and Turnip's humiliation at seeing his crush
exposed. Since she doesn't exist throughout as a physical character, she manifests more as a
convenient object, and this disrupts flow and makes Viola seem more like a throw-away character who
wouldn't die.
While the dialogue in many instances is great, at other moments I felt frustrated that I wasn't allowed to
draw my own conclusions. For example: Turnip walks out with a sad face. The first comment is, "Why
so glum?" It's not enough for us to see that he's sad, it has to be announced. While I don't expect all
illustrator's to opt for Annie-eyes for the sake of allowing the reader to transfer his or her own
emotions to the experience, I would like to be able to read this book to a kid and have the, "What's
wrong with the elephant?" conversation, where I can then ask, "What do you think?" Illustration begs
for a level of active engagement that you just can't pull off in telling (or writing) a story, and I think it
would benefit Renier to attempt to employ this more often.
A more compacted focus would keep the story from feeling rushed after lingering at the beginning, and
eliminating throw-away characters who just stop by to say hi or wow would lead to less distraction and
a deeper intimacy between the reader and characters they are looking to identify with. For me, I need
to be able to describe the story to another person in terms of a few lines and a subtle theme, to say,
"it's about two people in love" or "it's about taking risks" and there are too many ways to do this with
Spiral-Bound. A part of me can’t help but ask the question: what’s your point? While a meandering
sort of story is acceptable (and even encouraged) in a smaller comic book format, it manifests as
somewhat tedious in the full-on book format.
It took me forever to write this review, because my reviews tend to be bipolar: either blown-away or so
deeply in hate I want to burn every copy on a pyre. Spiral-Bound inspired neither reaction, but I
couldn't let myself chew and offer an "it tastes like chicken" sort of review. We're talking about a first
book here, an achievement that will earn an audience and respectful appreciation of a
writer/illustrator's potential and already-realized talent.
I've read several reviews who called this offering from Renier a "masterpiece" and I think that's unfair
to Renier. He's just getting warmed up. We haven't seen his masterpiece yet. With the level of talent
he already displays, his advanced illustration technique, and superior imagination, we're dealing with a
new addition to the world of comics who comes to us armed to the teeth. If he adds to his already
potent arsenal an open-minded willingness to take his writing in new directions, I have a feeling as
readers we'll be enjoying not one future masterpiece, but several.
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