Blankets

Blankets was an excellent piece of art. It moved me with the main character, feeling his triumphs, guilt, pain, pleasure, and regret. The flow of the comic gave you a wonderful view into his life.

I have to say that so many of the scenes where Craig was plagued by the doubts, worries, and spirits of his imagination, his guilt, his sin, it reminded me of myself... The religious tones of the story reflect that of my own life, finding that religion gave form to my life at one point in time, and then, quickly, began to eat away at the self I discovered. His exploration of the world as a religious child makes the world seem cruel, envious, and decaying, when in the end, it was the religious message that missed its mark. The "real-life" message, not the one in the comic.

The exploration of adolescent lust, love, and temptation, and dissolution was so eloquently done, its a maze of empathic expression. Though our own stories differ, often, we find the elements ring true regardless of the little details that make them unique. It's a comfort to see the ways things could have been, were, or could be. Meanwhile, it's a greater comfort to know that there are others, that you are never alone. Your experience is unique, but the feeling is universal. I'd say almost, but the universal in this sense is hopeful for all of humanity.

The only downfall of Blankets is that the medium in which it is conveyed often guarantees the sympathy of its readers. Not to say that people who read comics or graphic novels are all romantics, or nerds, or outcasts, but it seems that the love of the written word, and of art, fall to those who are more interested in the world beyond their experience. If the jocks, and bullies, and rednecks, the people who made Craig's life miserable (and my life miserable for some period of time) were to read this novel, I don't see how they couldn't be irrevocably changed... but my knowledge of the human mind and psyche tells me that no change would occur, that they would avoid the novel or that its multitude of messages would fall on deaf ears. It saddens me to no end the despair caused by man to their fellow man.

But, as the story goes, it's about faith, not the way in which it comes about, or the trials the ensue. Without some sort of faith, faith in yourself, God, or others, life leads so often to despair or cruelty. I warmed my heart to see that despite all that Craig did, and endured, and the pain (even unknown) he inflicted on others, he kept the blanket. It meant everything to her as a connection to him, and though he burned her picture and all the stuff of hers that he had, he kept that symbol, that comfort. Which, I feel, we all need. Not a blanket, but rather our Blanket. The thing, person, idea, or ideal that comforts us. Makes life bearable, livable, even... happy.