Little Nemo in Slumberland, by Winsor McCay

Little Nemo is perplexing to me, as it seems odd that a story that's guaranteed to end the same way every week could be so appealing, especially when that ending is "and then he woke up". Then again, I suppose that's part of the charm. The knowledge that "it's only a dream", that there's no danger and everything will be alright in the morning, lets the stories always remain lighthearted and fun, and allows us the readers to indulge ourselves in the gorgeous, fanciful and varied worlds that McCay presents us with. The simple and open-ended premise cleverly allows McCay to present us with a brand new spectacle every week.

The comic is absolutely beautiful. The art holds up even by today's standards, but put next to contemporary comics such as Krazy Kat or The Yellow Kid, there's no comparison. McCay's work is intricate and detailed, while at the same time retaining the simple forms and expressiveness of cartoons. The coloring makes the absolute most of the printing format, and is capable of being both subtle and extravagant as the situation calls for. The result of these combined elements is something that can only be described, quite appropriately, as dreamlike. Reading Little Nemo, it's clear to see the influence it has had on other artist's interpretations of Dream Worlds, from Maurice Sendak's In the Night Kitchen to Neil Gaiman's Sandman.

There is clearly something more going on here than an amusing diversion. Many of the strips have Nemo waking up just before some anticipated event. Often the whole strip will be about Nemo just trying to get to Slumberland (which begs the question: where exactly is he before he gets there?), only to wake up before he can make it there. This repeated motif captures something of the profound mystery and allure of dreams. All of us have at one time or another suffered the frustration of waking up from a dream too soon, had the last images fading away as we struggle to hold onto them, left with the aching feeling that some great secret was waiting just beyond our reach.

One of my favorite devices McCay uses to achieve this effect is the use of a tiered or staircase-like panel layout, with the panels getting progressively taller and then smaller as you move across and down the page. Although used scarcely, maybe so as not to diminish the impact it has, it creates a lovely visual effect that evokes the feeling of falling deeper and deeper into the world, as one falls deeper and deeper into sleep, and then having our vision of the world get narrower and narrower as we slowly start to wake up. Even when not using this tiered layout, McCay seems to have a fondness for tall, narrow panels, which creates this sense of gravity across the whole page, and also makes reading these comics on a computer screen a poor substitute for the real thing.