Blankets Craig Thompson

Since childhood, humans have been prisoners bound at their neck and feet in a cave, facing a wall, and unable to turn their heads. Behind them is a walled path, traversed by people carrying statues of animals and humans and beyond that is a fire illuminating the cave. From the prisoners’ perspective, all that can be seen are the shadows of these statues projected upon a wall by the fire; sort of like a shadow puppet show, only the prisoners aren’t aware that what they see are shadows or puppets; they think they’re studying reality. And some of the people carrying the statues are silent, others talking, but because of an echo, the prisoners suppose it is the shadows that are talking.

Now if a prisoner was released from his binds, allowed to turn about and examine his surroundings; it’d be a shock to his entire system. In fact, he’d probably believe that what he’d previously known was the truth, and that this was a sort of heresy. Gradually, he’d realize that what he’d known as a human was merely the shadow of a statue of a human. What an even greater shock it would be to bring the prisoner out of the cave and into the sunlight. The initial effect would be blinding. Slowly, perhaps, they could adapt to this new world — studying, at first, what they know — shadows — then being able to examine the sky, but only at night.

The final step would be the ability to study the sky in the day, to look directly into the light of the sun. Light and dark are drawn with a number two watercolor brush and Speedball Super Black India Ink, on vellum Bristol board, in a loose, sloppy look, a very expressive line not unlike Edmond Baudoin’s. The story is as fluid and as focused as the ink work. Blankets unfolds as two narratives, one about two brothers growing up in the isolated country, and one about a coming-of-age romance. In the end, the book extends beyond these two relationships to personal themes — spiritual struggle, self-acceptance, and outgrowing a christian fundamentalist upbringing.