I’ve been reading the graphic novel “Bone” for the last few days, after having picked up the complete epic one-volume edition and letting it idle on my shelf for a while. It requires me to be sitting, because at thirteen hundred pages the book is a brick of paper. In other words, it doesn’t get taken on the train, and instead I resort to propping it up on a pillow in bed and driving through another chapter-slash-book in a fit of marathon reading.
It’s pretty good.
The story revolves around the cryptically-epic adventures of a trio of stylistically simple cousins, the Bones, who somewhat In medias res find themselves lost in the Valley after being run out of their hometown. In the Valley they are drawn into a sweeping kind-of medieval adventure and battle for the same, the back-story slowly unfolding around them as their time there passes through the pages of the comic.
As far as graphic novels go, it seems unique. It’s not a super-hero epic, or a dark tale of humanity like one might find in an Alan Moore story. It’s not a fantastic story of the paranormal drawn from the likes of Neil Gaiman. Nor is it anything like the dark historical truths not-so-hidden in Art Spiegelman’s works. Instead, it’s a kind of fusion between cartoon and wind-swept epic, frequently cited as a cross between Schultz’s Peanuts strips and the Lord of the Rings. Weird, huh?
I’m about half way done, so a review at this point is not really fair. But I’m enjoying it. I want to finish it. That’s a good thing, right? And it makes me want to spend some time drawing. Itching to create. Brain burning with silly, sketchily ideas. That’s good too, I suppose.