Grass
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- ¥1,700
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- ¥1,700
発行者による作品情報
Appeared on best of the year lists from The New York Times, The Guardian, and more! Winner of The Cartoonist Studio Prize for Best Print Comic of the Year!
Grass is a powerful antiwar graphic novel, telling the life story of a Korean girl named Okseon Lee who was forced into sexual slavery for the Japanese Imperial Army during the Second World War—a disputed chapter in twentieth-century Asian history.
Beginning in Lee’s childhood, Grass shows the lead-up to the war from a child’s vulnerable perspective, detailing how one person experienced the Japanese occupation and the widespread suffering it entailed for ordinary Koreans. Keum Suk Gendry-Kim emphasizes Lee’s strength in overcoming the many forms of adversity she experienced. Grass is painted in a black ink that flows with lavish details of the beautiful fields and farmland of Korea and uses heavy brushwork on the somber interiors of Lee’s memories.
The cartoonist Gendry-Kim’s interviews with Lee become an integral part of Grass, forming the heart and architecture of this powerful nonfiction graphic novel and offering a holistic view of how Lee’s wartime suffering changed her. Grass is a landmark graphic novel that makes personal the desperate cost of war and the importance of peace.
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
In telling the difficult, moving story of Korean former "comfort woman" Granny Lee Ok-sun, Gendry-Kim faces a philosophical question as well as an artistic one: what can be redeemed in a life defined largely by cruelty? In swift black brushstrokes that feel both contemporary and, in key wordless pauses, classical, Gendry-Kim follows Ok-sun's narration of her life (based on interviews) with minimal editorializing. Ok-sun depicted as a wrinkly old woman in the present day and a round-faced, triangle-nosed girl in her youth is sold twice as a child into domestic work (though promised she was going to school) in poverty-stricken, occupied Korea before Japanese forces kidnap her. At the Chinese outpost where Japanese soldiers rape her regularly, there is no "comfort," just a dirty work camp where her visitors, up to forty a day, are "all the same." When Ok-sun describes her first rape, Gendry-Kim draws six black panels with Ok-sun's terrified face bursting out of the frame. After the war, Ok-sun finds relative peace, but it's clear that politicians lack the power and will to enact true healing. The best anyone can hope for, Gendry-Kim seems to conclude, is to say, collectively, "This happened." Despite occasional moments of disjointed plotting, Gendry-Kim tells Ok-sun's powerful story with grace, artfulness, and humility; it deserves witness.
