Gilbert Hernandez more and more often this century has been making
comics stories that make imagistic sense or emotional sense rather than
logical sense and story sense. He was always the more experimental
Hernandez brother, making stories driven by imagery or jarring
juxtapositions, like fine art translated into panels, but those impulses
are more often translated into full-size projects these days, and not
just left as quirky back-ups in Love & Rockets. The Twilight Children continues in that vein -- it's the story of a series of unexplainable things that happen, and the people they happen to.
What makes it distinctive in that company -- along with the violent fantasia Fatima: The Blood Spinners and the wild-hair nuttiness of Girl Crazy and the closed timelike loops of Bumperhead, among others
-- is that this is a Gilbert Hernandez story seen through the eyes of a
different artist -- Darwyn Cooke, an equally accomplished
writer-artist. (So either of them could have told this story without the
other one's help, technically speaking -- but it wouldn't have been Twilight Children if so.)
Even more intriguingly, the book collection of Twilight Children
includes character sketches and layouts by Hernandez in the back. So,
if you're familiar with Hernandez's work, it's easy to picture how this
book could have looked -- panels and pages with the
Hernandez-drawn versions of these characters. (Those are a little more
worn-down and lumpy and sad, of course -- Cooke's people are
certainly not perfect, but they have his traditional mid-century glow
about them, and a sense that they're capable of doing anything.)
I'm
writing about that because the story is more difficult to grapple with:
it's set in a small Mexican town, as so often with Hernandez. Glowing
spheres appear, mysteriously. A group of children encounter the spheres,
and emerge blind -- but possibly with psychic powers. A strange,
alluring white-haired young woman appears suddenly from nowhere. People
die and come back. Authorities are called, and clash, and investigate,
and are confused. A lot of characters have a lot of agendas, which clash, not all that conclusively. And then it all ends.
As I implied
above, I don't have a logical way to describe what happens. I don't
think Hernandez does either; I don't think that's how he constructs
stories like this. The numinous impinged on this one small town briefly,
and then withdrew. Expecting that to make human sense is futile.
So Twilight Children
is a lovely, thoughtful, well-characterized enigma -- or, more
accurately, an ink-blot, in which we can all see ourselves. Cooke's art
makes it something different from a pure Hernandez story -- maybe
pulling it a bit in the direction of the comics "mainstream," if you
want to think of it that way. It's a good introduction to that side of
Hernandez, and I hope Cooke's name will help that happen; Hernandez is
brilliant, but I have a sense his fans are relatively few and clustered,
leaving him ignored by a lot of supposed comics-lovers.
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