Introduction: Coloring America: Multi-Ethnic Engagements with Graphic Narrative

Author(s): Derek Parker Royal

Source: MELUS , Fall, 2007, Vol. 32, No. 3, Coloring America: Multi-Ethnic Engagements
with Graphic Narrative (Fall, 2007), pp. 7-22
Published by: Oxford University Press on behalf of Society for the Study of the Multi-
Ethnic Literature of the United States (MELUS)

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Introduction: Coloring America:
Multi-Ethnic Engagements with Graphic
Narrative

Derek Parker Royal

Texas AM University-Commerce

Comics are a composite text made up of words and images that,

taken together, can have an impact far different from that produced
by more traditional modes of narrative such as the short story or
the novel. Much like film, comics rely on a visual language that
encourages a more immediate processing time within the reader
and, on the level of interpretation, a more "efficient" exchange
between author(s) and audience-at least when compared to purely
language-based mediums. This is not to suggest that comics are a
more passive means of narrative (as many of its detractors have
historically argued), nor does it assume any lack of ambiguity of
intent or indeterminacy of meaning in graphic narrative. The
images that serve as referential icons fall prey to the same kind of
semantic slippage found in linguistic codes (which themselves, in
the form of letters and words, also function as icons of meaning).
Nonetheless, there is something relatively "direct" about an
image's ability to affect reader response. The figures that make up
the comics rub up against reality in ways that words cannot,
revealing the various assumptions, predispositions, and prejudices

that author-illustrators may hold.

This power underlying the comic image becomes all the more
evident when placed within the context of race and ethnicity. As
legendary writer/illustrator Will Eisner points out, comics are a
heavily coded medium that rely on stereotyping as a way to
concentrate narrative effectiveness. He argues that unlike film,
where characters have more time to develop, graphic narrative,
with its relatively limited temporal space, must condense identity

MELUS, Volume 32, Number 3 (Fall 2007)

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8 ROYAL

along commonly accepted paradigms. Typing characters along

physical, gestural, and even occupational assumptions "speeds the
reader into the plot and gives the teller reader-acceptance for the
action of his characters" (20). However, the "accursed necessity,"
as Eisner puts it (17), of narrating through stereotypes takes on
critical resonance when filtered through an ideological prism.
Authors may expose, either overtly or through tacit implication,
certain recognized or even unconscious prejudices held by them
and/or their readers. In comics and graphic art there is always the
all-too-real danger of negative stereotype and caricature, which
strips others of any unique identity and dehumanizes by means of
reductive iconography-the big noses, the bug eyes, the buck
teeth, and the generally deformed features that have historically
composed our visual discourse on the Other.1 Witness, for exam-
ple, the depiction of Africans in Tintin in the Congo (1931), the
second Tintin adventure story from Belgian writer Herg; side-
kicks and antagonists such as The Spirit's Ebony White, Red
Ryder's Little Beaver, and Wonder Woman's Egg Fu; Angelfood
McSpade, the "lovable darkie" created by Robert Crumb for Zap
Comix in 1968; the racially-tinged violence of Barry Blair's comic
book mini-series, Ripper (1989-90); and, more recently, the twelve
editorial cartoon depictions of Muhammad published in the Danish
paper, Jyllands-Posten, in 2005, or even the Holocaust denial
cartoon contest initiated as a reaction to the Muhammad editorials.2
This special issue of MELUS addresses the possibilities, and
even the potential liabilities, of comics when representing ethnora-
cial subject matter. In many ways, it is a response to what several
critics of graphic narrative have seen as a defining mark of Ameri-
can popular culture: its problematic relationship to ethnic differ-
ence. Rebecca Zurier implies that scholarly studies of comics
should focus less on the impact made by a few "exceptional
talents" and more on how they have excluded a number of margin-
alized voices (102). Scott McCloud argues that in order to be taken
seriously as a creative art form and stand alongside more tradi-
tional forms of literary narrative, contemporary comics should not
only directly address the current state of race relations in the
United States, but also reclaim the history of minority participation
in the comic book industry (Reinventing Comics 109). Similarly,
Matthew J. Pustz sees comics as a potential medium to take on

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COLORING AMERICA 9

issues of diversity and otherness. "America would be a better

place," he asserts, "if [alternative] voices could be heard in forums
that were more accepting of outsiders. The truth is, we as a country
need both a common (although diverse) cultural language that is
used in a public forum in which everyone can participate and
specific cultural sites where quirky, nonmainstream tastes and
views can be allowed to grow and develop" (24-25).3 For Zurier,
McCloud, Pustz, and the authors in this special issue of MELUS,
comics function as an appropriate cultural site for this kind of
critical engagement. The essays and reviews in this issue follow up
on a promise made in the silver age of comic books (roughly
between the late 1950s and the early 1970s), articulated most
famously in an issue of Denny O'Neil's Green Lantern/Green
Arrow (no. 76, Apr. 1970). In it, an elderly African American man
admonishes the Green Lantern for his selective heroism: "I been
readin' about you ... How you work for the blue skins ... And
how on a planet someplace you helped out the orange skins ...
And you done considerable for the purple skins! Only there's skins
you never bothered with ... ! The black skins! I want to know ...
How come?!" And to this, the superhero shyly responds, "I . . .
can't."4 In the shadow of such sentiments, the various contributors
to this issue map out the theoretical, literary, and historical con-
texts of graphic narrative and their links to multi-ethnic subjectiv-
ity.
Because of its foundational reliance on character iconography,
comics are well suited to dismantle those very assumptions that
problematize ethnic representation, especially as they find form in
visual language. They can do this by particularizing the general,
thereby undermining any attempts at subjective erasure through
universalization. As Art Spiegelman makes clear, "Cartoons
personalize; they give specific form to stereotypes," an aesthetic
move aptly illustrated in his Pulitzer Prize-winning Maus: A
Survivor's Tale (1986, 1991), where the mouse heads become
masks, "a white screen the reader can project on" ("Mightier" 46).
Indeed, McCloud points out this almost counterintuitive ability of
comics to specify, and personalize, through the indeterminate. He
notes that the broader or more abstract a cartoon figure is de-
picted-that is, the more iconic its features are-the closer we
come to identifying with that subject. As a result, nonrepresenta-

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10 ROYAL

tional illustrations invite readers to "mask themselves" in a char

ter and identity with his or her (or its) world. Conversely, a m
photo-realistic style, which should theoretically emphasize the
particularity of its subject matter, has the tendency to create a
distance between reader and character, and in so doing emphasizes
the "otherness" of the subject (Understanding Comics 43-44).
McCloud and Spiegelman describe what I would call here the
paradoxical effect of ethnic identification in comics. Graphic
narrative, in allowing the reader to "mask" him- or herself in its
non-mimetic figuration, invites empathy with the nondescript
"Other" on the comic page, thereby encouraging the reader to
connect to other experiences and other communities that might
otherwise have been unfamiliar. As Gilbert Hernandez puts it in
his interview for this special issue, "the more ethnic a piece is ...
the more universal it is."
However, the significance of ethnic identity in comics is by no
means limited to iconography or static imagery. The way figures
are contextualized within a panel or laid out upon page, as well as
their physical or speech behaviors, can tell us much about the
construction of the ethnoracial subject. Because time is spatialized
in graphic narrative, where readers see the character development
across panels, comics can underscore the fluidity of ethnic identity.
As Charles Hatfield observes, the "representation of time through
space, and the fragmentation of space into contiguous images,
argue for the changeability of the individual self-the possibility
that our identities may be more changeable, or less stable, than we
care to imagine" (126). In this way, comics' spatio-topical system,
as Thierry Groensteen puts it (21), can help reveal the dynamics of
ethnoracial discourse. Groensteen defines the spatio-topical
parameters of comics as being concerned with "two orders of
curiosity: the description of figures (panels) in itself, and the
observation of their situated coordinates" (168). So the spaces of
graphic storytelling-the word balloons, the frame of the individ-
ual panels, the gutter (the "blank" space between panels), the strip
(the horizontal ban of panel arrangement), and the page layout
itself-foreground relational perspective between and among
individual subjects. Such visual strategies are an essential compo-
nent of multi-ethnic graphic narrative, writing that by its very

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COLORING AMERICA 11

nature relies upon themes of cultural context and contingency to

generate meaning.

Yet even the term "graphic narrative"-used throughout this

issue in conjunction with multi-ethnic narrative-is contested.
Eisner characterizes it as "any narration that employs image to
transmit an idea," while at the same time pointing out that film
itself could be considered a form of graphic narrative. He distin-
guishes this from "comics" which he defines as the "printed
arrangement of art and balloons in sequence, particularly in comic
books" (6). While this differentiation is not without its limitations,5
the subsequent essays and reviews will retain this relation, employ-
ing "comics" when referring to sequential illustrations or images
whose meaning is contextualized within the page layout (or mise
en page), and "graphic narrative" when referring to a broader
mode of storytelling in which images are an inextricable compo-
nent. For instance, Mine Okubo's picture novel Citizen 13660,
while not considered by most to be an example of comics-due
primarily to its lack of sequential imaging within a single page and
its lack of dialogue balloons or any variation of this verbal conven-
tion-would certainly serve as an example of graphic narrative
due to its unqualified reliance upon image-based storytelling, as
Zhou Xiaojing insightfully demonstrates in this special issue.
There is reasoning behind this terminology, which takes into
consideration both the imprecision and the inadequacy of other
commonly used terms. Of particular interest here is the much-used
label, "graphic novel," a term that will only be used in a limited
way within this special issue to specify an original work of long-
form graphic fiction. The significance of "graphic novel" resonates
in a number of ways relating to the reception of comics, and of
ethnic American graphic narrative in particular. More than any
other, this term is the one most embraced not only by many in the
critical community, but also by publishers and the wider reading
public to designate a medium of art that is worthy of our attention.
For better or for worse, "comics" suggests a kind of frivolousness
and ephemerality. However, there are a number of problems with
this "graphic novel" as a descriptive tag. Hatfield notes that while
"misleading from a literary standpoint, [graphic novel] is now
commonplace enough that it needs no air quotes around it" and
then goes on to employ it. He does this because, as he sees it, "a

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12 ROYAL

too-exclusive embrace of the term graphic novel risks eliding

much of what is interesting in comics history, mystifying the
economic relations on which the art form depends, and cheating us
of an appreciation of those great comics that do not look at all like
novels" (162). Hatfield's careful analysis of the graphic novel form
as a function of serialization and market forces is valuable, yet
there nonetheless remains here an acquiescence to nebulous
terminology. The matter is one of semantic precision, something
that needs to be addressed if we are serious about making generic
distinctions and understanding the fluid language we use to make
those distinctions.6
Accuracy of description is also potentially troublesome. The
"novel" part of the formula assumes, perhaps too readily, a congru-
ity with fictional prose. Because of this, some prefer the label
"graphic album" or even the French term bande dessinee. And
there are other problems of cohesiveness. As Hatfield has rightly
shown, serialized works make up the bulk of what are considered
graphic novels (153). Many longer and more "novelistic" graphic
works were originally serialized as smaller sections within individ-
ual comic book issues. Such is the case with Love and Rockets
(1981-1996, 2001-present), where many of Gilbert Hemandez's
Palomar stories, interspersed with the work of his brothers, were
culled to form longer books. "Graphic novels" are also created
when issues of an entire mini-series (titles sustained over a limited
period of time) are collected together, as we find in Alan Moore
and Dave Gibbons's Watchmen (1987), Steve Damall and Alex
Ross's Uncle Sam (1998), Joe Sacco's Palestine (2001), Adrian
Tomine's Summer Blonde (2002), Nunzio DeFilippis and Christina
Weir's Skinwalker (2003), Jessica Abel's La Perdida (2006), and
Jason Aaron and Cameron Stewart's The Other Side (2007). Yet
these works' serialized genesis does not seem at odds with our
common understanding of the novel, especially when we consider
that many nineteenth-century British and American novels were
published in installments or through subscription. To use an even
more recent example, Michael Chabon's Gentlemen of the Road
was serialized in The New York Times Magazine (28 Jan.-6 May
2007). Yet what becomes less clear is the practice of collecting as
one volume previous issues of an ongoing comic book series. With
series such as Neil Gaiman's The Sandman (1989-1996), Garth

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COLORING AMERICA 13

Ennis's Preacher (1995-2000), Brian K. Vaughan's Y: The Last

Man (2002-present), and Bill Willingham's Fables (2003-present)
comics within individual narrative arcs are collected and then
published together as a "graphic novel." In The Sandman, Gaiman
neatly and successfully wraps up the various story threads, so its
ten volumes compose a sort of epic with a novelistic feel. But how
do we approach comic book series still under production, such as
Fables? Do we still want to call each of its individual volumes,
which comprise four to six comic books each, a graphic novel,
especially given the fact that we know there will be a continuation
of the series and that the "novel" is not yet done? Publishers
regularly market their books as such, thereby encouraging our
already loose understanding of the concept of the graphic novel.
What is more, the "novel" part of the graphic novel equation is
equally imprecise. Although distinctions between fiction and non-
fiction can be fuzzy, we usually infer that novels are primarily
imaginary narratives distinguishable from more "real life" writings
such as memoir, autobiography, reportage, and criticism. Yet such
is not necessarily the case when it comes to comics. In any larger
bookstore, there usually will be a good-sized section devoted to
graphic novels, and on those shelves you will find works of
graphic fiction such as Howard Cruses's Stuck Rubber Baby
(1995) and Mark Kalesniko's Mail Order Bride (2001) lumped
together with Alison Bechdel's recent graphic memoir Fun Home
(2006), Joe Sacco's journalistic work Palestine and Safe Area
Goraide (2000), David Collier's historical vignettes in Portraits
from Life (2001), Ho Che Anderson's graphic biography King
(2005), illustrated editions of Edgar Allan Poe's The Raven,
anthologies such as Harvey Pekar's "Best of' edited collection for
Houghton Mifflin (2006), and even works of comics aesthetics
such as Eisner's Comics and Sequential Art (1985) and McCloud's
Understanding Comics (1993). Obviously, not all of these works
are "novels" or even fiction in the traditional sense, but because of
forces surrounding the direct market and trade publishers-and
perhaps because of the more popular need to categorize or come to
terms with a rather disparate collection of texts that appear to have
something visual in common-they are all considered either
"graphic novels" or "graphic fiction."7 Even the paramount exam-
ple of the graphic novel is not without its genre problems. Art

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14 ROYAL

Spiegelman's Maus reads more like a memoir than it does a work

of fiction, with the protagonist not so much telling the story of his
father's life-as one would do in a biography-but revealing
facets of his own life as he documents that of his parents in the
concentration camp. And yet this book is usually cited as one of
the main reasons for not only comics' recent respectability, but the
rise of the graphic novel. It is important to remember that Maus did
not win the Pulitzer Prize for fiction.
Given all of these considerations, the term "graphic narrative"
best captures the comics medium in most of its permutations. If we
define narrative as the representation of an event/action or a series
of events/actions, then most of what we see out there would

certainly qualify: various forms of fiction, memoir, auto

and journalism. In this way, we consider the narrativity of a
particular graphic text, its set of properties that characterize it as
narrative and distinguish it from non-narrative forms of graphic
representation.8 This would always be a matter of degree and
context, but saying that a comic contains more or less narrativity
would not be the same as making an aesthetic or cultural judgment
of value, however inadvertent those judgments might be.
Questions surrounding definitions and labels are also crucial in
another context: the "literary" merit of graphic narrative. As
scholars of multi-ethnic texts can attest, how texts are conceptual-
ized plays a large role in what is accepted in the classroom and
seen as "legitimate" within our various fields of scholarship. A
number of studies attempt a more inclusive understanding of
graphic narrative or comic art,9 yet there is nonetheless a tendency
by some to qualify the scope of comics as a viable area of critical
discourse, or at least as a topic for "serious" consideration. This
limitation usually takes the form of privileging "alternative"
graphic narratives and devaluing more generic-usually fantasy-
based or escapist-comics.
Some of this may be due in part to the sheer dominance of
superhero comics and their saturation of the market, usually to the
economic exclusion of non-genre or independent comics. (When
one hears the term "comic book," such figures as Superman,
Batman, Spider-Man, and the X-Men immediately come to mind.)
Furthermore, alternative or independent artists have themselves
been instrumental in formulating a loose "canon" of serious

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COLORING AMERICA 15

comics. In 2006, two impressive collections of graphic narrative

were published, both edited by highly regarded comics writers:
Ivan Brunetti's An Anthology of Graphic Fiction, Cartoons, and
True Stories (published by Yale UP), and Harvey Pekar's contribu-
tion to Houghton Mifflin's "Best American Series," The Best
American Comics, 2006. Neither of these collections feature
anything from mainstream comics publishers (DC Comics, Marvel,
or Dark Horse), which is curious given their titular ambitions to
"anthologize" or collect the "best" that has been published in
comic art.10 Pekar himself, long known for his aversion to conven-
tional comics, alerts the reader to the fact that "no superhero stuff
is included [in the collection]. I looked at superhero stories but just
didn't run across any that (I thought) were particularly good"
(xvii). He later concludes his introduction by chiding, in an almost
defensive matter, the "comics-is-for-kids" attitude he perceives as
the antithesis of his project: "even if you don't like every choice in
this collection, [comics] don't have to be about costumed superhe-
roes, cute little kids, and talking animals" (xxii). One wonders
what kind of mainstream comics Pekar sifted through when
compiling his volume. It is difficult to believe that not one fantasy
comic was published in recent years to rival even the weakest entry
in his collection.
This critical stance has also found its way into some recent
criticism. Journals such as the International Journal of Comic Art,
Inks: Cartoon and Comic Art Studies, and the online ImageText
have a (relatively) long and inclusive history of publishing essays
on a variety of graphic narrative forms-and some of this criticism
discusses race and ethnicity in comics. Yet scholarship in more
traditional English studies outlets (that is, journals and book
collections that do not specialize in comics) seems limited at best.
Most of these analyses focus on the work of Art Spiegleman or
other recent writer/illustrators known for "literary" sophistication
of form and theme in their work, such as Marjane Satrapi or Chris
Ware. One of the most striking examples of this is a recent special
issue of Modern Fiction Studies devoted to graphic narrative. The
editors of this volume point out that theirs is the "first special issue
in the broad field of modem and contemporary narrative devoted to
the form of graphic narrative" (Chute and DeKoven 767),
apparently dismissing such publications as ImageText and Popular

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16 ROYAL

Culture Studies as unengaged in the "broad field" of narrative

analysis. The editors then point out that there is not yet "an
established critical apparatus for graphic narrative. In fact, from a
literary perspective-as regards critical works by professional
academics-there is little rigorous critical apparatus for any genre
of comics" (770)." Such an assertion privileges the literariness-
and along with that, the critical value-of a graphic text. Only
those comics that are "serious" enough for literary investigation
should be given scholarly consideration. So it is perhaps
unsurprising that with few exceptions, the essays in this collection
focus exclusively on "hugely talented authors" (771) whose work
is nowhere near the mainstream of comics, underground and
"alternative" artists who define their work against conventional
comic genres and modes.

We would do well, here, to recall Rebecca Zurier's warnings

against limiting our readings of graphic narrative to a few "excep-
tional talents" (102) and instead look at the way that the medium
represents our culture on a much larger scale. It is understandable
that scholarship on graphic narrative should include innovators of
the medium like Spiegelman, Ware, and other "serious" authors-
especially given their attempts at expanding the form and subject
matter of their storytelling. However, such investigations should
not preclude the appreciation or the analysis of more generic or

mainstream forms of comics. In privileging the "marginal" within

graphic narrative-writers who feel alienated from or set
themselves against the mainstream industry-we may be
inadvertently marginalizing or "othering" an entire community of
writers, ethnic or otherwise, whose work resonates with multi-

ethnic import. The ways in which we conceptualize, represent, and

consume our superheroes, for instance, can speak volumes about
the ways we frame the ethnic subject. Discounting generic comics
from "serious" scholarly study would be analogous to overlooking
nineteenth-century sentimental women's fiction just because it was
formulaic, conventional, and had an enormous readership. Comics,
then, should be read not only as aesthetic works of narrative art,
but as rich cultural documents that can truly become vehicles of
American ethnoracial expression.
The essays and reviews that make up this special issue of
MELUS are drawn from the broadest field of comics analysis.

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COLORING AMERICA 17

They focus on graphic narrative in a variety of forms: daily str

one-panel cartoons, superhero comics, graphic history, under-
ground comix, gag strips, alternative comics, graphic novels,

ongoing comic book series, graphic albums, children's and adoles-

cent writing, comic journalism, and other kinds of graphic narra-
tive that cannot be easily categorized. The contributions look at
contemporary expressions of the form as well as examples from
the opening decades of the twentieth century. Some of the analyses
that follow are specifically concerned with ethnic American writers
and illustrators-and even question our very notions of the "eth-
nic" artist and the ways in which they contextualize their own
subject position. Others are more concerned with the strategies
authors employ to represent those outside of their own ethnic
communities.

The first two essays concern graphic narratives that reveal the
American ethnic subject in the middle of the twentieth century.
Edward Brunner focuses on Jackie Ormes, whose daily strip,
Torchy Brown, was the first syndicated comic by an African
American woman. He shows how Ormes translated the experi-
ences of the Harlem Renaissance into visual form, with the pere-
grinations of the strip's titular character paralleling much of what
occurred during the black migration in the early part of the century.
American racial history during this tumultuous period is also the
subject of Zhou Xiaojing's insightful analysis. She gives a close
reading to Mine Okubo's graphic memoir Citizen 13660, a mix of
traditional narrative and illustration that frustrates any attempt to
pigeonhole the "graphic novel" as a form. Zhou highlights how
Okubo employs "spatial-corporeal visualization" to reveal the
raced body and its relation to authority during Japanese American
internment in the 1940s.
Caricature and the ethnic subject is the focus of Menachem
Feuer's contribution to this special issue. Using the work of
brothers Drew and Josh Friedman, he maps out the contours of
"the freak" in popular culture of the 1970s and 1980s and links it
to Jewish representations of the schlemiel. Drawing on Susan
Sontag's critical writings on photography as well as the tenets of
1970s Pop Art, Feuer shows how the parodic process of "othering"
the ethnic body becomes a democratic act, where individual
subjects receive their moments of "fame" through the visual

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18 ROYAL

language of celebrity. Lysa Rivera, too, centers her analysis on the

disfiguration of the ethnic body. She reads Dwayne McDuffie's
racialized version of the superhero, Deathlok, as an analog for the
African American diaspora. Contextualized against such backdrops
as the classic Tarzan comics and Arnold Schwarzenegger's highly
iconic Terminator figure, Rivera uses the trope of the cyborg to
problematize blackness and argue for the always fragmented nature
of African American identity.
Sandra Oh's essay revolves around the work of Adrian Tomine,
one of the most significant graphic artists working today. She
argues convincingly that the body of Tomine's work reflects a
struggle with the ethnic self, where what is not stated-the various
visual icons and verbal signifiers of Asian Americanness-can be
just as telling as what is revealed on the comic page. Tomine's
resistance to racialized identity in his works, for which some Asian
Americans have criticized him, is called into question by his recent
efforts to confront Asian American subject matters. As a result,
one can read his semi-autobiographic comics as a chronicle of the
limits and responsibilities of ethnic representation. Ben Katchor's
work also concerns the individual subject's relationship to his
ethnic community. In her essay, Jennifer Glaser looks at Katchor's
most ambitious serialized work to date, The Jew of New York, as a
commentary on Jewish ethnic "authenticity." She argues that by
placing his narrative in an imagined Jewish past, Katchor has
created a graphic "historical romance" that reconceptualizes, and
revitalizes, contemporary ethnic identity in ways similar to recent
Jewish American novelists such as Michael Chabon and Jonathan
Safran Foer.
Essays by Michael Chaney and Leslie Paparone round out the
critical concerns of this special issue. In his contribution, Chaney
examines the revision of African American history in the recent
graphic narratives of Ho Che Anderson, Lance Tooks, and the
collaborative efforts of Aaron McGruder, Reginald Hudlin, and
Kyle Baker. He argues that in their works, these authors have
recontextualized current African American politics by graphically
re-visioning the enduring historical legacies of slavery, minstrelsy,
and economic apartheid. Paparone takes on the metatextual themes
of Mark Kalesniko's graphic novel, Mail Order Bride, in its
commentary on the unsteady role of art in representing the ethnic

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COLORING AMERICA 19

subject. She shows how Kalesniko juxtaposes pornography (a form

of photography that objectifies the body) and the "high" art of
creative photography (which purports to reveal the inner human
subject) in order to complicate issues of Asian American female
identity. The result, Paparone concludes, is a heterogeneous
understanding of Asian and Asian American womanhood that
radicalizes "othemess" by resisting both hypersexualized assimila-
tion and hyperfeminized exoticism.
My interview with Gilbert Hernandez provides another take on
ethnoracial themes in graphic narrative, one from an actual comics
artist. In it I ask him about the cultural impact of his (and his
brothers') comic book series, Love and Rockets, his fascination
with popular culture, and the roles of ethnicity and gender in
graphic narrative as a whole. The last part of this special issue
consists of a variety of reviews of critical works relating to comics,
graphic novels and collections, and even current comic book series
that engage multiculturalism in one form or another.
The goal of this special issue is not only to introduce readers to
a facet of ethnoracial narrative with which they might not other-
wise be familiar, that of graphic narrative, but to encourage teach-
ers of multi-ethnic writing to consider using comics in the class-
room. Graphic narrative is a varied medium. Scholars should
expand their understanding of ethnic American writing, as well as
the developing "canon" of comics itself, to include a wide range of
graphic narrative-from its most pedestrian expressions in the
popular media, to its fanboy base in mainstream comics, to its most
obscure manifestations in the niches of art culture.

Notes

There are several people whose support and assistance were central in pulling
together this special issue of MELUS. I thank Gilbert Hemandez for his time and
talent, not only for his commentary in the interview, but for providing, along
with colorist Adam Grano, the cover illustration. I am also grateful to Eric
Reynolds and individuals at Fantagraphics Books, as well as those at Drawn and
Quarterly, for providing avenues of communication with a number of profes-
sionals in the comics field. Thanks also to the writers and illustrators who spoke
with me and shared their insights on the place of race and ethnicity in graphic
narrative. These include Jessica Abel, Ho Che Anderson, Drew Friedman, Jaime
Hernandez, R. Kikuo Johnson, Mark Kalesniko, Ben Katchor, Keith Knight,
Scott McCloud, Trina Robbins, Wilfred Santiago, Robert Schmidt, James Sturm,
and Adrian Tomine. Finally, I am especially indebted to Veronica Makowsky

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20 ROYAL

and Martha J. Cutter, the former and current MELUS editors, for all of their
efforts regarding this project.

1. Art Spiegelman makes this point succinctly in his cover illustration for the
June 2006 issue of Harper's. In this issue, his article, "Drawing Blood," takes
on the recent controversy surrounding the Danish newspaper Jyllands-Posten
and the power of cartoons to stereotype as well as raise public awareness. His
satiric illustration is a smorgasbord of tried and true racist caricaturing, includ-
ing a poor African American with large red lips, bug eyes, and a pair of dice; a
homed Jew with a big nose and dollar signs all over his topcoat, as well as one
wafting from his cigar; a Chinese coolie, complete with bucked teeth and queue;
a turbaned Arab with a bloody assassin's dagger; a Mexican in a sombrero, with
a gun in one hand, a bottle of booze in another, and odor signs emanating from
his body; a drunken Native American in feathered headband and tomahawk; and
an Italian in fedora and pinstripes wielding a knife. For more sustained analyses
of racial stereotypes in comic books and newspaper strips, see Christian
Davenport, and Jack Glascock and Catherine Preston-Schreck.
2. The Muhammad cartoons originally appeared in the Jyllands-Posten on 30
September 2005, as part of their coverage on media self-censorship regarding
the criticism of Islamic fundamentalism. The result was massive-and at times
violent--protest throughout the Muslim world, reaching its crescendo in early
2006, part of which included an announcement in February from the Iranian
newspaper Hamshahari that it would sponsor a competition for the best political
cartoon depicting the "reality" of the Holocaust. For discussion of stereotypes in
the comics of Barry Blair, see Boyd; for discussion of stereotypes in Crumb, see
his interview. Herg6's Tintin in the Congo has been criticized as a racist and
colonialist text almost since its publication. In July 2007 the UK's Commission
for Racial Equality called the book's depiction of Africans inappropriate,
prompting Borders in that country to move the book from the children's section
to the adult graphic novels section.
3. Several museum exhibitions, showcasing the work of multiple artists, have
likewise underscored the links between comics and multi-ethnic expression. In
1986 (Sept. 15-Dec. 20) Philadelphia's Balch Institute for Ethnic Studies
sponsored Ethnic Images in the Comics, Atlanta's William Breman Jewish
Heritage Museum held ZAP! POW! BAM! The Superhero. The Golden Age of
Comic Books, 1938-1950 (24 Oct. 2004-28 Aug. 2005), and in 2007 (Apr. 5-
25) the Jackson State University Art Gallery presented Other Heroes: African
American Comics Creators, Characters and Archetypes. Catalogues have been
published for each of these exhibits.
4. As Marc Singer aptly says of this "heroic" exchange, "In other words,
superhero comics represented every fantastic race possible, as a means of
ignoring real ones" (111). Singer's is perhaps the most insightful analysis
available on the subject of race in superhero comics.
5. I agree with Eisner's technical inclusion of cinematic storytelling as a form of
graphic narrative, and as such, all references to graphic narrative throughout this
issue will exclude those of film. However, graphic narrative could also include

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COLORING AMERICA 21

fumetti, comics which use photographic images (along with balloons or dialogue
add-ons) as a basis for sequential storytelling. Eisner's definition also does not
adequately account for all forms of Internet-based comics (fumetti or otherwise),
especially those in which the narrative sequence is presented one image at a
time, somewhat similar to film, and not conceived as a page layout, or mise en
page. This limitation is primarily due to the dearth of online comics when Eisner
defined his terms in 1996.
6. Although commonly believed to be the first to go by such a generic marker,
Will Eisner's A Contract with God (1978) was not the first book to claim the
label "graphic novel." As Robert C. Harvey points out, publisher Richard Kyle
referred to the long-form comic book as a "graphic novel" in 1964, and in
George Metzger's 1976 work, Beyond Time and Again, the term appeared on
both the title page and the dust jacket flaps. Two other comic works from 1976,
Jim Steranko's Red Tide and Richard Corben's Bloodstar, referred to their
works as, respectively, a "visual novel" and a "graphic novel."
7. For a useful discussion of the direct market in comic sales and its impact on
the aesthetics of graphic narrative, see Hatfield (20-29).
8. One of the best (and eclectic) attempts to define "narrative" can be found in
the work of Luc Herman and Bart Vervaeck. Although they do not consider
comics in their analysis, their more inclusive understanding of sequentiality (12-
14) could rightly accommodate it.
9. Some of these more inclusive studies are those by M. Thomas Inge, David
Carrier, Robin Vamum and Christina T. Gibbons, Charles Hatfield, and Thierry
Groensteen.
10. Another graphic narrative collection that neglected mainstream comics was
Chris Ware's edition of McSweeney 's Quarterly Concern (no. 13, 2004),
perhaps the most impressive recent collection of alternative comics. However,
the McSweeney volume stands out from that of Pekar and Brunetti in that it
never professes to be anything other than a collection of disparate and even
offbeat pieces.

11. It is difficult to see how Chute and DeKoven can make this claim, especially
given the emerging body of literature on the medium. Joseph Witek's Comic
Books as History (1989) was one of the first in-depth looks into the narrative art
of comics, Hatfield's Alternative Comics follows suit by focusing on the
alternative scene, and the aforementioned texts by Inge, Carrier, Vamum and
Gibbons, and Groensteen are just a few examples of the ever-growing critical
works available on the study of comics. Indeed, Groensteen's theoretical
analyses, as well as that of other Continental scholars, have been available for
years, underscoring Europe's long-held appreciation for comics as a serious
narrative form.

Works Cited

Boyd, Robert. "Racist Murder as Entertainment." The Comics Journal (Feb

1990): 3-4.

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22 ROYAL

Carrier, David. The Aesthetics of Comics. University Park, PA: Pennsylvania

State UP, 2000.
Chute, Hillary, and Marianne DeKoven. "Introduction: Graphic Narrative."
Modern Fiction Studies 52 (2007): 767-82.
Crumb, R., and Aline Kominsky-Crumb. "A Joint Interview with R. Crumb and
Aline Kominsky-Crumb." Interview with B. N. Duncan. Tele Times July
1980: 35-45. Rpt. in R. Crumb. Conversations. Ed. D. K. Holm. Jackson: UP
of Mississippi, 2004. 117-32.
Davenport, Christian. "Black Is the Color of My Comic Book Character: An
Examination of Ethnic Stereotypes." Inks 4 (1997): 20-28.
Eisner, Will. Graphic Storytelling and Visual Narrative. Tamarac, FL: Poor-
house, 1996.
Glascock, Jack, and Catherine Preston-Schreck. "Gender and Racial Stereotypes
in Daily Newspaper Comics: A Time-Honored Tradition?" Sex Roles 51
(2004): 423-31.
Groensteen, Thierry. The System of Comics. Trans. Bart Beaty and Nick
Nguyen. Jackson: UP of Mississippi, 2007.
Harvey, Robert C. "The Graphic Novel, Will Eisner, and Other Pioneers." The
Comics Journal May 2001: 103-6.
Hatfield, Charles. Alternative Comics. An Emerging Literature. Jackson: UP of
Mississippi, 2005.
Herman, Luc, and Bart Vervaeck. Handbook of Narrative Analysis. Trans. Luc
Herman and Bart Vervaeck. Lincoln: U of Nebraska P, 2005.
Inge, Thomas. Comics as Culture. Jackson: UP of Mississippi, 1990.
McCloud, Scott. Reinventing Comics: How Imagination and Technology Are
Revolutionizing an Art Form. New York: Perennial, 2000.
-. Understanding Comics: The Invisible Art. New York: Perennial, 1993.
Pekar, Harvey. Introduction. The Best American Comics, 2006. Ed. Harvey
Pekar. Boston: Houghton, 2006. xv-xxiii.
Pustz, Matthew J. "Discovering Comic Book Culture." Comic Book Culture:
Fanboys and True Believers. Jackson: UP of Mississippi, 1999. 3-25.
Singer, Marc. "'Black Skins' and White Masks: Comic Books and the Secret of
Race." African American Review 36 (2002): 107-19.
Spiegelman, Art. Cover illustration. Harper's Magazine. June 2006.
-. "Mightier Than the Sorehead." Nation 17 Jan. 1994: 45-46.
Witek, Joseph. Comic Books as History. Jackson: UP of Mississippi, 1989.
Varnum, Robin, and Christina T. Gibbons. The Language of Comics. Word and
Image. Jackson: UP of Mississippi, 2001.
Zurier, Rebecca. "Classy Comics." Rev. of The History of the Comic Strip: The
Nineteenth Century, by David Kunzle, America's Great Comic-Strip Artists,
by Richard Marschall, Comics as Culture, by M. Thomas Inge, The Great
American Comic Strip: One Hundred Years of Cartoon Art, by Judith
O'Sullivan, Batman: Arkham Asylum, A Serious House on Serious Earth, by
Grant Morrison and Dave McKean, and Raw: Vol. 2, No. 2: Required Read-
ingfor the Post-Literate, by Art Spiegelman and Frangoise Mouly, eds. Art
Journal 50.3 (1991): 98-103.

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