I have an ongoing debate with a friend about the value of graphic novels (aka book-length comics). He lured me in initially with V for Vendetta and added to my collection with a gift of Watchmen and Y: The Last Man. I’ve read the first two, but haven’t gotten to the latter.
Perhaps I’m a snob, but there’s something that feels so adolescent about reading with pictures. Objectively, I know this issue is a personal one. Time has even gone so far as to place Watchmen on its list of All-Time 100 Novels. So, as an avid reader, why can’t I embrace graphic novels with the same abandon as the traditional book form (and why should you care)?
My graphic novel discomfort is an example of something plaguing many of us: when things we love take different forms, we aren’t always willing to share or to transfer that love equally. Translation: we’re missing opportunities.
Love Across Party Lines
Consider this application: in theory, as citizens of the United States, we love our country. However, every time a political party takes power we run the risk that our love will be compromised if said party’s ideology is the opposite of ours. For the last eight years, a growing number of people actively spoke out and campaigned against President Bush. Like all presidents before him, Obama now faces similar adversaries.
Of late, the media has been absorbed with the kerfluffle about who heads the Republican party and Rush Limbaugh saying he hopes President Obama fails. Much debate has ensued, with a large chunk focused on whether citizens who don’t agree with him should hope Obama fails and by default, don’t hope that our circumstances improve.
Whatever side you come down on, I think there’s a point being overlooked. We can still love something even as we’re critical and unsure of its different forms. For instance, I think people who say they hope Obama fails should take the time to provide an alternative. Love of something isn’t just about pleasure. It comes with responsibility
Squeeze’em Until It Hurts
We can take this attitude in multiple areas, not just politics. As companies morph into different things, or change their products, we either choose to adapt or push back (see Jackie Huba’s excellent write up on the Tropicana redesign drama). And simply because we can’t embrace the new form of our original love, doesn’t mean the new lacks value.
I will probably never choose a graphic novel over a traditional one, just as you may never choose to support a Republican over a Democrat or buy products in new packaging. However, the only person who looks foolish if I never consider the “new” honestly is me. Do you really want to be foolish?