Do you remember Nick Bantock's Griffin & Sabine series of books? They were immensely popular in the 1990s and I even owned the first three of them. I mentioned yesterday that I foolishly weeded them from my book collection. I've decided to check them out from the library to read again, though I'm not sure I ever read the complete series of books when they were first released (likely the first but not so sure about the rest--there seem to be six in total). The idea of rereading the books came about from another book that is my most recent postal reading group book, The Tattooed Map, by Barbara Hodgson.
Although not as interactive as the Bantock books, the Hodgson is designed in a very similar vein. Griffin & Sabine is a story told through the correspondence between two characters separated by a great distance. There are envelopes to open and letters to remove and postcards to read, which tell the story. In The Tattooed Map a diary format is used, so there is nothing to open with the exception of the occasional page to fold out. However, it is heavily illustrated with maps, photos, ticket stubs, foreign currencies and notes written in the margins. Unlike the Bantock books, which use original art, the Hodgson relies of bits and pieces of ephemera. Both are very cool in their own way, and when I received The Tattooed Map in the mail it inspired me to look for other books that tell a story but use creative illustrations to embellish it.
It helps that The Tattooed Map has an exotic setting and an unusual story. Two friends and former lovers travel to North Africa. There the woman discovers that what begins as a mysterious mark on her hand turns into a tattoo, which grows into a map. It's a combination travel narrative and mystery, as the woman goes missing and her lover must try and find her.
My teaser is from the exotic city of Tangier where Chris and Lydia have just arrived.
"Night:
I don't really know what to make of this city yet. Actually, it's not really a city but it's definitely not a town. The French word ville seems to say it best. There's a mixture of lost sophistication--with the decaying, elegant homes and public buildings--and rawness, with the sounds of Arabic and the commotion in the streets. The thrill of trying to order a coffee in Arabic and continuing the conversation in broken French, Much more satisfying than France itself. The people here don't visibly scorn one's attempts.""Just sitting outside a café--look up the name when we leave. There's an amazing tableau, seemingly arranged just for us. The shoe-shine boys cluster in corners together, every once in a while darting out to approach a newcomer to the café. They do a rapid tap-tap-tap with their brushes against their boxes before pointing with the brush to the shoes, and then depending on whether they got a nod or a rebuff, they either get down to business of shining the shoes or they retreat. The waiters come out now and then to shoo them away but no one else seems to mind them. The occasional beggar stops, sometimes alone, or if blind, with a guide. Men and boys form a constant parade of selling everything: T-shirts, ladies' underwear, perfume, toys, pens, cigarettes, wallets (new), watches, pastries."
Reading this makes me wish I was going somewhere warm and sultry and exotic on vacation, too. I wonder if a book like this counts as a graphic novel? I tend not to pick up graphic novels on my own, but since this has been "thrust into my hands" so to speak, I'm only to happy to embark on the adventure. This is the beauty of books--the world is literally at your fingertips--you can go anywhere at a moment's notice and can even move around in time. Right now it's Tangier for me.