With its third time at bat, Toronto Comics Anthology has come into its own. Toronto Comics Anthology Volume 3 features 30 comics from 46 writers and artists—each reflecting on Toronto in some way. Besides that, the genres run the gamut, from true tales, to superheroes, horror, and more. The anthology shows maturity by tackling a variety of topics in creative and elegant ways. In “A Work in Progress,” writer Gwen Howarth chronicles the history of Toronto Pride’s Trans March through her transition. In “The Dark,” co-authors Aaron Feldman and Josh Rosen tell the story of a woman who reveals her terminal illness to her girlfriend while dining in the dark. For those who prefer something a little lighthearted, let Ricky Lima and Kelvin Sue reveal the secret lives of Toronto landmarks in “Architecture.” Through its variety of diverse narratives, this volume stretches the bounds of what comics can be.

Gold headband and matching bracelets. Go Go boots, booty shorts and a baby tee. A raven haired badass wearing shades and driving an invisible car (goodbye invisible jet) to track down the bad guy. This was the latest Wonder Woman appearance, aired on the Cartoon Network July 13 in an animated short. Her first appearance was in a 1941 December/January edition of All Star Comics.

“Wonder Woman is psychological propaganda for the new type of woman who should, I believe, rule the world,” said William Moulton Marston who created the heroine and penned her stories under the name Charles Moulton. The Harvard graduate and psychologist invented the lie detector test (Hey there, Lasso of Truth). When he spoke of creating a new hero, his wife Elizabeth Holloway suggested it be a woman. It was her and his other wife Olive Byrne (they had a polygamous marriage) who inspired the character.

Being the woman superhero that first pops to mind, for those not even interested in comic book culture, Wonder Woman is a feminist icon. And with anything feminist, female, and human, comes conflict. Both her story and costume have been revamped many times over the past 72 years. “[Wonder Woman’s] metamorphoses reflect nothing less than the confusion, fear, and constant reformation of American ideals about American women,” says crime fiction writer Kelli E. Stanley in a 2005 article on Wonder Woman’s cultural impact.

In the beginning, the story of Wonder Woman is rooted in Greek mythology. Aphrodite, the Goddess of love, molded Amazon women out of clay. After Hercules tried to enslave the women, Aphrodite took them to a place where men could not go, Paradise Isle. The earlier stories contain a lot of bondage and likewise imagery, “The ropes and chains are symbols of patriarchy and the drama is her ability to break the shackles of male domination they symbolize,” says Philip Charles Crawford in an article published on the School Library Journal. The stories were also around, Stanley points out in her article, during wartime and women were encouraged to join the workforce. After that the character got trapped in romance comics, being the domestic role model during a time when women were told to get back home and let the men have their jobs back.

Wonder Woman’s writers, origin, powers, weapons and gadgets have varied throughout the years. Sometimes her lasso is gone, others she has an invisible plane. She’s been a clay figure brought to life, she’s been an orphan in New York City. Gloria Steinem got involved in 1968 when writer Dennis O’Neil and artist Mike Sekowsky revamped the heroine’s image. She was stripped of her powers and instead learned martial arts and weapon mastery, from a man. The theory was her mortal identity, Diana Prince, could be more attainable than a mythological Amazon (or in some stories a demi-goddess) Steinem and other critics did not like seeing their icon lose their super power status, or her sudden need of male mentoring. When writer and artist George Perez took over the character, in 1987, he consulted Steinem in order to keep the feminism alive in the series.

Lynda Carter as Wonder Woman

The character has made television before, most notably from 1975 to 1979 with Lynda Carter playing the lead. A re-attempt was made in 2011, but was cancelled after the pilot. Animated series have been off and on since 1973. In 2009 there was a direct-to-video animated film.

Throughout all media, her costume has changed. Her original skirt has been altered to culottes. Her body has been covered up by the Comics Code Authority or by artists who thought too much skin didn’t measure up to the feminist ideals. The latter hasn’t been received well from feminists who do not want to be labeled as anti-sex. There is also the argument that Wonder Woman will be sexy no matter what since she is a strong, female lead. No matter what, the character will be complicated, like all great things are.

Picture from crunkfeministcollective.com

Illustration by Ethan Rilly.

Chester Brown, 51, is an accomplished graphic novelist whose new book, Paying for It, depicts his decision in 1999 to abandon romantic relationships in favour of paying prostitutes for sex. Along the way, however, he still seemed to find a version, unconventional though it may be, of true love.

This: How long did it take to do the book?

Brown: One year to write the script and four years to draw it.

This: The primary trigger for going to sex workers was when your romantic relationship with Sook Yin-Lee [the actor and CBC journalist] ended in 1999. When she had a new boyfriend move in with the two of you.

Brown: Right. But we’re still very close friends.

This: Why were you through with romantic love?

Brown: It brings people more misery than happiness, in a nutshell.

This: Haven’t I read that the most miserable creatures around are men who don’t have a relationship?

Brown: I think in large part that’s because of romantic love. They have this ideal in the mind and they’re failing to bring that into their life. If they didn’t want romantic love they then wouldn’t be miserable. It’s the ideal that’s the problem.

This: How many prostitutes did you go to over the years?

Brown: Twenty-three. Some I saw multiple times. Every single experience is in the book.

This: How much did you spend on them?

Brown: I’m not sure. I’ve never been asked that before. At roughly $200 each time…hmmm. I guess we could do the math.

This: In January 2003 you saw a sex worker you call Denise. Since then you have been monogamous with her and she’s been monogamous with you for the last four years. What is different about her?

Brown: She seemed more open. As time went on the connection between us seemed to grow. There were other things that happened to help establish a bond that unfortunately I can’t get into.

This: Because she doesn’t want her personal information revealed?

Brown: She told me to put her in my book as little as possible. I will say she’s an amazing person. Really wonderful and extremely trustworthy.

This: But you still pay her.

Brown: We have sex about every two weeks and, yeah, I pay her.

This: How do you define your relationship with her?

Brown: Hmmm. It’s not a boyfriend/girlfriend relationship. It’s not a romantic relationship.

This: You must have feelings for her.

Brown: I admit I have romantic feelings for her. And when you feel that way about a woman you want to talk about her. I wish I could blab away about her wonderful qualities.

This: Do you double date with friends?

Brown: No. Never.

This: Share holidays, like Christmas, together?

Brown: No.

This: What if she wanted you to stop paying her.

Brown: All of a sudden it would be like every other relationship. I think romantic relationships tend to fail. I’m happy with things the way they’re working.

This: Have you ever asked her to move in with you?

Brown: No.

This: It would ruin things?

Brown: Oh yeah. I think so.

This: Don’t many men who go to sex workers want the talking, the touching, the cuddling even more than the sex? Was that the case with you?

Brown: I definitely know that’s true of a lot of men. But I did want the sex.

This: They want the intimacy, even if it’s forced.

Brown: Yeah. Most of the prostitutes I saw would jump up and go to the shower after [we had sex]. Denise was one of the few who seemed to like to cuddle afterwards.

This: Was the intimacy you felt with her what was missing with the other sex workers?

Brown: Probably.

This: Which suggests that’s what you were looking for all along.

Brown: I hadn’t known that that’s what I was looking for but, sure, yeah.

This: Isn’t that what we’re all looking for?

Brown: Hmmm. I guess so.

This: You still down on romantic love?

Brown: I do change my mind at the end of the book. I come to think of it in a different way and I decide what I have a problem with isn’t romantic love but what I call possessive monogamy.

This: Where do you think your relationship is headed?

Brown: I’m pretty sure Denise is fine with the way it is right now. She doesn’t want me to be a conventional boyfriend. I think everyone else wants there to be a Pretty Woman type of story where we end up in a conventional marriage. But we don’t. No.

Illustration by Evan Munday.

On a cold mid-February afternoon under overcast skies, a school bell rings. The halls of Toronto’s Agnes Macphail Public School flood with children dressed in puffy jackets and schoolbags. Although a swift exodus befalls most schools at day’s end, Agnes Macphail still pulses with high-pitch chatter. Students linger in the foyer while others flock towards the school’s library. Amidst the rows of bookcases and computers, a group of students, ranging from grade six to eight, sit around tables as they talk animatedly and await the start of their book-club meeting.

The students burst into cheerful greetings as Diana Maliszewski, Agnes Macphail’s teacher-librarian, walks into the room. Dressed in a black cardigan, white dress shirt, and black pants, Maliszewski sits at the table amongst the intermediate students.

“So, which book are we going to talk about first?” Maliszewski asks. The children’s voices overlap and echo throughout the library. The group settles on Raina Telgemeier’s Smile, a paperback book boasting a turquoise-coloured cover and a yellow smiley face.

“I have to warn you,” Maliszewski says, “I didn’t get a chance to read this one.” The students erupt into playful jeers. “I know, I know,” Maliszewski says, hands on her face in mock embarrassment. “But it’s okay because you guys can tell me all about it.” The children rifle through the pages as they talk excitedly about the novel. “I read it twice,” chirps one girl seated to the right of Maliszewski.

During the club meeting, a group of boys amble into the library and linger in front of a shelf of colourful books. “I’m sorry guys, but the library’s closed. We have a club meeting going on,” Maliszewski says apologetically. The boys groan. “I know. I’m sorry, but I’m glad you guys love this place. I really am.”

Students jokingly scolding their teacher for not reading; children looking crestfallen when told the school’s library is closed. It plays like an episode of The Twilight Zone, one that parents and teachers across the country would love to see replicated. But what accounts for the kids’ enthusiasm is the type of books they’re reading: graphic novels.

Maliszewski is one of the few teachers in Canada who dedicate a student club to graphic novels. But she is one of a growing number of educators and literacy advocates who believe the often-misunderstood genre could be the key to unlocking literacy for reluctant readers.

A staggering 48 percent of Canadians over 16 struggle with poor reading skills. Literacy is commonly measured on a five-level scale, with levels three and up considered adequate to function well in contemporary society. The Canadian Council on Learning estimates that 12 million Canadians do not meet that standard, meaning they cannot cope with many basic reading tasks — things like interpreting simple graphs, reading short text, and integrating pieces of information. The absence of such rudimentary abilities make it difficult to complete high school, acquire new job skills, or even decipher a medicine label.

The current statistics are bleak, and the number of adults with low literacy is actually poised to increase by 25 percent over the next 20 years just based on population growth. Literacy organizations, parents, educators, employers — everyone is looking for new ways to get Canadians excited about reading and improve these troubling numbers. But there’s little hope for change — unless we try something new.

Although an avid reader as a child, Maliszewski didn’t discover graphic novels until her adult years when she took the course “Comics and Graphic Novels in Schools and Public Libraries,” at the University of Alberta, where she received her masters degree in the teacherlibrarianship program in 2010. The genre quickly hooked her: “The skies parted and the light shone down,” she says.

She joined the TinLids Greater Toronto Area Graphic Novels Club, a group of educators and publishers who gather to discuss the educational potential of graphic novels. In 2004, Maliszewski established a graphic novel section at Agnes Macphail’s school library. “It took off like a rocket,” says Maliszewski. “It was insanely popular, especially with the boys. A whole bunch of people just loved it.”

More and more graphic novels have ascended to respectability in literary circles lately, but the whiff of pulp entertainment — given the genre’s roots in 20th century comic books — has tended to make teachers wary of their usefulness. For every Pulitzer-winning Maus, Art Spiegelman’s haunting allegory of his Jewish ancestors fleeing the Nazis, or Persepolis, Marjane Satrapi’s poignant adolescent memoir of revolutionary Iran, there seemed to be thousands of mindlessly violent, sexually retrograde, and narratively bankrupt superhero yarns. Novels are regarded as educational and nourishing; comic books as depraved trash.

Of course, there are also plenty of lousy books without drawings in them. As the depth and breadth of good graphic novels available has grown over the last few decades, some educators have started to see how a more visually dynamic presentation can boost reading skills without feeling like a chore.

In an article entitled “Expanding Literacies Through Graphic Novels,” [PDF] comics scholar Gretchen Schwarz argues the benefits of using graphic novels as a way to expand and strengthen literacy skills. Schwarz says graphic novel readers have to pay attention to conventional literary elements of plot, character, and dialogue as well as interpret visual elements such as colour, shading, panel layout, and even lettering style, making graphic novels an engaging and sophisticated form of reading.

Maliszewski also believes the combination of word and image can help reluctant readers who have short attention spans or problems visualizing. “Comics are great for so many different areas in which people have struggled with literacy issues,” she says. “They’re the great equalizer because they’re enjoyed by kids who are not strong readers as well as kids who are strong readers.”

At 70, Ellen Szita knows firsthand the perils of low literacy skills. While growing up in Brighton, England, Szita was relegated to the “D” class throughout school because of her difficulties with literacy. When Szita was 13, a teacher unexpectedly asked her to solve a math problem during class. Unable to read, Szita froze.

The teacher ordered her to stand in front of the class. “You’re not even trying to do this,” he bellowed. Szita stood motionless as the teacher insulted her in front of the other students. As she walked back toward her desk, the teacher grabbed the blackboard eraser and threw it at her head. A year later, Szita dropped out of school.

After immigrating to Canada at age 18, Szita eventually moved to Vancouver, married, and had four children. For decades, she hid her literacy difficulties from her family. When her children asked for help with their homework, Szita asserted she was too busy. She couldn’t understand her children’s report cards and dreaded parentteacher meetings.

The one time Szita did meet with one of her children’s teachers, she dressed up and emphasized her British accent as a way of masking her challenges with literacy. “I would tell the teacher, ‘Oh, yes I understand,’” Szita recalls. “But I didn’t understand what the teacher was even saying. She was talking about algebra. I never even heard of the word ‘algebra.’ I didn’t know if she was talking about English or math.”

The turning point for Szita emerged after she and her husband divorced in 1979. Unable to support herself, Szita searched for employment. She applied to two jobs but was fired from both because of her low literacy skills. By 1987, Szita’s psychiatrist diagnosed her as dyslexic and referred her to the Victoria READ society, a non-profit organization that helps youth and adults develop and hone their literacy skills.

There, at age 46, Szita accomplished something she thought improbable: she learned to read.

As a way of promoting literacy awareness, Szita spent years sharing her experience at speaking engagements with high schools, colleges, universities, prisons, and other organizations. In 1994, the Governor General presented Szita with the Flight for Freedom Award for Lifetime Achievement in Literacy for her advocacy work. Today, Szita is the chair of the Canadian Adult Literacy Learners, an arm of a non-profit organization called the Canadian Literacy and Learning Network that supports provincial and territorial literacy coalitions across Canada.

For Szita, graphic novels and comics contain engaging and compelling stories that can encourage reading and learning amongst those with low literacy skills. Szita believes comics are an effective teaching tool that can help children and adults perceive reading as something to enjoy, instead of dread. “I think it’s a huge help,” says Szita. “You need to be happy about what you’re learning and if it’s interesting, it’s going to make a huge difference.”

Scott Tingley, a grade-three teacher at Riverside Consolidated School in Riverside-Albert, New Brunswick and founder of comicsintheclassroom.net, noticed the difference in his students’ attitudes toward reading and writing after he used an Owly comic by Andy Runton and a Monkey vs. Robot picture by James Kochalka as story starters for a grade one and two class he taught five years ago. Prompted by his students’ enthusiasm, Tingley incorporated a comics section in his classroom. “I have kids reading them all the time and I have kids from previous years coming over to borrow them,” says Tingley. “For some, comics are a joy to read. They can’t get enough.”

In his 12 years of teaching, Tingley has never encountered a student who didn’t enjoy creating comics. “At the early years they are so used to joining their drawings with their words that comics come naturally to them,” says Tingley. “I don’t try to trick kids into thinking they aren’t writing when they are creating comics; on the contrary, I make sure they are keenly aware that making comics is just another form of writing.”

While Tingley and Maliszewski use graphic novels and comics primarily in elementary school settings, the genre is equally pertinent in other educational stages. Guy Demers, an English teacher at Sir Charles Tupper Secondary School in Vancouver, first thought about using graphic novels and comics in the classroom during the mid-1980s when they started to mature as an art form.

His first attempts at using graphic novels in the classroom occurred after he noticed a few of his students struggled with reading. He gave the students copies of Usagi Yojimbo, a comic series created by Stan Sakai. “It got them so excited about reading that they burned through all 20 volumes that were out at the time,” says Demers. “They started reading books along the same lines.”

The medium is finding uses in post-secondary education too. Rob Heynen, a professor in York University’s program in social and political thought, is one of the many professors at the university who has used graphic novels as course material. In his fourth-year course, “Visual Culture: Histories, Theories, and Politics,” Heynen incorporated Alan Moore’s Watchmen, an influential deconstruction of the superhero narrative, into his lecture on comics and graphic arts in popular culture.

Heynen says graphic novels, which depend on the reader’s ability to interpret and create meanings out of sequential images, are a useful way to develop a person’s literacy skills. “Even for people with low levels of literacy, images are still things that they can read,” he says. But Heynen believes the types of literacy skills required for graphic novels is different from that of traditional prose material, although both are related through their use of text. “They’re two different kinds of literacy in a way,” says Heynen.

However, Maliszewski says the idea of graphic novels as a “transitional medium” is one of the stigmas hindering the genre. “It’s a little elitist to say comics will lead us to ‘real’ reading,” says Maliszewski. “If you just read comics, that’s okay. Your parents might not think so, but it really is.”

Graphic novels still labour under the stigma toward comic books that swept North American culture in the 1940s and ‘50s, when censorious researchers sounded alarms over comics’ sexual and violent content. Most notable was the psychiatrist Fredric Wertham’s 1954 book, The Seduction of the Innocent, which dubiously but sensationally correlated real-world “deviant” behaviour with the kind of crime stories depicted in pulp comics of the time.

Although that kind of moral panic is no longer widespread, Maliszewski says she still encounters misconceptions about the genre. She overheard a fellow teacher proclaim that all manga (the massively popular Japanese comics) are pornographic—decidedly not the case—and still runs into resistance from teachers and librarians who believe sex and violence is still pervasive.

In general, the feedback to Maliszewski’s graphic novels collection has been positive, but not without some controversy. Some parents complained their kids only borrowed graphic novels and dismissed more traditional prose books.

Guy Demers says he also hears complaints that graphic novels, by adding visual elements, rob readers of the ability to imagine a book’s narrative themselves. “This is the comment that, to me, speaks to the general public’s ignorance of the form,” he says. “Would Citizen Kane have been better as a book? Would the Mona Lisa have made a better poem? It’s a different form and needs to be examined on its own terms.”

If the stigmas and misconceptions about reading graphic novels are common, the ones facing people with low literacy are even more widespread. Advocates believe illiteracy is a silent epidemic, misunderstood or, more commonly, simply ignored. Canada, for instance, is one of the few developed countries in the world without a national reading strategy. “The general public still doesn’t understand literacy and what it means to have low or poor literacy skills,” says Lindsay Kennedy, senior manager at the Movement for Canadian Literacy. But the social and economic effects are deep and widespread: low literacy is strongly associated with poor health and poverty. “When your literacy skills are low, you’re at risk,” says Kennedy.

But it doesn’t have to be that way. A common misperception is that people with poor literacy cannot read at all, which is seldom the case. Far more common is low literacy, in which people can glean the bare minimum from a text. “Literacy is very much like a muscle,” says Kennedy. “If you don’t use it at all, you tend to forget how to use it.”

The Canadian government’s failure to address the country’s low literacy levels isn’t just a disconcerting issue for literacy organizations; educators like Maliszewski are also rallying for awareness and change. A national reading summit in 2009 assembled educators, librarians, academics, and publishers alike to discuss plans for a Canadian national reading strategy.

Although Maliszewski supports this movement, she says one of the problems the summit faced was the “prioritizing of literature,” which placed so-called “alternative reading materials,” such as graphic novels and comics, below that of traditional prose. She’s troubled by the implications of that.

“If you want to have a national reading strategy, you can’t be elitist about what people are reading,” says Maliszewski. “Reading comics is still reading. And depending on the comic, it’s really sophisticated reading.”

While the idea of graphic novels and comics as a legitimate means to combat low literacy levels in Canada is still contentious, there are educators across the country hoping people will see the merits of the graphic novel genre, in its ability to act both as a link to many other kinds of reading, and as a fulfilling and meaningful pastime in itself. Maliszewski wants to see all kinds of reading “not just tolerated, but celebrated.”

With so many Canadians facing literacy problems, and all the attendant difficulties that follow, it seems irresponsible not to try. Lindsay Kennedy believes the stakes are about as high as they can be: “Literacy is about giving people power. It’s about giving them freedom.”

How did he do it? Was it his handwriting on the envelope? Did he bribe us?

Nope. But here are my four best guesses.

1. Burton applied! (And so can you.)

First prize in each category is $750. In some regions of Canada, that’s a decent month’s salary for a new writer. In Toronto, that’s almost rent.

To have your writing judged, send us original, unpublished work in one of three categories:

• Poetry (poems of up to 100 lines)
• Fiction (short stories of up to 2,500 words)
• Graphic fiction (by this we mean illustrated stories of up to two-pages, though we’re sure your first sexy Harlequin novel will be a smash.)

The entry fee is $25 for one short story, one graphic story, or two poems. Each entry fee includes a one-year subscription to This. Each additional entry is $5. Many more details can be found here.

2. Burton discarded convention!

“As my mother was leaving for the hospital to deliver me, she asked my sister, who was not much more than 2, what she wanted: a girl or a boy.

A cat, my sister said.”

Burton used an unusual structure. His story unfolded in brief, sometimes one-line acts. Above is Act I. From it marched an army of non-linear scenes, each revealing more about the protagonist’s three older sisters and his place in their world.

Why on earth did he do that?

“I thought that if I could put it all down, that would be one way. And next the thought came to me that to leave it all out would be another, truer way.” – John Ashbery, quoted at the top of Burton’s story.

3. Burton wrote on a broader theme!

Some say male feminists are like leprechauns: they don’t exist. Others think feminism is inherently man-bashing. But I would call them wrong on both counts.

Burton emphasized his mother’s love of Simone de Beauvoir, Germaine Greer and Adrienne Rich. He used strong verbs when writing about women. He described nuns as matriarchal in a patriarchal structure. He wrote candidly about his own emotion and how he often expressed varieties of it. Whether you like it or not, Burton’s broader theme was feminism — the brand that promotes equality and understanding.

You are under no obligation whatsoever to employ a theme. But if it fits your style, here are some other topics we care about: social justice, environmentalism, human rights, greed, poverty, sexuality, gender, race – anything political. Everything is.

4. Burton fit the demographic!

“In a country where publishing and writing is always an endangered activity, seeking out new writers is, we think, one of the most political moves you can make.”
– Clive Thompson, This editor for the first Lit Hunt

The Lit Hunt targets new writers because we want to affirm their value in the world. In his editorial 15 years ago, Thompson described poetry as “the quintessentially anti-market product” — a human act with no “for rent” sign on it. We want to show that your fiction, poetry and graphic stories have value. Send them in and we’ll prove it.

The winners of the 2010 Great Canadian Literary Hunt are now all online for your reading pleasure, and we wanted to take this opportunity to introduce you to the hard-working judges who read through the entries to select this year’s winners. (Just a reminder that we’ve got a handy megalink to all the winning entries at http://2th.is/10HuntWinners.) Our thanks to these talented writers, artists, and poets: we couldn’t do it without you.

UPDATE: The one person who was — mortifyingly — left off this list of people deserving thanks is Stuart Ross, our fiction and poetry editor, who reads every single entry that comes in, helps recruit judges, and supports the contest throughout its almost year-long production process. The only explanation I have for why he wasn’t thanked in this note originally (and that’s still no excuse) is that he’s so instrumental to the contest that we tend to take his guidance and assistance for granted. For that, Stuart, I apologize. Thank you.

We would also like to thank contest coordinator Natalie Samson, who made the whole contest run smoothly this year. Our thanks, finally, to the volunteers who helped make the contest happen: Chantal Arseneault, Claudia Calabro, Luke Champion, Brianne Diangelo, Stef Duerr, Katie Findlay, Claire Haist, Heather Hogan, Kelli Korducki, Allen Kwan, Cory Lavender, Robyn Letson, Jesse Mintz, Vanessa Parks, Anne Thériault, Chris Sorenson, Melissa Wilson, and Ashley Winnington-Ball. Thank you!

Here are your judges for the 2010 contest:

Short Fiction

Gary Barwin is a writer and musician in Hamilton, Ontario. He is the author of a number of books of poetry and fiction, most recently The Porcupinity of the Stars. His website is garybarwin.com.

Jenn Farrell is a Vancouver-based writer and editor, and two-time winner of the Vancouver Courier fiction contest. she is the author most recently of the short story collection The Devil You Know.

Nicole Markotic teaches creative writing at the University of Windsor, and is the author of the novel Yellow Pages and the poetry collections Connect the Dots and Minotaurs and Other Alphabets. Her chapbook more excess won the bpnichol Poetry chapbook award.

Poetry

Alice Burdick is a Nova Scotian poet. Her second major poetry collection is Flutter, which focuses on the small things and important moments of semi-rural life.

Dani Couture was born in Toronto and raised on a number of Canadian Forces bases. She is the author of two books of poetry and is currently working on her first novel, Black Bear on Water.

Jim W. Smith is the author of half a dozen books of poetry and chapbooks. He founded the poetry magazine The Front, and its spinoff, Front Press, published the work of many of Canada’s most important poets. He now works as a lawyer in Toronto, where he continues to write.

Graphic Narrative

Jeff Lemire was born and raised on a farm in Southern Ontario, which inspired his “Essex County” trilogy of graphic novels. He is the author of The Nobody and Sweet Tooth, and in 2008 won the Joe Schuster award for Best Canadian Cartoonist and the Doug Wright award for emerging talent. See his work at jefflemire.com.

Evan Munday is a comics illustrator in Toronto. He is the author of Quarter-Life Crisis, about a post-apocalyptic toronto in which only the 25-year-olds have survived. His website is idontlikemundays.com

Jillian Tamaki is a Canadian illustrator living in Brooklyn, New York. She has published three books of art and comics, including Indoor Voice, published by Drawn and Quarterly. Visit her at jilliantamaki.com.

Click to see the PDF full-screen, or view on Issuu.

Click to see the PDF full-screen, or view on Issuu.

Click to see the PDF full-screen, or view on Issuu

November 13, 1971, The Pas, Manitoba. Four young white men drive past Helen Betty Osborne, a 19-year-old Cree girl. They call for her to get in the car and party with them. “I think I heard a yes,” one man taunts. When she refuses, the men pull her into the car and drive off.

Flip the page, to illustrated panels showing the RCMP knocking on her mother’s door, about to deliver the news of Osborne’s rape and murder. Winnipeg author David Alexander Robertson uses the advantages of a graphic novel to detail the horrific event in his book, The Life of Helen Betty Osborne.

“Her story is really close to my heart. All of us involved in it really got to know her,” Robertson says. His father comes from Norway House, the same small northern community where Osborne spent her early years.

Robertson had self-published two novels when the Helen Betty Osborne Memorial Foundation asked him to write a book about Osborne’s murder to use in schools. He came up with the idea for a graphic novel telling the story of the girl’s last days, showing her hanging out at high school with her friends and dreaming of becoming a teacher—depicting her as a person, not a victim. What’s left for discussion is the racism, sexism and indifference behind the fact that only one of the four men implicated was ever convicted, and only sixteen years after the fact. It’s a tale of sloppy police work, townfolk who wouldn’t speak up about what they knew, and official indifference to a pattern of white men sexually harassing aboriginal women and girls.

The racial tension that divided whites and aboriginals in The Pas in the 1970s has lessened, but Robertson argues his book is relevant all these years later because the problems that played a part in Osborne’s death are still very much at play. He sees a connection between Osborne and hundreds of other disappeared aboriginal women. “There are 520 murdered and missing aboriginal women in Canada, half of them in this decade. By telling Helen Betty Osborne’s story to a wider audience, it’s bringing a new awareness to the issue. We’re seeing the awareness build, but it’s a long slow build.”

Robertson’s book is just the latest in a string of non-fiction Canadian graphic novels to surface. Many landmark works are personal projects, like Skim by Mariko and Jillian Tamaki—which, like Robertson’s book, sketches the life of a teenage girl. Others, like Chester Brown’s footnoted history Louis Riel: A Comic-Strip Biography or Guy Delisle’s Burma Chronicles take a more documentary approach. These home-grown examples follow in the footsteps of global successes like Joe Sacco’s pointillist reportage on the Bosnian War with The Fixer, Marjane Satrapi’s memoir of an Iranian childhood in Persepolis, and Art Spiegelman’s Pulitzer Prize-winning holocaust memoir, Maus.

Unlike these creators, Robertson writes the script but leaves the art to others. For Osborne, illustrator Madison Blackstone applied a range of graphic techniques, including full-colour paintings and black and white drawings. Some panels mesh drawings and photographs, underlining that this project is based on a real woman; the photos show the flowers and cigarette lighters that continue to be placed on Osborne’s grave and memorial, the hold she has on people’s memory in a town that cannot forget her death.

“I love the way that graphic novels offer different ways to engage people, from elementary school to people in their sixties,” Robertson says. For his next project, he’s working on a comic book series called 7 Generations, a historical work of fiction focused on the Plains Cree area. “It’s all about the impact of history, how can we address that and move on.”

Graphic novels are long past being comic relief. Robertson’s new book joins a growing tradition that expands our idea of what to expect from the un-funny pages.