The publisher (better known in traditional book publishing than the world of graphic novels) sent this volume along for review, and everything about it -- the format, the paper, the art and the subject matter -- immediately put me in mind of the works of the late Will Eisner. The story is set in 1932, but the storytelling is something out of time as well. Originally published in regular-comics format in 1988, it won industry awards but really didn't break out beyond the small niche of literary comics readers. W.W. Norton has re-released the series in collected format, and I'm pleased I got the chance to examine it. Fans of Eisner's non-Spirit stories and of Rob Vollmar and Pablo Callejo's Bluesman series will no doubt love this story of adventure gone awry.
Depression-era America is filled with victims... victims of the dramatic economic downturn, victims of addiction, and victims of disease, both physical and mental. And amid a sea of despair is Freddie Bloch, a 13-year-old kid who's thrust into the world of adulthood far too soon. After his older brother is arrested, Freddie strikes out on his own, determined to track down his father, who left the family in California months before in search of work and dignity in other states. Freddie befriends a hobo named Sam, who claims to be the King of Spain. He dubs Freddie the King of France, and the pair rides the rails and walks dusty country roads as they make their way east. Danger lurks around every turn, but Freddie experiences a quick education in the transient ways Sam and other hoboes know so well.
Burr's artwork is rather simple in tone but he manages to achieve a striking level of realism throughout the book. Inky shadows and greytones bring depth and texture to the book. Burr's style strikes me as a cross between Eisner's penchant for soiled realism and Eric (Age of Bronze) Shanower's soft, vulnerable figures. One could easily compare Burr's work on this series to the style of Chris (Fantastic Four: First Family) Weston. Burr's panel layout is pretty traditional, but it's in keeping with the historical nature of the premise and cultural backdrop. He doesn't seem to experiment with perspective as much as those other artists do, but the straightforward nature of his art is quite accessible.
The thick, slightly rough quality of the paper used for this graphic novel reinforces the decades-old aspect of the story. Not only does this story examine unfortunate times gone by, but the book actually feels old.
Many other Depression-era stories we've seen in comics -- not to mention other media -- seem squarely set in the New York area. We've given a look at the melting pot in the form of a single neighborhood, with poor families crammed together in small apartments, cramped buildings and busy streets. Kings in Disguise takes a different approach. The story opens in California, with a much cleaner, less crowded look. There's a distinctively rural feel to this story, as opposed to the usually urban setting and circumstances one might expect to find.
I'd say the primary purpose of the story is to convey the almost alien notion of Depression-era America to a readership that has never experienced such hardship. But the structure of the story seems to be the contrasting ideas of Freddie's fantasies of adventure and the harsh reality of his life. Freddie's love for movie-serials has him dreaming of action and adventure, of taking life by the horns and deciding one's own fate. But throughout this story, Freddie is a voyeur and victim. He takes direction from those around him, rarely taking initiative. He's like a piece of driftwood, subject to the whims of currents and tides. But it's easy to forgive Freddie his passiveness, as we're always mindful that he's just a child. 8/10
Note: This graphic novel was not among this week's new releases.
