When I approached the world of comics, the idea that I had was very common.
The comic was (and could not be) medium of entertainment, of absolute fun, hard to classify as literature, even if it wanted to use to accompany the noun, the attribute 'child'.
As such, it was (the idea that I had, I continue to say) for children and only rarely managed to include titles can be enjoyed even by a mature audience.
This sort of exception was designed by my conscience in trying to find justifications to the fact that I bought Rat-man (which, I admit, I continue to buy).
Historieta, therefore, as the Argentines call the comic book, reflecting the collective consciousness - I believe - that idea a communication tool intended only to entertain child and to distract.
Then the Enola Gay dropped the bomb.
But here I have to take a step back. I have not yet told of my passion for history: those who want to get an idea then I invite you to my office, a room whose walls are completely (and is not an exaggeration) lined with shelves on which books now stand in double row.
Passion in the Passion, then, the Second World War, partly because it comes from that much of the current geopolitical situation and, therefore, is what I try to find explanations for many of the great events of the last century and that just begun, in part because of my mother's aunt and uncle have lived in first person, and when a child was their guest, I have told [it is because of this duality of reasons, when I talk about history, not just thinking to that written with capital "S", the story of generals, the armies of states, but also to infinitesimal fragments that compose it, the story "tiny" of individuals, from "mechanical people and small business"].
But back to where I was: the Enola Gay, the bomb.
About two years ago, I read a history book, "Hiroshima" by John Hersey, published for PIEMME types. This is a collection of the testimonies of six people who were in Hiroshima on August 6, 1945 and survivor as. Little story, then, however, able to clearly light the cruel and relentless was the gear of the story then "capital".
A friend, aware of my passion and knowledge of the reading, he returned with news from Comicstore: talking with Julius discovered that the store was still a rare copy of a comic book that talked about Hiroshima.
confess my doubts, "comic story" was, for me, never find oxymoron intended to composition. The only story in pictures recognize that dignity was that of television documentaries. But here, the images were real, not drawings by which closed in their closet, unaware of reality, throwing china on white sheets to recount, as storytellers, children's tales.
However, when a few days later, I went to Julie, I decided to read the back cover of the comic book in four volumes of Keiji Nakazawa, still printed on the price in pounds (25,000 each, to be exact). Given in full: " Gen Hiroshima is the tragic account of the launch of the first atomic bomb ... . From here I went to see the operation "literary" almost irreverent as to the seriousness and drama of the event narrated. But the fourth continued: "... A poignant autobiographical tale ... . It was the adjective, "autobiographical" in confusion: the bomb, at that time, had been dropped on my convictions and had left them in ruins. An autobiography, as a direct evidence that the six survivors of Hersey's book but the author had decided not to include the pages of a book publishing house of a noble, but in a comic book.
The fact beginning to take on new contours.
I bought four books and started reading, unconsciously - I think - to try to refute the story by comparing it with the book, that "serious" and acknowledge that in which I had always believed. But the more I enter in reading more I realized that what was reported by Nakazawa identical to what they had seen six of Hersey, with particularity, however, what you see now was a witness made to pictures, real pictures in strips of china . Photographs, moreover, in which the stretch was able to express the feelings of the photographer (the power that a photographer is often denied).
If I had read the book before January Piemme probably - because it was a cartoon and because I was what I was - I would have found exaggerated and I confirmed my ideas about historieta: for example, when Nakazawa, in some strips, drawing people with the skin, dissolving, slipping away from the limbs. But skin melted Hersey also spoke of the six. So I understand. Nakazawa
not paint: sketching.
It was his historieta historia.
Today, after two years, I devour comic historians consider to what in reality are reports, documents of equal dignity libroni covered by the covers, rents with no word and image.
'm a turncoat.
not speak for the time, subsequent readings (I will not burn once the material for future articles), but I want to emphasize a curiosity.
The back cover of Gen of Hiroshima continued with comments. I report a " Gen is one of the few comics that are now in a position to make a spell: to give birth to those little marks on paper from real life. This intense and harrowing story will burn in your memory like a radioactive crater and you'll never forget it .
are the words of that for me, then, was only a name written in capital letters: Art Spiegelman.
Vito Carella
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