I like graphic novels.
For me they’re light reading, since the genre is so visual that I can
read a book in an evening even with all the other distractions of life. I also
like the pictures, and I know that writing a graphic novel, drawing it and
inking it are as much work as writing an equivalently lengthy prose novel.
The problem here is that the one of the genre’s strengths is
also a weakness. I can read a graphic novel, and it will have disappeared the
next day amid the other dross my brain has to deal with. I don’t necessarily like that, but I still
get and read them, so I think when I read graphic novels I am more in the
moment and less reflective and thoughtful of a reader, so my memories of the work
don’t last.
That’s the case here. The title is a good reflection of the
work’s effect on my mind. I read it, but for recall there is an absence of
sorts. I enjoyed reading it and the setting of coastal England mostly during
the war, and an eccentric rich guy building what he called a house in the
countryside.
I had read nothing of the book before I picked it up. I had just grabbed it off of the shelf of my
library. And here’s the thing. This is
what I remember most. The cover had a picture
of a man’s jaw with no lips. I tell you
what I was expecting – zombies. Were
there zombies? Not that I recall.
Overall a quick entertaining read and a nice way to pass the
evening. It won’t change your life or anything. There’s only one _Bone_, come
on.
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