The art of Swallow Me Whole - Emily
Swallow Me Whole, a graphic novel, is another contender for the spot of my favorite book, and for the same reason as House of Stairs (last month’s book): the pure psychology of the story, as well as the way it is written, thrills me. It details the life and mental state of a girl named Ruth. She and her stepbrother, Perry, both have schizophrenia. The art of Swallow Me Whole directly reflects the world Ruth lives in and the struggles she faces. Although some scenes focus on Perry, Ruth is the main character of the book, and as such, the book shows the world through her eyes.
Unlike most graphic novels, the book is drawn completely in black and white. There is not a splash of color anywhere in the book (except for the cover, which is in full color). That is exactly how Ruth sees the world: everything is either black or white, good or bad. She experiences intense mood swings, switching from completely distant to boiling mad in an instant, or being totally disconnected from the world around her in general.
Instead of using a pre-made font, Powell chose to handwrite all the text. The result is a unique level of customization that allows the reader to experience how dialogue is perceived by different characters. When Ruth tries to talk to her mom, who is hard of hearing, the words are in small, sloppy cursive--they’re legible, but just barely, and it takes active concentration to decipher what look like scribbles at first glance. Other times, words curve and snake through panels as Ruth disassociates and loses herself in a world of her own. Some characters speak in bold, capital letters, while others are neat lowercase. The messiness of the writing parallels the messiness of Ruth’s world: she does not see things in neat typeface like most others.
Finally, there is one transition in the book that always strikes me. Exactly, physically in the middle of the book, where the binding is visible, Ruth gets a haircut. In the first half of the book, she is a rather timid person, with long black hair almost to her waist, lost in her own world half the time, and never really present. However, in the second half, with her hair cut chin-length, she is more outgoing, landing a job at the local museum that lets her see what interests her up close. She also lashes out at both her teacher and her parents, getting her in serious trouble multiple times. The abruptness of the change in behavior is what makes it stand out to me. Instead of a long, drawn-out scene of Ruth’s hair being cut, there is one large picture of her, lying in bed--but there is no bed drawn, her blanket just hangs down into black nothingness--with her hair falling down in small chunks to the bottom of the page. Immediately after, the book shows her getting the museum job. It’s almost as if the haircut was done by magic.
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