Unknown: The Storytelling of Fun Home via McCloud

Alison Bechdel’s graphic novel Fun Home uses many of the base concepts from Scott McCloud’s Understanding Comics to create a storytelling engine that imparts deeper meaning through its expression of emotion, use of iconography, and interplay between text and image. On pages 1, 15, 16, 17, and 18 of Fun Home, this engine is geared specifically towards the characterization of Bechdel’s father and his influence over and modulation of the family dynamic. Additionally, through the use of a unique point of view and a recurring theme of contrast, certain characteristics of both the father and family as a whole are expressed in an especially impactful way: we as readers are let into the world of mystique and unsolved puzzles that Bechdel has come to associate with her past.


Image from Fun Home page 18.

A very visible example of the effect of Bechdel’s father on the family dynamic can be found by analyzing emotional expression and how line is used to achieve it. Looking at the faces on pages 15 - 18 (and throughout the book), emotional expression does not immediately make itself obvious. On page 18, Bechdel’s mother looks a little nervous, but in most other cases between pages 15 - 18, the characters’ iconographic faces and small mouths impede higher levels of expression. However, this is actually the point. McCloud poses the question, “Don’t all lines carry with them an expressive potential?” (McCloud 124). The hypothetical answer is “yes,” and Fun Home supports this theory; the faces of the characters on pages 15 - 18 aren’t emotionless; their lines are just portraying undramatic emotions like restraint, hesitancy, and boredom. Where many comics might go out of their way to display highly expressive emotions, Bechdel is instead going out of her way to convey a lack thereof, and the characters’ minimalized facial features are perfect for achieving this effect. Bechdel goes against our expectations of easily readable emotions to lend the entire work a suppressed mood that mirrors her family situation; in fact, on page 19, Bechdel explicitly narrates, “We were not a physically expressive family, to say the least” (Bechdel 19). In other words, Bechdel recognizes that her family’s lack of openness was unusual, and she actively works to bring this out in her caricature of her family. As a secondary effect, the reader may also be unsettled by the portrayal of so much less emotion than they're used to seeing in this medium. Thus, the family becomes associated with a contrast between expected and provided that almost allows the reader to feel the tension lurking underneath the surfaces of the characters’ simple—yet somehow inscrutable—features.

Iconography also plays a major role in the narrative of Fun Home. A prominent example of this exists on page 18. This page contains several drawings of characters’ faces close up; of the five humans in Bechdel’s family, four are featured in this manner, with a profile drawing of the fifth (Bechdel’s youngest brother) also present. However, despite the reader’s proximity to the faces, a remarkably small amount of detail is shown; besides eyes, all of the features of the face have been reduced to single lines. According to McCloud, the reason for this is relatively straightforward: “When you enter the world of the cartoon[,] you see yourself” (McCloud 36). In other words, due to our human tendency to see faces in everything, we can not only easily recognize faces in Bechdel’s simplified drawings, but we can go a step further to see ourselves specifically in them; “we don’t just observe the cartoon, we become it” (McCloud 36). 

Image from Fun Home page 15.

To understand why Bechdel wants this effect, we must take a step outwards to inspect the background. Due to the emphasis on faces on page 18, the background is rather sparse. However, if we look at the preceding three pages, 15 - 17, we might observe that though the faces are rendered in no more detail than they are on page 18, the backgrounds are far more lush and elaborate. The wood of the desk at which Bechdel sits on page 15 has a detailed grain. The iron latticework of the chair she cleans on the same page has more nuance than her own face. This combination of iconically drawn characters and detailed backgrounds is called “clear-line” style (McCloud 42). As stated by McCloud, the reason for this phenomenon is “to allow readers to mask themselves in a character and safely enter a sensually stimulating world” (McCloud 43). So, we’re supposed to see a very ornate, complex, and unapproachable world through one specific, subjective point of view: Bechdel’s. A ruthlessly ordered world like Bechdel’s home makes even less sense to a child than it might to an adult. This is demonstrated by Bechdel’s page 15; her protests in the bottom-left panel show that she couldn't discern the logic behind her father’s sense of order at the time, but her accurate depiction of his preferences throughout the page indicates that she understands more about them as an adult, even if she still may not agree with them. So that’s what our ability to enter into scenes through Bechdel’s eyes really does for us: it allows us to see this foreign world and its master more subjectively, as Bechdel (or any child) might, instead of how we as readers may be inclined to. To fully understand the mystique that Bechdel sees surrounding her father and his methods of artifice, we must learn to see him as she did, using her character as a lens.


Image from Fun Home page 1.

The effects of iconography don’t end here, though. While iconography affords us subjectivity and an almost first-person viewpoint throughout most of the novel, there are a few notable places where it does not. Such exceptions include page one and the other chapter introduction pages. These pages contain only a chapter number, title, and single photorealistic image. This photorealistic style appears nowhere in the mainstream story, only as a preface to each of the six sections. To keep with the idea that the iconographic style represents subjectivity, we might logically conclude that the photorealistic style represents objectivity. This ties back to the idea that Bechdel uses contrast to give us a specific view of her family and father; here, we see objective truths about her father interact with her own subjectivity. To understand why Bechdel chooses to provide this contrast, we might consider that “through traditional realism, the comics artist can portray the world without[,] and through the cartoon, the world within” (McCloud 41). 

In other words, the dueling subjectivity and objectivity symbolize Bechdel’s attempts to fully understand her father’s mysterious existence by reconciling her internal thoughts and memories with the external remnants of his life. She mentions that she has relatively few artifacts of his life on multiple occasions. She also tells us that some of her most notable mementos of him are photos. Furthermore, she states that at least one of the photorealistic images in Fun Home is based off of an actual picture. Whether or not the others are doesn’t really matter; the point is that she has very little external, objective, “world without”-type memorabilia with which to solve a very cryptic puzzle. Thus, a lot of her work is done internally, in her subjective, “world within” memory. The structure of Fun Home itself seems to mirror this; she starts each section off with a small piece of objective truth, represented by a photorealistic image framed as a photograph, and then tries to explain it (or solve its part of the bigger mystery) by reflecting upon it with the body of the chapter, a combination of narrative and iconographic representations. Thus, each introductory image represents a memory or idea now lost to the realm of subjectivity, and the abundance of such images clearly shows the reader just how much of Bechdel’s narrative is merely an interpretation of a story whose full nuance may never come to light.


Image from Fun Home pages 16 & 17.

Another of the core mechanisms of Bechdel’s narrative can perhaps best be understood by looking specifically at how text and image relate to and support each other. McCloud covers numerous models of such relationships, many of which appear at some point or another in Fun Home. However, if I were to select a key model to interpret how this text combines pictures and words, I'd choose that which McCloud terms “interdependent, where words and pictures go hand in hand to convey an idea that neither could convey alone” (McCloud 155). Pages 16 and 17 of Fun Home offer a strong supporting example, albeit one that may not be recognized at first glance. The images on these two pages could be construed as telling a sort of mini-story, showing the family cleaning the house, getting ready, going to church, returning, and finally relaxing. Meanwhile, the text analyzes Bechdel’s family situation, discussing how “it’s tempting to suggest, in retrospect, that our family was a sham” (Bechdel 17). 

The way that these words and pictures operate in almost perfect opposition to each other is itself evidence of their interdependence. Where the text suggests a very odd scenario, one in which the family is essentially an artificial construct, the images suggest a quintessentially normal situation, one in which the family seems to be almost boringly average. Though each could tell its story independently, juxtaposing them creates a very specific effect that neither are capable of producing alone. This effect is best captured by some text from page 16: “[Bechdel’s father] used his skillful artifice not to make things, but to make things appear to be what they were not” (Bechdel 16). So, the images on this spread show the fruits of the father’s artifice; they are depictions of a picture-perfect family that seems almost too normal. However, the text betrays this glossy exterior, revealing both the true situation and the father’s efforts to hide it. This creates a very startling “things are not what they appear” effect that couldn’t be captured by either medium alone. Without the text, we would be unaware of the tension below the ordinary exterior. Without the image, we would be deprived of any illusion of normalcy.  This would spare us the emotional impact hardwired into the realization that what appears to be a normal situation is, in fact, our own sight deceiving us.

The cooperation between text and image creates other effects here as well; as McCloud puts it, “the more is said with words, the more the pictures can be freed to go exploring and vice versa” (McCloud 155). On pages 16 and 17, the text is doing more of the work; it tells us everything that we really need to know. While both the text and the image are necessary for the “false shroud of normalcy” dissonance effect discussed above, the fact that such an effect exists at all is evidence that the pictures have “gone exploring,” trading the ability to contribute directly to the narrative for the chance to help demonstrate the effects of Bechdel’s father’s artifice in this unique way. While they’re out and about, the pictures also generate some secondary constructs. Irony is an obvious example; to drop the line, “But would an ideal husband and father have sex with teenage boys?” (Bechdel 17) in an unexpected context, Bechdel could really have picked any “normal family situation.” She selected a Catholic Mass. Looking at that panel, we can see that everything about this setup is optimized for maximum drama. If the first explicit mention that Bechdel's father is gay isn't surprising enough on its own, it happens in an environment known for its heteronormative attitudes, and it's set off from the rest of the text by a white caption box. All of this is done to mirror Bechdel’s own shock at her father’s coming out. Later in the novel, she discusses her surprise in words a few times, but this initial revelation is her only chance to make us feel the full impact with which the news hit her. So, she sets it up by picking elements that will make it more shocking to us, instead of trying to replicate the exact conditions under which she learned the secret; she saves this for later, when she comes to the revelation’s place in Fun Home’s overarching narrative. 

When all of these examples are brought together into a more comprehensive analysis, several trends make themselves clear. The first is that the selected pages heavily emphasize the characterization of both the father and his artifice. All three of the examples I discussed here show different consequences of the father’s actions, home organization, and familial domination. From the emotion lens, we see how his lack of openness created a dynamic in which the family was not comfortable sharing out, or even expressing emotion. From the iconography lens, we see how his artifice came to dominate his household, taking on a life of its own, one that feels richer and more detailed than that of any character save the father himself. From the text-image interactivity lens, the father’s artifice itself is examined; we see how it creates a second layer that morphs reality into something seemingly more “normal” and “easily understood”; but in truth, this is all merely a façade that Bechdel must now dissect and come to grips with.

The mechanisms by which these effects are rendered also remain consistent across multiple concepts and lenses, and reveal a lot about how the book operates as a whole. One common mechanism is Bechdel’s tendency to put readers into her shoes, encouraging them to see events from her point of view. This is a fundamental part of iconography; she literally draws her character to be used as an entrance point into her home and family, so that we can see what effect they might have had on her. This in turn feeds our perception of her father, the creator of this environment. The relationship between text & image also encourages us to look at the world of Fun Home through Bechdel's eyes. The contrast Bechdel creates between the images’ false normalcy and the text’s truth is designed to show us her thoughts on her family’s workings, or at least what stood out to her the most about them. In other words, this is the fallout from what the iconography shows: her father and his environment caused Bechdel’s perception; without him, there would probably not have been a second layer. This becomes very important when one considers just how large an impact a figure like this father has on a family, something Bechdel seems keen on exploring in her narrative.

Another common mechanism is the creation of dissonance and contrast (often contrast with the expected). This spans all three of the analyzed concepts, and plays off of the normalcy motif, almost as if Bechdel is trying to portray her family as essentially normal just to emphasize the specific places where such an analogy falls through. The relationship between text and image embodies this idea; perceiving Bechdel’s family as "normal" would be logical if it weren’t for a few key details that tip us off, a little at a time, that something more is going on. This creates a gradual buildup of tension before the revelation of the secret of her father’s sexuality on page 17. This revelation brings fully to light the contrast between the images’ portrayal of what is expected of a family and the text’s portrayal of what Bechdel’s family actually is. In other words, the normal versus unusual (or artificed versus actual) contrast supplied by text and image emphasizes the magnitude and strangeness of the puzzle to be solved. Even the ironies tip us off that something is very unusual about this situation; after all, irony, artifice, and subjectivity aren't usually the first concepts to be considered when characterizing a normal family. A similar contrast with the expected exists in the realm of emotion. Both the seeming lack of expressiveness and the actual restraint of the characters grate with the average reader’s expectation that a family is cohesive and self-involved. Meanwhile, the dissonance in iconography comes not from contrast with the expected, but rather from contrast between subjectivity, exemplified by Bechdel’s formulated thoughts about her father, and objectivity, exemplified by the remaining evidence and artifacts from his life. Once again, this points to a larger puzzle, demonstrating the considerable amount of ambiguity and shades of gray we must contend with as we try to piece together the true narrative of Bechdel’s and her father’s lives.

Bechdel’s unique point of view, which complements the medium of comics well, is one of two major “draws,” or techniques that make the reader engage with the story. The other is contrast, which piques interest by allowing readers to pit themselves against the same puzzles that Bechdel faces. Together, these two are used to characterize Bechdel’s family, especially her father, in a uniquely involved and detailed way; instead of adjectives, we are given an almost cause-and-effect characterization, a caricature that tells us more about what the father wrought than who he was. This approach as a whole contributes greatly to the air of mystery surrounding the situation; without more concrete information, we are left, like Bechdel, to piece together as much as possible of that which is simply unknown.

——— 

Bechdel, Alison. Fun Home: A Family Tragicomic. Houghton Mifflin, 2015.

McCloud, Scott. Understanding Comics. Harper Perennial, 2010.

——— 

I wrote this piece in FILM 356: Text & Image @ UW-Whitewater.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Tear My Life Apart: Truth Through Queerness in The Handmaiden

Ooops