Kindred, by Octavia Butler & Kindred: A Graphic Novel Adaptation, by Damian Duffy and John Jennings
I've been meaning to read Octavia Butler for such a long time; she's a true trailblazer, a black woman writing science fiction at a time when both African-Americans and women were hardly being published in sci fi at all (it's better now, but we've still got a lot of work to do). When an opportunity arose to invite the graphic novel adapters of Kindred to my bookstore, I leapt at the chance. I chose it for our book club pick this past month, Damian and John joined our discussion, enriching it deeply.
I decided to read the original novel first; many book club members had read it in the past, and their reading of the graphic novel was their second time with the material. I can't say that I enjoyed reading it, because it's brutal and draining, but the more I think about it, the more impressed I am with what it accomplishes. Dana is a black woman in the 1970s who has just moved to a new home with her husband in Los Angeles. Suddenly and inexplicably, she is transported to a rushing river, where a white boy is flailing and clearly drowning. Despite her disorientation, Dana jumps in and saves him, only to find herself face to face with an angry man pointing a large gun at her head. Terrified, she suddenly finds herself back at home, where her husband is astonished that she is somehow on the other side of the room after having disappeared for a few seconds.
This is the first of several trips, to what Dana realizes is Maryland in the early 1800s. This is not a good place, nor time, to be a black woman. She figures out that there is a personal connection to the boy she saved, and she has a vested interest in keeping him alive, despite watching him grow to become a slave owner.
The power of this novel is in its depiction of plantation life. We all know slavery was terrible, but Butler does a fantastic job of bringing its cruelties and injustices to life. In the adaptation, these people's pain is vivid and heart wrenching. Ties of parentage and ownership are convoluted, and often it is this that keeps the slaves from running or killing themselves. The novel is notable as a work of feminism, as well. Rape is an everyday occurrence for many of these women, but to assume that repetition lead to acceptance is naive. These were people, with the same gamut of emotions we all experience, held in unimaginable conditions. The immediacy Butler creates with the narrative reminds us that slavery exists still today, all over the world, but quietly, insidiously.
Damian and John's adaptation brings Octavia Butler to a new generation, and she is indeed seeing a resurgence. Her work is still timely, still powerful, and I think we will be reading Kindred and her other books for a long time.
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I decided to read the original novel first; many book club members had read it in the past, and their reading of the graphic novel was their second time with the material. I can't say that I enjoyed reading it, because it's brutal and draining, but the more I think about it, the more impressed I am with what it accomplishes. Dana is a black woman in the 1970s who has just moved to a new home with her husband in Los Angeles. Suddenly and inexplicably, she is transported to a rushing river, where a white boy is flailing and clearly drowning. Despite her disorientation, Dana jumps in and saves him, only to find herself face to face with an angry man pointing a large gun at her head. Terrified, she suddenly finds herself back at home, where her husband is astonished that she is somehow on the other side of the room after having disappeared for a few seconds.
This is the first of several trips, to what Dana realizes is Maryland in the early 1800s. This is not a good place, nor time, to be a black woman. She figures out that there is a personal connection to the boy she saved, and she has a vested interest in keeping him alive, despite watching him grow to become a slave owner.
The power of this novel is in its depiction of plantation life. We all know slavery was terrible, but Butler does a fantastic job of bringing its cruelties and injustices to life. In the adaptation, these people's pain is vivid and heart wrenching. Ties of parentage and ownership are convoluted, and often it is this that keeps the slaves from running or killing themselves. The novel is notable as a work of feminism, as well. Rape is an everyday occurrence for many of these women, but to assume that repetition lead to acceptance is naive. These were people, with the same gamut of emotions we all experience, held in unimaginable conditions. The immediacy Butler creates with the narrative reminds us that slavery exists still today, all over the world, but quietly, insidiously.
Damian and John's adaptation brings Octavia Butler to a new generation, and she is indeed seeing a resurgence. Her work is still timely, still powerful, and I think we will be reading Kindred and her other books for a long time.
Shop indie!
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