This exquisite, wordless graphic novel—six chapters and 128 pages long, each page consisting of from one to twelve sepia-toned drawings—tells the story of a nameless man who leaves his home and family to find a better life in a new land. It is the ageless story of the migrant, the refugee. In this case, sinister dragonlike tails wave over the city he is leaving behind, suggesting political oppression or some other danger. And the new land is full of strangeness: a strange language, strange architecture, strange food, strange pets even. We watch as he manages to find a place to sleep—where he meets his own friendly-creature pet—tries to find a job, learns how to feed himself on the bizarre fruits of the land, and meets others with tales of departure and arrival of their own, who help him along. Some of the drawings present intimate sequences of action; others portray overviews of this new place he finds himself in. They work together to convey the sense of disorientation and confusion that a newcomer feels in a strange land, but also the moments of comfort and homecoming.
Here is Tan, a native of Western Australia, talking about The Arrival on the occasion of it being set to music:
This book invites one to return again and again, to study the more elaborate, single-page or full-spread drawings for detail, or to stitch together the smaller drawings for story.
All ends well, with the family being reunited in their new home: the first and sixth chapters mirror each other both narratively and graphically. It's a flat-out beautiful book, and dare I say an important one as well.
No comments:
Post a Comment