Confessions of Book Snob, or, How I Started Reading Comic Books and Graphic Novels
I‘m somewhat new to the medium of comics in general and graphic novels in particular, which is odd because for 15 years I’ve been married to a guy who owns hundreds, if not thousands, of comic books. They’re all bagged, boarded, and stored away where the kids can’t get their sticky little fingers on them — unless they ask first. I admit I’ve been a bit of a book snob, looking down on comics as a lesser form of storytelling, as genre unworthy of my precious little free time, rather than as a legitimate storytelling medium or format that works well for many genres. Until recently, I not only had no interest in comics, but I actively stayed away from them. I mean, really, aren’t comic books for kids?
Why, yes they are! Some of them, anyway. (But many, if not most, are not.) And miraculously one day my kids started reaching the age where they could appreciate comic books. And poof! I was seeing comic books lying around the house. Turns out, comic books are a fantastic medium for my son because he’s still learning to read. He can follow the basic storyline of a decent comic book even if he can’t read the text. And comic books don’t make him feel like he’s reading a “baby book,” as some of the cute-little-bunny-laden early readers make him feel. Plus, even after he’s read a comic book to himself, he still wants me or my husband to read him the book from cover to cover, so he eventually understands the entire story.
Thanks to my kids, I now read comic books somewhat frequently. And I’ve read a few graphic novels, too, which are becoming much more popular and are being published in much greater numbers than ever before. To my surprise, I actually like a lot of what I’m reading. My biggest problem is that I focus too much on the text. I have to remind myself to actually look at the illustrations to get the full gist of the story. My son and I are reading opposites: I’m so accustomed to reading just text that I often read only the text on a page and then think to myself, “I’m missing something.” My son looks only at the illustrations and walks away feeling that he basically understands what’s happening. I’m the expert reader, but he comprehends more. Go figure.
I’ve acknowledged my comic-book snobbery to my husband and begged his forgiveness. Well, not really. But I did make amends last spring by suggesting we attend a local comic book convention with the kids. On a cold, rainy Saturday (say hello to spring in New England), we ventured out and returned home with a little less cash and a lot more new (to us, anyway) books to read.
