There is a sneaky and malicious part of me that loves the fact that there are people in the world (strange people with motor oil instead of blood) who can look at Grandville and its glorious sequel Grandville Mon Amour and shrug, perplexed, at what all the fuss is about. Another part of why Bryan Talbot is beloved is because – as some reviews of the last LeBrock outing, Grandville, will attest – there are those who (a) don’t get graphic novels (b) don’t get why grown-ups would read graphic novels and (c) don’t get why grown-ups who read graphic novels would want to read about a steampunk-y alternate universe to our own in which human beings are regarded, at best, as skinny pink pets and animals rule the roost and, moreover, where Britain and France have been at war and are just coming to terms with a new and uneasy post-war entente. Part of the reason Bryan Talbot is beloved is because he produces great art married with fantastic and fantastical narrative (which is easier said than done). Bryan Talbot is one of those graphic novelists who are beloved of grown-ups like myself who are partial to the odd bit of sequential high jinx.
Oh Bryan Talbot, how I love thee, let me count the ways! Well, first, let’s put all of the exhilarating joy of reading tales of the belligerent badger Inspector LeBrock to one side.
0 kommentar(er)
