It’s tough to put into words just how special this book is, complimented and complicated by the fact that the pages themselves are completely silent. It is, however, very evident that the emotions, like the central character themself, are too big to be contained by mere language. giant's illustrator, Mollie Ray, does an excellent job of conveying all the sadness and turmoil that come with a cancer diagnosis. Or any major family health setback, for it isn’t until the end credits that we’re informed of exactly what we’ve been dealing with. In the back pages too though it should be pointed out first thing is that “this book was drawn in biro” (the British word for ‘ballpoint pen’). An impressive feat considering the loveliness of these black and white and heavily shaded pages.
The world we’re drawn into is one of rounded figures, pear-shaped or kidney bean-esque when they’re hunched over, reminiscent of Russian matryoshka dolls with tiny legs. It’s a close-knit family life as evidenced by the wall of photos on the first two pages and the book beginning proper with a large family dinner. During which an artist, one assumes our artist, returns to the family home having just graduated from school. Post-dinner activities of knitting, reading, painting, and games, one of which is building a house of cards. A motif that will resonate throughout, such a structure exemplifying the fragility of life. Here it is a foreshadowing of what is to come. But for these pre-change pages, the knocked over cards swirl around for panel after panel to the delight of the youngsters and annoyance of their elders, with the nice touch of an adrift spade pointing the way from page 6 to 7. Then it’s off to bed as normal, no one thinking differently, until the morning changes everything.
Overnight one of the children has grown enormous, can hardly fit in the room anymore large, which of course throws the family into confusion and sadness as they must begin the process of figuring out what’s wrong. Ray is a master at evoking how interminable things feel and the resultant anxiety caused by such huge uncertainties. An envelope travels through page after page as the family waits for test results. Multiple shots of an IV drip bag slowly emptying are intercut throughout this part of the story. Everything feels slowed down yet sped up at the same time, each member of the family feeling the devastating effect of someone they love going through this. On page 68 there is a most poignant panel of the mother’s grieving face reflected in the window of their washing machine. There’s also a beautiful scene of the artist shaving off all their hair in solidarity with their sibling.
Animal life, too, is integral to the family’s existence. The fish we see on the first page of Chapter One have their own journey, whilst local birds bring the family some unrelated good news. And the family cat is always there to provide comfort to the afflicted, even when said cat is boxed up against the wall after the patient collapses on the bathroom floor post-vomiting. And of course incidents like these, as well as their whole situation, are a source of great frustration to the patient himself, resulting in them going to see a talk therapist as well as his other doctors. Ray doesn’t shy away from a family member becoming irritated by all the stress, but on the whole, the family is incredibly supportive. The scattered house of cards is perpetually picked up again, literally and figuratively.
The artwork too is lovely. Understated, though when you stop to appreciate it, you realize how much care went into all that shading and composition. giant is deceptively detailed. The double-page spread of 156-157 is an anomaly populated by far more figures than usual, but given this is the hospital cafeteria, it is a wonderful, vital scene showing just how many others experience something like the family is going through. All the faces and postures show hard-hit folks resolutely doing their best in very trying times.
giant is a beautiful book not only for these illustrations but also for the life-affirming-ness and emotional spectrum of the story. A delight to read over and over as each successive time reveals more and more that Ray has packed into its pages.
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Hello, my name is Jack Sparrow. I'm a 50 year old self-employed Pirate from the Caribbean.
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