"Dark" Graphic Novels: "Swimming In Darkness," and "Home After Dark"

Swimming In Darkness by Lucas Harari

First, let’s start with the premise of the work:

“Pierre is a young man at a crossroads. He drops out of architecture school and decides to travel to Vals in the Swiss Alps, home to a thermal springs complex located deep inside a mountain. The complex, designed by architect Peter Zumthor, had been the subject of Pierre’s thesis. The mountain holds many mysteries; it was said to have a mouth that periodically swallowed people up. Pierre, sketchbook in hand, is drawn to the enigmatic powers of the mountain and its springs, and attempts to uncover the truth behind them in the secret rooms he discovers deep within the complex. But he finds his match in a man named Valeret who is similarly obsessed, and who’d like nothing more than to eliminate his competitor.”

With that said, Swimming in Darkness is an interesting little graphic novel. In some ways, it is grounded in the real world. The “Therme Vals,” (a spa located in Switzerland) and its designer, Peter Zumthor, are both very real. From there, however, everything is on the table, from local legend to fantastical events. What did I think of the work, then? Read on to find out.

What Worked For Me:

There is definitely something compelling at the heart of this story. I found the premise to be quite interesting, and in particular its mixture of the real and the fictional, of folklore and the fantastical.
The art style is certainly interesting; it has a minimalist style and charm. The art struck me as a moodier version of Hergé’s Tintin. I also found the scenes of the bathhouse’s interior to be especially stark and attention grabbing. Harari was successful at conveying a feeling of the main character’s smallness, like the walls of the bathhouse could swallow someone up.
Though the story goes a bit off the rails at the end, it is effective at generating an atmosphere, a mood. There is an air of mystery to the proceedings.

What Didn’t Work For Me:

I understand that not every story is going to have a clear-cut ending. This story, however, leaves so much hanging that I found it unsatisfying. For example: What happened to Pierre? Why did Testin die when he did? Was Pierre the one that interrupted Valeret’s TED talk? Moreover, how did Valeret and Pierre end up at the Therme Vals at the same time as Pierre? To me, it seems like a plot contrivance more than anything.
I’m lukewarm on the framing device used to tell the story (documents from the author’s father). On one hand, I see how it was necessary; after all, the story’s protagonist, Pierre, has disappeared by the end of the story. It also contributes to the verisimilitude of the story by adding in real people and places (such as Harari’s father, for example). On the other hand, the frame doesn’t really do much else. I’m not sure that the story would be profoundly different without it.
Though the text of the work explicitly encourage Pierre to, “trust no one,” most of the people that he interacts with seem like decent, honest people. This realization really took the wind out of the story’s “noir” sails.

Conclusion:

I wanted to like this story. It has both an art style and a vibe that creates an atmosphere of mystery and intrigue. With that being said, the story simply leaves too much unsaid to provide a satisfying payoff (in my opinion). Unless the premise really speaks to you, I would probably skip this one. I’m glad I borrowed it from the library instead of paying full price; otherwise, I would’ve been doubly disappointed.

Check it out here.

Home After Dark by David Small

Just like before, let’s check out the publisher’s blurb on the work:

Wildly kaleidoscopic and furiously cinematic, Home After Dark is a literary tour-de-force that renders the brutality of adolescence in the so-called nostalgic 1950s, evoking such classics as The Lord of the Flies. Thirteen-year-old Russell Pruitt, abandoned by his mother, follows his father to sun-splashed California in search of a dream. Suddenly forced to fend for himself, Russell struggles to survive in Marshfield, a dilapidated town haunted by a sadistic animal killer and a ring of malicious boys who bully Russell for being “queer.” Rescued from his booze-swilling father by Wen and Jian Mah, a Chinese immigrant couple who long for a child, Russell betrays their generosity by running away with their restaurant’s proceeds. Told almost entirely through thousands of spliced images, once again “employ[ing] angled shots and silent montages worthy of Alfred Hitchcock” (Washington Post, on Stitches), Home After Dark becomes a new form of literature in this shocking graphic interpretation of cinema verité.

I stumbled on this book while browsing my local library’s selection of eBooks. I chose it on a whim, primarily based on the cover. What did I think of the work? Read on to find out.

What Worked For Me?

I found the parallels between Mr. Mah and Russell, as offered by Wen Mah, to be some of the most affecting in the work. I also appreciated the unflinching look the work provided at a troubled adolescence in 50’s America. The work does not shy away from topics of alcoholism, racism, homophobia, and more. Finally, while the work is unafraid to tackle difficult topics, it is not so bleak as to feel completely hopeless. There is community, friendship, and comfort to be found, even if those things are few and far between.

What Did I Struggled With?

I struggled a bit with the art style. It’s certainly evocative, but it’s also worlds away from some of the other comics and graphic novels I’ve been reading lately. Neither is better or worse, of course, but it did take a bit of adjustment. Beyond that, this is not a story of empowerment; instead, it centers around cruelty (to both animals and humans), abandonment, and suicide. Those who are sensitive to such topics may want to steer clear of this work.

I also had mixed feelings about how the story handles sex and sexuality. On one hand, nothing about the work broke my suspension of disbelief, especially given the setting (50’s Northern California). The story also included poignant images exploring the topic. On the other hand, a presumably-LGBT character is beaten on-page and commits suicide off-page. I was left wondering: what did the main character take away from this other than the cruelty of this world? What was the point of all this suffering?

Conclusion:

The work is particularly effective at establishing a tone, a mood; the sense of loneliness is palpable. While this is not a graphic novel for children or the faint of heart, those who are looking for a gritty look into the life of a kid in 50’s Northern California may enjoy this work.

Check it out here.