Book Report: A Fire Story

18. Brian Fies, A Fire Story: A Graphic Memoir (2019) (9/16/19)

I first stumbled on graphic artist Brian Fies's memoir about the Tubbs Fire of October 8–9, 2017, on Facebook. As he recounts in the epilogue to this book, the very day after he and his wife were forced to evacuate, at 1:30 a.m.—and after they learned their house had been destroyed—he bought some crude drawing supplies (a pad of low-quality pulp newsprint, a permanent marker, a fine-tip black felt pen, and four highlighters) and started drawing. He posted those drawings online, and they went viral—and subsequently were picked up by newspapers and radio nationwide. The initial story was also made into a short film.

This book takes the story even further, recounting both the Fieses' experience and the experience of some of their neighbors. It describes the emotional impact, what it feels like to suffer the loss of, well, everything; what it's like to flee with no notice, to find a new place to live, to sift through the debris, to find contractors and architects in order to rebuild. It describes the thoughtfulness of family, friends, and strangers, and the feeling of community that arises from disaster.

At one spot early on he talks about being denied access to his home site, although plenty of other people were allowed in:

Firefighters, police, and the national guard all got to go in. FEMA and the EPA got to go in. Reporters, photographers, and TV crews got to go in.
 So did the public works department, the electric and gas utilities, the water company, the cable company, the phone company, and the dogcatcher.
 It seemed like everyone got to go in but us.
 "It's our property! Why are they treating us like children? I'll accept the risk!" [says Brian to his wife, Karen].
 "They don't want to be here any longer than they have to, you know . . ." [Karen replies].
 I later learned that, on the very day I was at my most indignant, search and rescue teams were going house to house checking bedsprings for human bones.

I was one of those SAR workers. Our team searched about a dozen homes, and yes, we did find a couple of bones, but more often we learned that people were safe and clear—the best news. Here's one of the happy stories.

I really enjoyed Fies's storytelling abilities, as well as his vulnerability and honesty, and his humanity. He has a big heart and understands what's truly precious in life. Yes, some of the things they lost are irreplaceable, and he's sad to have lost them. But he's learned new lessons about memory, hope, and promise. This book is a moving testament to that.

P.S. Here is a nice little update to the story, published in October 2019 in the Press Democrat.