I'll be hoenst... I don't fully understand this unusual original graphic novel. It's not that creator Daniel Zezelj's storytelling is unclear. It's just that there's a sense of mystery and myth that envelops this stoic and rather silent story. This is a significant work from a creator with a unique and powerful voice, with new and different things to say. Perhaps what's most surprising about this story is that it boasts a thoroughly American appeal and tone, and I use that term in its best sense, not the negative connotation it can often arouse. That's surprising given that the creator's origins are in Croatia. Still, he brings a thoughtful, worldly tone to the piece as well. And his art is as stunning as ever.
A young black man living in a poverty-stricken area of a large city finds himself trapped. On one side is violence and his need to protect and defend himself from the predators that lurk in the dark corners of his neighborhood. On the other is his desire to find peace and express himself. A discarded gift offers a new perspective. He takes inspiration from the music and personal story of jazz legend Thelonius Monk.
Some readers may recognize Zezelj's art from some DC/Vertigo limited series or from a couple of Marvel projects. He was called upon to do that work because a mature, dark tone was called for, and he brings the same strength to bear in the art here. I'm reminded a fair bit of Tommy Lee (The Question) Edwards's style as I thumb through the pages of this original graphic novel. Though stark in appearance, the art also boasts a dream-like quality at times, making complex forms and idea take shape with simple splashes of black. It's like a noir impressionism at work. There are other times when an almost photo-realistic quality is to be found in Zezelj's efforts here, notably when he's depicting Thelonius Monk.
The book boasts a hard, grounded, urban tone, capturing the setting quite clearly, but there's also a more stoic, classic quality to the sporadic narration and dialogue that elevates the story and character. It's as though the tale of a young god is unfolding, a mythic recount of inner and external conflicts. At times, the storytelling boasts a stream-of-consciousness quality. At times, the young man at the center of the story seems to transform into Monk himself. It's a great way to symbolize just how strongly the character identifies with the legendary musician.
A quick Google search of the creator's name and the title of this book reveals that there's more to this project than a graphic novel. Zezelj has apparently developed a full multimedia piece of art, which has been shown and exhibited at galleries. I'd love to see something like this incorporated as a new kind of programming at the major comics conventions.
I know next to nothing about Monk, and I was often left puzzled as to what Zezelk was trying to tell me. But it's the sort of feeling that the book is meant to elicit, I think. Small Hands challenges its audience, and its meanings are as fluid as the storytelling. Ultimately, I think Zezelj is saying that life is, by definition, a struggle, and the struggle itself is as important as the rewards. Without the hard times, appreciating peace and satisfaction is pointless. 9/10
