100 books like Crawl Space

I love the look of late-1960s psychedelic art, which I associate with Peter Max and the animated movie Yellow Submarine. The style is one of simple linework filled with intense colors, to which are added decorative elements and optical effects.

A French cartoonist, Caza, brings this style to Kris Kool, his 1970 erotic science-fiction graphic novel. Like a male version of Barbarella, space traveler Kris Kool experiences bizarre and surreal adventures, many of them sexual. The plot is well constructed and carried me along with its surprising turns. There is no depiction of drug use, but the fantasies and imagery make reading it as trippy an experience as one can find between the covers of a book.

I treasure this book for the artwork. The rather simple story tells of Albert Hofmann’s creation of LSD 25 on April 19, 1943, in a Sandoz laboratory in Switzerland. That day is known as Bicycle Day because after accidentally ingesting the chemical, Hofmann had a powerful psychedelic experience as he rode his bicycle home.

This trip is vividly depicted in a lengthy series of full- and double-page spreads, which become increasingly bizarre and hallucinatory as they go along. Blomerth’s cartoony but precise style is warm and whimsical, and he adds striking graphic effects to it. The art is presented to its best advantage on matte ivory stock that sets off the intense colors, which include Day-Glo colors. 

I was fascinated and appalled to learn of the CIA’s Project MK-Ultra, a long-running program in which the CIA dosed unwitting victims with LSD to study its effects and potential as a mind-control weapon. The subject has been covered in other books, but this graphic novel, illustrated by Stewart Kenneth Moore, brings this alarming tale to life visually.

His garish colors and mind-warping graphics depict the hallucinatory experiences in a sometimes appealing but more often terrifying manner. Moore’s art also gives the straight narrative elements of the story a warped, dreamy quality, imbuing even mundane reality with the disturbing quality of an acid flashback.

My mind was blown when I encountered the work of Philippe Druillet in the mid-1970s. This French cartoonist is considered one of the greatest of them all, creating alien worlds of startling originality and stupefying grandeur. Fifty years later, his work is as startling and original as it appeared back then.

No one has surpassed his ability to depict scenes of such mind-boggling scale and otherworldliness, as if he had a unique glimpse of some higher realm. As a young cartoonist, I was strongly influenced by Druillet, who inspired me with his demonstration of what it was possible to achieve in the comic book form. His work is not drug-oriented but depicts the sort of visions those who take hallucinogens would hope to experience.

My writing class encourages us to write memoirs about that time we were “the worst person in the room.” Mistakes make main characters vulnerable and relatable. As Nat pursues her first crush and alienates her friends, she turns into the kind of person you wish you could take aside for harsh truths before she ruins her life. Nat bumbles her way to better choices and there’s nothing more relatable than that.

As a child of Japanese immigrants, I did well in school and led a pretty tidy existence. But I was an adventurous reader, curious about how other teenagers led their lives. This book – wow! The title alone drew me in.

The “hamburger” refers to the advice a young woman is given to distract a man who is “on the make.” But the woman —and the reader—quickly learn going out for a burger doesn’t neutralize a teenager’s lust. Certainly, issues surrounding sex, pregnancy, and societal expectations have changed significantly over the years, so some language and circumstances in this novel don’t age well.

What remains true is the empathy with which the author depicts his characters and the honesty in how he depicts the complexities of making choices and growing up.

I read Fagell’s first book, Middle School Matters, before my oldest child started middle school and this one, Middle School Superpowers, the summer before my middle child started middle school and found both eased the rocky transition.

I felt so reassured by this book that middle school years do not have to actually be the worst, and my kids this age are capable of pretty amazing things. When I opened my eyes to that possibility, instead of dreading the doom-and-gloom stereotypes, I could see my own kids’ strengths and superpowers.

Reading this also reminded me that when they falter it’s part of normal growing up and not because I messed up. 

When I read this book as a young teen I admired the freedom the young characters had to be absorbed in their own worlds, and, as a result, constantly getting into scrapes and suffered scolding. Much later I re-read this and was struck by the comic magic of Tom and his friends, assumed to have died, returning to witness their own funeral. Here the boys who were constantly found wanting are now being praised without reservation. This reveals the see-saw action of the adolescent self: one moment teens see themselves as wonderful, beloved, treasured, and at another cast down, and always they carry around an “imaginary self” where they cannot escape concern about how people see them. 

This is a book about my life—growing up in the middle of the twentieth century. Bobby Soxers, juvenile delinquents, popular music, MTV, Freedom Riders, Anti-War protestors…it’s all here, along with much more. It isn’t about the good old days; this book takes us to the heart of the culture created decades ago and still influencing us today. We knew teenage life was complex and this book reveals just why that is the case. You’ll wish it came with a playlist.

On the surface, this is a coming-of-age story with a protagonist similar to many others in the genre—bright, witty, snobbish, and pissed off at almost everybody he meets. But what makes this book so good is the narrator’s intelligence and self-awareness, and the complexity of all the characters and their relationships. 

My own upbringing was a far cry from the wealthy, highly-cultured world depicted here—I grew up in a tiny town in southern Iowa, and though there was a college in town I had little access to culture—yet I could completely relate to the gay narrator’s fish-out-of-water feeling and his desire to be understood. I also loved his close relationship with his grandmother, since my grandmother was equally important to me.