Passing for Human
A Graphic Memoir
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- ¥1,400
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- ¥1,400
発行者による作品情報
NEW YORK TIMES BOOK REVIEW EDITORS’ CHOICE • A visually arresting graphic memoir about a young artist struggling against what’s expected of her as a woman, and learning to accept her true self, from an acclaimed New Yorker cartoonist
A BEST BOOK OF THE YEAR: The Guardian, New York, Refinery29, Kirkus Reviews
In this stunning graphic memoir, Liana Finck goes in search of a thing she has lost—her shadow, as she calls the “strangeness” that has defined her since birth, the part of her that has always made her feel as though she is living in exile from the world. In Passing for Human, Finck is on a quest for self-understanding and self-acceptance, and along the way she seeks to answer some eternal questions: What makes us whole? What parts of ourselves do we hide, ignore, or chase away because they’re embarrassing, or inconvenient, or just plain weird—and at what cost?
Passing for Human is what Finck calls “a neurological coming-of-age story”—one in which human connection proved elusive and her most enduring relationships throughout childhood were with plants and rocks and imaginary friends; in which her mother’s creative life had been snuffed out by an unhappy first marriage and a deeply sexist society; in which her father, a doctor, secretly struggled with the guilt of having passed his own form of otherness on to his daughter; and in which, as an adult, Finck finally finds her shadow again—and, with it, her true self.
Part magical odyssey, part feminist creation myth, Passing for Human is an extraordinary, moving meditation on what it means to be an artist and a woman grappling with the desire to pass for human.
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
Alienation is both blessing and curse in this elegant graphic memoir of being the odd woman out. Leola's family has always been strange quiet, anxious, prone to dreaming. Though this propelled her parents into successful careers as an architect and a doctor, Leola wears her oddity like a ball and chain. She shies away from other children and finds herself exiled from classroom hierarchies. In metanarrative interludes, Leola even restarts the book itself, plagued with doubt over its quality. But as she discovers, being different doesn't just drive you away from others it can lead you to authenticity, as well. Finck intertwines her jittery, dense line work with fairy tale whimsy: sentient shadows climb in through windows, anxieties are literal rats that nibble at her as she works, God is a queen on a cloud who presides over an Edenic stage set. Though a lesser artist might have leaned on such magical realism as a crutch, Finck's whimsy acts as a microscope to better understand family, romance, and isolation. This story is as tender as it is wry, depicting, for instance, despair with goofy drawings of robots and princesses. Becoming human is a lifelong task but Finck illustrates it with humor and panache.)
