Christophe Chaboute tells the story of a park bench’s “life” - the people who walk past it, who sit on it, who they are, what they’re doing, and so on. And it sounds gimmicky and contrived but it’s actually a very poignant “read”. I say “read” because there are no words but there’s something very powerful about silent narratives - think the first five minutes of Up or the animated short Paperman. They’re incredibly moving and deeply memorable sequences in large part due to their simplicity in communicating arguably the most extraordinary emotion: love.
An elderly couple who sit on the bench and share a pastry every week; a homeless man who sleeps on the bench every night and his nemesis, the local copper, who fruitlessly tries to keep him away from the park; the glum businessman who walks past it everyday until one day he decides to quit his job and take up music again; and the kids who carve their love into the wood and the married adults they become.
Yes, it’s a very sentimental kind of book - very Shel Silverstein-ish in fact - but undeniably and strongly tugs at the heart-strings. Chaboute’s gorgeous inked art perfectly captures the body language of the characters so you always know what’s happening on the page - his storytelling is extremely high level and if it were less the book wouldn’t be nearly as effective.
I won’t say it’s a perfect read because I prefer a stronger narrative than this collection of slightly connected storylines. But I still really liked The Park Bench, proving that anything, when told well, and if the creator’s heart and mind are in sync, can be great art.
No comments:
Post a Comment