163 Paul’s Favorites of 2010: Daytripper

Daytripper | Fabio Moon, Gábriel Bá et al | Vertigo

 

In my very first semester as a journalism student much of our focus was on working through the fundamentals of what makes a good journalist. We went through all kinds of drills: crime drills, courtroom drills, drills to help us make sense of statistics, drills that focused on education or politics. One of the drills that I really took to was the obituary drill. On the surface it seemed a little morbid– we were given a certain public figure, and told to write an obituary about this person, complete with fake quotes from real life people– but it ended up being really interesting. Good obituary writing is an art form: you have to hone in on that one element of a person’s life that was unique or interesting, something that defined that them, and you have to look at their life through the lens of that element.

A good obituary is powerful. It’s the last word on someone’s life. A great obit writer can make a tremendous career for himself, and the job of the obit writer involves a flourish of creativity that you don’t see in a lot of other reporting positions. I often turn to the obit section of the New York Times website just to see some of the worlds’ interesting stories and moments we often miss.

Daytripper focuses on those moments that make up the measure of a man’s life.

(The following piece contains plot points and story elements of the story Daytrippers.)

In Daytripper, the brothers Bá and Moon tell the story of Brás de Oliva Domingos, an obituary writer and aspiring novelist in the shadow of his famous writer father. It also tells the story of his wife, son and best friend, all crucial players in Brás’ story. The importance of these people can not be overstated, because throughout the ten-issue miniseries the interactions he has with them shape the outcome of his life in fundamental ways.

In the beginning of the first issue we’re shown a shocking scene: our protagonist, or the man we’d come to see as our protagonist, standing in a bar covered in blood, the bartender laying dead on the floor. The story immediately jumps back to earlier events, showing how we got to that moment. As the story progresses we come to know Brás better and we wonder how he got into that position– and how he’ll get out of it.

He doesn’t. Brás is shot by the same man who killed the bartender, dead at the age of 32. A wonderful, poetic obituary accompanies his death on the final page of the comic.

In issue two we meet Brás again, this time 11 years younger. Ah, we think. They’re telling the story backwards. Here, a 21-year-old Brás is on vacation in Rio Vermelho. He meets a beautiful woman. He becomes infatuated. And on the last page, he dies again. Drowning this time, accompanied by another obituary. Issue after issue, he doesn’t make it out alive.

This is the formula of Daytripper. It jumps around to different moments of Brás’ life, explaining how these moments were important to him via his obituary. Each moment exotic while at the same time familiar, each death original and sad, each obituary beautiful and life-affirming. Each tale driving you from anxious, to sad, to oddly happy. Even after a few issues, when you aren’t sure what the sum of the story will add up to, there’s a content feeling in just the small chapters of Brás’ life you’re getting a peak at. It puts into perspective our own moments in life: what would your obituary say if you died today? What about five years ago? What do you want it to say five years from now? Life is fleeting, the artists suggest, and every moment is important. Making the most of it is not only suggested, but essential.

Daytripper is poetry, and not just its prose– the book is visually stunning. Bá and Moon have been on my radar since picking up Casanova a few years back, and I’ve been trying to consume as much as I could from them since. I don’t know their work well enough to know which artist worked on what sections of the book– their styles are extremely similar, and it seems like only Gábriel signed his pages– but no matter who worked where, the two nail such subtlety as expression, physical traits and  movement with great aplomb. Clothing, of all things, is really spot on. So many artists have no concept of modern fashion, but Bá and Moon make the people in the story dress how real people dress.

The layouts are crisp, no wasted space. Sound effects are endearingly integrated into the scene. They concentrate on the most important aspects of what they’re drawing and sort of whimsically sketch through the rest, showcasing a confidence that comes with expertise in one’s craft. Overall, the two artists are just made for the medium. Arguably my favorite page out of all ten issues contains no people at all. It’s a scene directly after learning about one of Brás’ many deaths:

(click to enlarge)

Empty space. The words in the last three panels are coming from Brás’ young son, who is reading the final letter his father has ever written him. This is the eighth issue, the eighth time we learn of Brás’ demise, but through words and pictures the two brothers make it feel like the first. In fact, the entire focus of issue eight is on his immediate family. Our protagonist manages to have an emotional impact on a comic in which he doesn’t even make an appearance.

The collected edition of this series will definitely be worth picking up if Vertigo decides to print it on better paper. As is the case with most Vertigo books, Daytripper got the newsprint treatment, which is a shame, because Dave Stewart’s colors really help make the book come alive. But it all works toward the same goal: words and pictures. Words and pictures. It’s essential if you want to make great comics, and this is great comics. And just like the best obituaries, Daytripper tells a powerful, memorable story.

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