Graphic Histories No. 3: Narrative Structure
Congressman and civil rights activist John Lewis’ three-part graphic memoir, March, became a bestseller in part due to its popularity as a teaching tool. The authors of “Creating Graphic Histories” mark its publication as the catalyst for a new enthusiasm for teaching history with comics. Wrapping up the theory portion of my Graphic Histories independent study course, I explored the question that raises: How do you turn academic research into comics?* (From here, I’ll read six books that tell some sort of history: memoirs, nonfiction, and academic histories—and analyze them through the lens of the theory.) I perused a slide deck called Creating Graphic Histories that provides background and recommendations for historical comics and showcases student work, and read Narrative Structure in Comics: Making Sense of Fragments by Barbara Postema.
Cover for the “Creating Graphic Histories” slide deck by Annie Wrights, Trevor Getz, B. Erin Cole, Aubrey Nolan, and Joe Schmidt.
Cover for Narrative Structure in Comics: Making Sense of Fragments by Barbara Postema
The answer to my question of how to approach history comics: “Well, depends who you ask.” As can be expected in a newish and evolving academic discipline, there’s no shortage of debate on terminology, legitimacy, and best practices. Some of the graphic histories on my shelf are thick volumes, 3/4 of which are notes, source documents, and citations. Others are just, well, comic books. Trinity: A Graphic History of the First Atomic Bomb has a one-page bibliography and a disclaimer that it’s a “mostly” history; the author took some liberties in writing captions where source material did not provide direct quotes. An illustrator unavoidably makes editorial choices, so to an extent, all graphic histories are “mostly” histories. The authors of Graphic Histories provide some concrete guidance for planning for a research-based graphic history: Rather than write a paper and convert it into graphic form, as I had envisioned, they recommend outlining for the graphic narrative format using a spreadsheet.
“Creating Graphic Histories” slide no. 26.
Each panel gets its own row on the spreadsheet and the creator considers several elements: the image, the text, and how the text will be presented. It might also make sense to have a column for source. This approach yields, as shown in the student examples they provide, a clear and transparently accurate story even if the creator doesn’t make full use of the visual elements.
Postema writes about comics in general from an academic standpoint, but approaches the same question from the bottom up instead of top down. What, in essence, constitutes a comic?
A note on terms: As Postema discusses, the words used to describe this thing we’re learning about—comics, graphic novels, graphic narratives, sequential art, etc.—tend to correspond with how seriously people want to be taken. Comics connote humor, but Postema argues for its use as an umbrella term under which things all things storytelling-with-interdependent-words-and-pictures reside because it’s ubiquitously understood to mean just that.
It’s all the pieces you’d expect: The panel, the picture, the words, the caption type, page layout, the medium of publication, and even the paper type. But the secret sauce, she argues, is in the “gap.” She uses the example of Lucy from Peanuts rustling through papers on her floor. The reader has to wonder “What is she looking for?” to feel engaged enough to keep reading. Much like a joke, there’s a setup and a punchline, but if it’s too on the nose, there’s no magic.
Visual Annotation of “Creating Graphic Histories” slide no. 30, a sample from the graphic history The Interesting Narrative of Olaudah Equiano.
In light of Postema’s insight, I may need to modify the “Creating Graphic Histories” spreadsheet template to include information about the relationship between panels—perhaps organizing them as sets—to ensure my storytelling pulls the reader forward with curiosity.
Perhaps my new question is: How can a comic format engage the reader in history without compromising the integrity of the history? How much detail needs to be included to fully tell a story, and where does it go? In end notes? In wordy panels? As I look toward next week’s readings, Trinity and Doom Town, I’ll engage with an example of each approach and analyze which approaches work better.
