Intro
I don’t read that many comics or graphic novels to be honest, though I do have a few on my shelves. Looking now, I can see Berserk and Blacksad, comic continuations of both Avatar: The Last Airbender and Firefly, and Anthony Bourdain’s Hungry Ghosts. I picked up a copy of I Kill Giants, written by Joe Kelly and drawn by Ken Niimura, without knowing much of anything about it. I knew there was a movie adaptation that I’d never seen, and that it tells the story of a young girl who says she hunts giants, who says she can see pixies, signs in the sky, and all manner of fantastical creatures roaming about her school. The rest I’d managed to not spoil for myself, and I’m not going to spoil more in this paragraph. This is a tale best read without knowing much about it. I will say that, for me, this story’s accolades are well deserved. If you like a tale with a heavy theme yet deftly told, give this one a look. For those who have already read it or fear no spoilers, keep reading. As Joe Kelly states in the author’s dedication before chapter 1, “To those fighting your own giants. You’re stronger than you think.”
Here Be Spoilers
I don’t think trauma is a one-size fits all type of thing. Yet, as humans, there are no doubt commonalities to how we process grief, how we cope with the death and suffering of loved ones. If that weren’t the case, therapists and the like would have a much more difficult time, each new client or patient a heretofore unseen and unfamiliar type of puzzle. Rather, while each person is no doubt a puzzle that requires expertise to unravel, I get the feeling there are favorite knots and snarls we as humans have evolved to favor. We’re not quite Rubik’s Cubes, disordered colored tiles that require only a finite number of set actions to inevitably solve, yet neither are we Goldbach’s Conjecture, a mathematical theory whose proof has eluded mathematicians for many years now. We are something between.
The death of a loved one is an unfortunate reality of life that all of us have to face at some point or another. It’s just, you hope that one does not have to face that too young, while the brain has yet to form coping mechanisms, as it were. Not that it’s easy to face as an adult. We learn towards the end of the book I Kill Giants that the main character Barbara has created this fantasy world of hers to escape the reality of her mother’s terminal illness. This story is nothing if not the tale of a young girl coming to grips with her mother’s impending death, of her learning to embrace what little time remains. It’s a well told story, one that could have easily tilted too far into the dark or too far into the saccharine. It does neither, deftly threading the needle. The art is fantastic too, doing a great service in bringing Barbara’s tale to life.
Outro
As one who spends much of their time immersed in the fantastical, I have occasionally heard critiques from those who don’t enjoy such tales, deriding them as escapist, as childish attempts to hide from the harsh realities of the world. I can’t argue that there isn’t a tinge of escapism to fiction, but I would argue that this characterization entirely misses the point. Stories are nothing if not exercises in empathy, curated by the author but wholly experienced by the reader. Whether containing fire-breathing dragons or giants the size of skyscrapers, we tell stories, we consume stories, to experience life from another perspective, to learn, and sometimes just to experience something cool. The best tales, no matter what fantastical elements they contain, are grounded in human truths. They are a guided tour, and they help us process. In this story, that was what Barbara needed in order to come to grips with her mom’s illness.
All the best,
M. Weald
