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Oct. 20, 2006
Jewish storytelling in pictures
Miriam Libicki's comic strips deconstruct stereotypes.
MOREY ALTMAN
You won't find caped crusaders or masked superheroes in any of
Miriam Libicki's comic books.
Her self-produced comic, Jobnik!, chronicles her day-to-day
life in the Israeli army in frank, often blunt terms. Jobnik is
Israeli slang for someone in the army with a desk job. More of a
graphic diary than a comic, Jobnik! imparts a rarely seen
perspective of an army generally viewed as vigilant and relentless.
Jobnik! takes us behind the scenes, where soldiers wash dishes,
file reports and fool around.
Libicki grew up in Ohio and has lived in Jerusalem and Seattle but
now calls Vancouver home. She also spent two years in the Israel
Defence Forces as a volunteer.
When she left the army, Libicki knew she had a story to tell, but
didn't originally consider doing a comic. "I had always read
comics but didn't think I wanted to draw one," she said in
an interview with the Independent. "I didn't think I
had the attention span to do a series."
After an unfulfilling year of studies in Seattle, Libicki moved
to Vancouver for a summer digital imaging class at Emily Carr Institute
of Art and Design. Despite some trepidation, she decided to use
an excerpt from her diary – detailing her worst week in the
army – as a source to create a five-page web-comic. "It
wasn't great looking," she admitted, "but people were
very encouraging."
In a writing class, she worked on short stories – all presented
as comics, based on her army exploits. The short comics were good
for practise and generated positive feedback, but she realized that,
to tell the story fully, she would have to take the project out
of school. Not that the school environment was a problem. Despite
the provocative subject matter, schoolmates were supportive. "It
was a very lefty place," said Libicki, "but very polite.
People generally shunned debate to avoid conflict."
As a Jewish comic artist, Libicki is in good company. Like Hollywood
in its infancy, the nascent comic business was initially viewed
as being outside the artistic mainstream. Young, Jewish artists
closed out of the commercial art scene but willing to work in a
fringe industry pitched comic strips to penny-pinching publishers
eager for cheap content. Hungry and talented pioneers like Joe Shuster
and Jerry Siegel (Superman), Bob Kane (Batman) and Stan Lee (Spiderman)
defined the superhero genre, while maverick innovators like Will
Eisner (the Spirit) and Harvey Kurtzman (Mad magazine) pushed
the industry in new directions, using comics to explore sociopolitical
realities of American life. Many of the Jewish comic writers reflected
their own immigrant experiences, creating characters with shy, ordinary
alter egos that could transform into "superhero" super-citizens
fighting for the American way. The profound influence of its Jewish
forefathers was the inspiration for Michael Chabon's Pulitzer Prize-winning
novel about the comic industry, The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier
and Klay.
Still, despite the umpteen Jewish artists and writers, Jewish-themed
stories were few and far between. It was one thing to adapt biblical
narratives and Yiddish legends, but openly Jewish characters remained
in the background.
In 1978, Will Eisner redefined the industry with his landmark graphic
novel, A Contract with God, which explored New York's immigrant
Jewish life in the early 20th century. Although not the first attempt
at serious literature in the comic medium, A Contract with God
enjoyed commercial and critical success, introducing the graphic
novel concept to a new audience. Art Spiegelman's Pulitzer Prize-winning
graphic novel MAUS: A Survivor's Tale, the first chapter
of which appeared in 1986, explored the Holocaust and issues of
Jewish trauma and guilt using mice and cats to represent Jews and
Nazis, respectively. It's a stark, powerful work that blurs the
lines between comics and literature. Both Eisner and Spiegelman
opened the door for other Jewish storytellers considering the comic
genre.
Today, Libicki is part of this growing trend of comics and graphic
novels with Jewish themes, indicative of an increasing interest
in Judaism in the mainstream world and a heightened sense of confidence
and maturity in Jewish artists. Jewish comics now range from the
shamelessly religious, like Alan Oirich's Jewish Hero Corp.,
which features characters named Menorah Man and the Shabbos Queen
(fighting for Jewish values and truth, no less) to J.T. Waldman's
richly detailed graphic novel Megillat Esther, published
earlier this year by the Jewish Publication Society of America.
Even the old mavens have gotten into the act. Joe Kubert, a 60-year
veteran of the comic business, has recently released two graphic
novels, both with Jewish themes: Yossel, which describes
what Kubert's life may have been like if he was born in Poland,
and Jew Gangster, a memoir of growing up in Brooklyn in the
1930s.
Libicki's Jewish content isn't overt, but comes up naturally. The
five issues of Jobnik! she has completed thus far describe
only the first few months of her army ordeal. Her story is sad,
sometimes mundane in a deliberate way, and always honest. The black
and white, hand-drawn images have improved since the first comic.
"I was trying not to be cartoony," Libicki said. "I'm
still trying to find my cartoon shorthand." It's the story
that stands out. As much about a young girl's period of sexual awakening
as the routine of army life, it feels a little like reading someone
else's diary – which of course, we are.
"The Jobnik! stuff is very much a personal story and
not polemic," said Libicki. Still, she doesn't shy away from
expressing candid opinions. "I wish I could say I have no politics,"
she noted, "but of course I do. They're in everything I write."
Like her mentors, Libicki also explores themes of isolation and
cultural marginalization.
"I was smart, weird, shy and dressed funny," she writes
of herself in one of her comics. She grew up in an observant home
but bemoans her difficulties with tzniut (modesty), a challenge
many young, modern Jews can appreciate. She was introduced to comics
early on, reading them on Shabbat afternoons. Eisner was a big influence.
"Eisner's characters always have gesturing hands – even
when they're not Jewish!" she said. "I was a giant fan,
even before I knew I was supposed to be."
In Israel, she was always an outsider. The army classified her as
introverted and excessively emotional, and possessing poor Hebrew
skills. They sent her to an armored corps training base in southern
Israel.
"People always ask if it was dangerous," Libicki joked,
"and I say 'no, I was a secretary.' " But her time there
was clearly not uneventful.
Libicki says she still has two-thirds of the story to tell. "I'm
still pretty entrenched in the army story – even nostalgic
– even though it was a lousy time," she confessed.
While working on the comics, Libicki hasn't stopped painting and
drawing. If anything, the various mediums now tend to meld together.
"I'm trying to bring my art influence into my comics –
not that painting is better than comics," she said.
She's also recently published her final assignment for Emily Carr,
where she completed the bachelor of fine arts program this year.
Towards a Hot Jew: The Israeli Soldier as Fetish Object is
a provocative and innovative drawn essay, which counters with both
the artwork and text the stereotype of the Jewish nebbish. Her pencil
sketches portray multi-colored Jewish men and women in uniform,
appearing strong, sexy and confident. And she doesn't shy away from
difficult images of Israeli soldiers as overseers of Palestinians.
It's a complex portrayal that isn't instantly appreciated.
"The first time my mother read it, she said, 'It's no good
for the Jews,'" said Libicki. "But now she likes it. There's
a lot less sex than my comics."
To view and order issues one to five of Jobnik! and Towards
a Hot Jew: The Israeli Soldier as Fetish Object, visit Libicki's
website, www.realgonegirl.com.
Morey Altman is a Vancouver freelance writer.
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