Fun Home, by Alison Bechdel

I'd just like to start by saying that I think drawing yourself masturbating must be a really weird experience. This is the second comic I've written about for this blog where the author has done that. (the first being *Blankets*)

Anyway, I'd previously been aware of the name Alison Bechdel in reference to the Bechdel Test, but this was my first experience actually reading any of her work. In preparation for reading this, I also read some Dykes to Watch Out For, since that seems to be the thing she is best known for, and that honestly did not get my hopes up for Fun Home. It just seems to me that the conceit of having a bunch of lesbians with nothing better to do than sit around talking about being lesbians is not particularly compelling. Nor does it seem to really send a message of "Gays are People too" when it's apparently impossible to be gay without also being a radical political activist. Or maybe I just can't relate to the struggles of the Pre-2000-Era gay community.

Homosexuality is a major theme in Fun Home as well, but treats it as just one aspect of its title characters, rather than the singular defining trait. The fact that Alison and her father are gay is not 'meaningful' in its own right, but in the ways in which it affects their interpersonal relationships. And this gets at the heart of what makes Fun Home such a powerful read: It's such a deeply personal story, and told by Bechdel in such a relatable way, that I feel like I really know these characters.

I'm starting to think that comics are a particularly effective medium for autobiography. I'm not entirely sure why. Maybe it's because the visual medium allows us a more intimate view of the author's perspective through their drawings; but, unlike with film and animation, which usually take several people working together to produce, the individuality of the story is not lost in the process of creation.

That said, there are some stylistic elements in Fun Home that I can't help but be puzzled at. Bechdel possesses a Brobdingnagian propensity for baroque vocabulary, which sporadically obfuscates the otherwise candorous nature of her intended message. It reminds me of Scott McCloud's parable of the writer and artist, who keep working at mastering their individual craft until they find themselves on opposite ends of a creative gulf, and end up having to work their way back towards each other. The constant literary references can be similarly daunting. I enjoy a good analogy as much as the next guy, but when Bechdel starts comparing her own life to three different classic works in the same chapter, it can get a bit hard to keep up.

One of the more interesting aspects of the book is the nonlinear approach it takes to telling the story. Events are not told in chronological order; rather, each chapter tells a new story that adds up to the greater whole, like adding pieces to a puzzle one by one until you can finally see the bigger picture. A chapter may cover several years, or just one weekend. It strikes me as a clever way to approach an autobiographical story, as our own lives are rarely as neat and tidy as a typical work of fiction.