The best graphic novels that use environment as storyteller

I’d normally abstain from the pompous sin of quoting one’s own fiction, but I’m doing it here only to contextualize this recommendation.

“Adolescence is an exercise in coveting what exists just beyond our grasp,” my book’s narrator tells us in his preamble to his telling of Foster’s story. “It is this inaccessibility that sustains its magic.” To be fifteen is to be a voyeur looking wistfully in on the poignancy of others’ lives: this is the idea I tried to operationalize through the narrator’s project, with full knowledge that I’d never do it as lyrically as The Virgin Suicides. 

Nominally, the main characters of Eugenides’ debut are the five titular Lisbon sisters, who successively take their own lives, but we encounter them chiefly as figments of a collective imagination: in the captivated minds of a faceless group of teenage boys who witness the tragedies from afar.

As a sort of Greek chorus, these boys together reconstruct the Lisbons’ story, but it’s less the story of these girls’ deaths than of the boys’ own fascination, which refracts truth into mythology. 

Flannery O’Connor’s saturnine stories of the American South are jewels of American literature.

They are laced with humor and violence but are at the same time deeply spiritual. In fact, the Catholic Church banned her work until it was discovered that her stories were written to show Grace in the lives of her parochial characters.

In Everything That Rises Must Converge, a story from A Good Man is Hard to Find and Other Stories published in 1955, O'Connor writes about Julian, a young college-educated writer who lives with his mother in a decadent neighborhood that lost its prominence as the Old South faded.

His mother who believes she must uphold the dignity of her family's antebellum name insists on "keeping up appearances." For instance, she likes to tell folks that Jason's first job as a writer "selling typewriters" was a good sign because "Rome wasn't built in a day."

She wears a new green ostentatious hat with a feather in its crown when she and Julian ride a newly integrated bus downtown to the YMCA for her weekly reducing class.

While on the bus a heavyset black lady wearing the same exact hat boards and shatters Julian's mother's illusion that the white aristocracy of her childhood is still alive. How else could a colored lady afford the same hat?

Again and again, O'Connor employs humor to teach the most profound lessons. Everything that Rises Must Converge is just one of many delightful O’Connor stories that peer into the depths of the dark human spirit and still manage to lighten my heart. 

Mirka is a dreamer, unlike what her Orthodox Jewish family expects of her: to prepare herself for a future husband, to help around the house, to knit, to study. She dreams of witches, of trolls, and of fighting dragons. 

I loved the character of Mirka: bravely standing up to local bullies, cleverly outwitting the giant knitting troll, and also dealing—more or less successfully—with parental expectations and a large number of siblings. 

I found the mix of fantasy and cultural traditions delightful. I loved the few words of Yiddish sprinkled here and there (with their translation), and the cozy world of the Sabbath during which even concerns about trolls must stop. This is a really fun and funny book.