The Adoption by Zidrou and Monin

Monin does have a first name: Arno. Zidrou doesn't. Or, at least, his comics never use more than the single name; I don't know if "Zidrou" was originally a family name or a personal name or his favorite corner fish-shop or an important mountain peak or something else random and quirky.

But this book was written by Zidrou, and drawn by Arno Monin. It collects two related albums, published in France in 2016 and translated by Jeremy Melloul for this 2020 English-language edition.

It's called The Adoption, exactly what the French title was. It's about a grumpy man in his 70s, Gabriel Van Oosterbeek, whose son Alain and his English wife Lynette adopt a Peruvian orphan, Qinaya, after a major earthquake. Alain and Lynette have tried and failed for a long time to have children the usual way, we think - they're deeply into their middle years, and Alain's sister Gabrielle already has two sullen teenagers.

You are already guessing how the story starts: you are very likely right. Gabriel is initially reluctant, but his new four-year-old granddaughter quickly softens his heart, and quickly becomes an integral part of his life over the course of the ensuing summer.

You may think both albums will follow that obvious story: you are very much wrong. There is a big twist near the end of the first album, which leads me to be very vague right now.

It is about Gabriel much more than Qinaya - that may be a bit of a hint as to the direction of the big twist, but it's as far as I'll go. Both volumes are about him, first dealing with the initial adoption and then, later, with the repercussions of what happened.

Monin draws this with vibrant colors and a painterly eye: the cover shows what he can do with landscape and design, but the book itself is much more focused on faces. His people are realistically lumpy and distinctive, both the French and the Peruvians. And Zidrou, as I'm coming to think is characteristic for him, tells the story crisply, dropping hints in dialogue and quietly building in clean structures to a story that seems to "just flow."

So it's lovely and thoughtful, in equal measures. It's also published as an album-format hardcover (paper-over-boards, without a dustjacket) in English, which is the way I'd prefer to read bandes dessinees and which shows off Monin's art very well. A very nice package for a very good story: if the idea interests you at all, I strongly recommend it.