Broken Frontier

Night Fisher, by R. Kikuo Johnson.  Fantagraphics, 2005.

Night Fisher, the debut graphic novel of R. Kikuo Johnson, had received a wealth of accolades by July 2006, when Johnson was awarded the Russ Manning “Most Promising Newcomer” Award as part of the Eisner Awards ceremony in San Diego.   And the confident authorial voice Johnson exhibits in this memoir-like work suggests that wider recognition will not be long in coming.

The book takes its title from a nighttime scene beginning before the “opening credits,” as the protagonist, Loren Foster, sets up his fishing pole at the water’s edge.  And the more we learn about Loren, and his helpless struggles to adjust to the stark changes in his life, the more apt the metaphor becomes for a situation clouded in uncertainty, where everything worth knowing, and every goal worth pursuing, seems to lie beneath the surface.

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Loren is a recent transplant from the East Coast, and this “fish out of water” dramatic device provides two parallel sources of alienation, as Loren fails to connect with either the unfamiliar cultural environment or with his fellow high school students.  Through Loren’s distorted perspective, as brilliantly conveyed by Johnson, each of Loren’s peers, from the jocks to the burnouts to the unattainable girl of his dreams, is better adjusted than he, better prepared to face the unknown world following graduation.

A strong image throughout the book is that of the wild island grasses, which cannot be tamed and controlled despite the best efforts of Loren and his father.  And much as New Zealand is a major character in Dylan Horrocks’ Hicksville, Hawaii’s history and natural environment are gracefully eased into the narrative of Night Fisher.  This subtle geography lesson provides a thematic commentary on Loren’s inner conflicts, a tension echoed by the intersection of cultures and identities co-existing in the 50th state. 

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Johnson’s distinctive black and white art embraces qualities of many of the finest creators in the field today: the variable facial expressions and life-like detail of Jaime Hernandez (Locas); the bold, overpowering brushwork of Johnson’s former instructor, David Mazzuchelli (Rubber Blanket); the bleak noir spirit of David Lapham (Stray Bullets); and the clean, quiet angst of Adrian Tomine (Optic Nerve).

Like Lapham, Johnson portrays an exaggerated but convincing reality, while referencing the familiar tropes of classic comic strips, such as broad physical gestures and expressions, and even droplets of sweat to signify surprise (here cleverly adapted into a real world setting as Loren washes his face in a fountain).  And the heavy use of black on every page evokes the noir mastery of Lapham and of the more stylized work of Charles Burns, who covered similar dramatic territory, with a similar mood, in his horrific high school epic, Black Hole.

As in much of Tomine’s work, Johnson’s protagonist is presented as an existential cipher, from whose perspective we view the world, as if seen through a narrow lens.  The effect is magnified by the Loren’s enormous spectacles, which reduce his eyes, and sometimes his entire face, to two empty circles peering dispassionately out into a shadowy world.  The frequent and often lengthy sequences of silent panels demonstrate Johnson’s mastery of sequential action, while also evoking the protagonist’s passive spectatorship of the events unfolding around him.

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Fortunately, the self-doubt that plagues his protagonist is nowhere evident in Johnson’s own assured performance.  In the end, Johnson pulls off the complex trick of presenting a compelling coming of age novel while capturing the specific details of an autobiography, deftly overlaying a structured plot over a setting and series of incidents clearly drawn from life experience.