50.1 m.r2 Grace
50.1 m.r2 Grace
50.1 m.r2 Grace
Dominick Grace
BEFORE I get to specifics, readers should be warned that this graphic novel includes explicit
sexual imagery and disturbing themes: it focuses on issues of sexual violence and consent. It
tells the story of a young man who follows a woman home after finding her lost sketch book.
When he discovers that the sketchbook includes graphic depictions of him engaging in sex
with her and with others, he enacts the scenarios. By the end of the book, we are told that,
in fact, the sketchbook belonged to a young girl who was sexually assaulted and murdered,
along with two other girls, apparently by our protagonist. Readers who find this subject
matter distressing should beware, and anyone should think carefully about whether this is
an appropriate book for classroom use.
Bezimena, Nina Bunjevac’s third graphic novel, is an extended surreal narrative in which
the line between reality and fantasy is not so much blurred as obliterated. Bunjevac identifies
the myth of Artemis and Sipriotes, the gender-bending tale of Sipriotes being punished for
an attempted rape by being transformed into a woman, as an inspiration. The book also
echoes the myth of Diana and Actaeon, the voyeur transformed into a stag and torn apart
by his own hunting dogs after seeing the naked Diana bathing in a pool. The fable of the
king who puts his face into a bowl of water, finds himself in another world and another
body, living another life until he removes his face from the water and is restored to himself,
is also a clear inspiration. Fairy tales, especially ones such as Little Red Riding Hood, also
inform the action. The work is dense, complex, and allusive—as well as elusive—requiring
readers to try to make sense of the story themselves, rather than spelling it out.
The work’s obliqueness is evident from the beginning, in the frame device of two
disembodied voices—the only voices to speak in the entire text—whose dialogue consists
of the story we read as told by one to the other. The voices manifest as word balloons on
black pages, one speaking from “below” the page (the tale-teller) and “above” the page
(the auditor). We know almost nothing about who they are or what their relative locations
mean. The tale teller recounts the story of a priestess who indulges in the habit of “perpetual
and needless suffering” until Bezimena thrusts her face into the pool (or perhaps river—
again, readers are left to judge, and how one interprets the moment may vary depending
on what sort of body of water one assumes this is) by which she has prostrated herself.
This act causes her spirit to separate from her body and to be reborn into a male infant
White Betty—a virginal victim, a temptress who takes pleasure in the transgressive sex
imaged in her sketchbook, a femme fatal who leads Benny to his doom—remains open.
How we are to read Benny—victim of primal urges he cannot control, monster, victim of
external manipulation and scapegoat for crimes he has not really committed (facing certain
conviction for his crimes, Benny hangs himself and finds himself back in the priestess’s
body)—remains open. The book is simultaneously intriguing and disturbing. It is an
exceptional achievement, refusing to offer pat or even palatable answers to the questions
it raises. It could engender fruitful discussions about several different discussions, but
students would need to be warned in advance about what they were being asked to read.