In Search of the Twenty-First Century's "Great American Graphic War Novel"

Abstract

In Search of the Twenty-First Century's "Great American Graphic War Novel" Randy Brown (bio) Despite more than two decades of armed conflict, concurrent with what is arguably a new golden age of comics—the latter driven as much by developments in crowdfunding, digital publishing and platforms, and multibillion-dollar movie blockbusters as by hard-copy retail sales of monthly periodicals—there seem to be precious few examples of long-form sequential art about America's Global War on Terror (GWOT). Still, if you know where to dig, there are some dazzling treasures to be discovered. Three potential "Great American Graphic War Novels" triangulate and illuminate the nuances, frustrations, and outcomes of twenty-first-century wars as seen through American goggles. Two of these are written and illustrated by a single creator: Maximilian Uriarte, a former US Marine and creator of the satirical three-panel, black-and-white web comic Terminal Lance. With grunt's-eye views and truth-bomb satires of modern military culture, Uriarte's pithy and poignant work compares favorably to that of World War II soldier-artist Bill Mauldin, creator of the iconic "Willie and Joe" characters once published in Stars and Stripes. In his 2016 coming-of-age-in-the-Marines graphic novel The White Donkey, Uriarte moves beyond slapstick and dick jokes while using characters and line art similar to those of his original Terminal Lance strips. To these he adds a practice of using minimalist, watercolor-like palettes to change scenes and moods among pages—a discipline he skillfully and dramatically breaks with occasional splashes of spot-color: an American flag, an energy drink, a puddle of once-human goo. The book's title involves a roadside encounter with a white donkey—an animal notably defined by an absence of pigmented color—a quasi-magical image that comes to represent a recurring question: What are you looking for? The narrative follows two buddies, Abe Belatzeko and Jesus Garcia, from boot camp to Iraq and back again. Between scenes of bawdy humor and barracks life, Uriarte gives equal attentions to more-serious topics: "thank you for your service" alienations from friends and family, alcohol abuse, post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), and veteran suicide. [End Page 53] At a security post downrange in Iraq, Abe is berated by an American-educated Iraqi police officer. He accuses the young Marines of arrogance. "This is not a journey for me," the officer says. "I have met many people like you over the last few years, coming here to fulfill some personal conquest, but you never stop to think how arrogant you are. You seek some enlightenment at the expense of my people. You do not care about Iraq. You do not care about my people." Published in 2020, Uriarte's graphic novel Battle Born: Lapis Lazuli navigates philosophical minefields similar to those of The White Donkey but features wildly different characters, settings, and colors. A squad of US Marines deploys to the northeasternmost frontier of Afghanistan and wrestles with its mission to drive a wedge between Afghan villagers, who are dependent on mining and trade in semi-precious blue gemstones, and their would-be Taliban oppressors. Instead of minimalist and monochromatic pages, Uriarte's unguttered panels are now saturated with bold and sumptuous colors. These he deploys to great effect in hues and tints, particularly in his depictions of mountain sunrises, shadows, and even snowstorms. More than once, Uriarte deliberately slows the action down to a series of widescreen, single-panel "splash" pages, encouraging readers to slowly and deliberately engage the views. Page turn, after page turn. The book takes its title from the motto of the state of Nevada, the home turf of Uriarte's main protagonist. Sgt. "Battle Born" King (no first names are given) is a Black kid who grew up in a white foster family in Reno. King becomes a hulking, brooding warrior of great physical strength and few words. In an afterword, the author mentions that it was his intention to model the character on R. E. Howard's Conan the Barbarian, a stoic sword-and-sorcery character from 1930s pulp fiction. Conan continues to be present in various popular media...