The story told in this book is based on events that occurred in the United States almost two hundred years ago. And yet they sound terribly close. In 1832, in a society where slavery is still a right, a young black woman begins her studies at a school where all the students are white. Her mere presence in the classroom is seen by others as a threat and a provocation.
Around White (Editorial Standard, with translation by Eva Reyes de Uña) is one of the best surprises that Franco-Belgian comics have left us in recent years. A work that, without breaking head-on with the canonical tradition of the European comic album, manages to renew and revitalize it, modernizing both its discourse and its aesthetics, offering a mature, adult, emotional and intelligent story. The story is read to him in one sitting, because it is difficult not to be swept up in this story and not turn page after page with increasing uneasiness.
Wilfrid Lupano (screenwriter of The Old Furnaces), has written this story with the necessary dose of authenticity and with a great sense of rhythm, which he knows how to handle with equal mastery both in the dialogue scenes and in the silent sequences, both of which are extremely important. In the dialogues, Lupano skilfully introduces the historical context of the time and knows how to show the doubts, fears and different sensitivities of the protagonists. He also manages to describe well the different forms of struggle that are embodied by both the students and the teacher and activist Prudence Crandall, a historic name in the fight for the abolition of slavery.
These dialogues help to move the story forward and at the same time contribute to giving it entity and giving it nuances that distance it from all simplicity when dealing with such a complex issue. But at the same time, they are dialogues that never sound false. Nor do they sound fake when the album gives a voice to the white population, frightened by what they consider an unbearable threat to their dominant status. For them, the perplexity –and the affront– is doubly inexplicable: because they are a black population and because they are women who want to go to school. “How is that going to help them in their daily chores,” says a white woman.
As for the silent scenes, which are few, it can be said that some contain the most intense moments of this album, which demonstrates the ability of these vignettes to create a deep story with the mere support of the images. Some images that are, without a doubt, another of Blanco’s strengths around him. Stéphane Fert’s drawing is fabulously beautiful. Elastic and plastic. Sinuous and expressive. Sublimated by a color that enhances what these pages tell at all times. A work that places this illustrator who became known in children’s albums –and whose comic Morgana has just been published– as one of the cartoonists to take into account in the coming years.
This is a story of denunciation and vindication of a long fight against racism and in favor of equal opportunities. A story in which the authors have managed to flee from Manichaeism and simplicity, despite making a story easy to read (that is its greatness). It is even capable of tackling thorny debates, such as whether or not the use of violence to achieve a noble goal is legitimate, which is particularly well treated in these pages.
Both the brief but inexcusable prologue and the documented epilogue that closes the album help to place the story in a context of struggle and vindication that is still necessary in our century, either for the same reasons that appear in this comic or for many others. that easily come to mind when reading these pages.
