Broken Frontier

I’ve always been able to admire and respect someone with strong, well-articulated opinions. The thing about opinions though, s that they are the products of human beings and as such, are seldom as strong or well-articulated as their owners believe. We all love to be right, sometimes to a fault and often we sabotage the potency of our ideas with self-righteous indignation and closed-mindedness.

I’m hesitant to label Bosch Fawstin either of those things but I will say this about his latest online graphic novel, The Infidel: it is opinionated and well-articulated but not nearly as balanced a treatment of Islam as the creator would have you believe. In fact, I would suggest that The Infidel is less a story attempting to explore the impact extremist religions have on family and more a cleverly designed example of the very propaganda Fawstin claims to be fighting with his work.

I guess that would make The Infidel counter-propaganda but who’s counting? This is supposed to be a review of a comic book. But you see, that’s the problem. Try as I might, I couldn’t find a way to separate Fawstin’s political opinions from his story. Professional critics might chalk that up to my immaturity as a reviewer or simple ignorance but no matter how brilliant Fawstin is as a storyteller, his technique is overshadowed by his political zeal.

On the surface, The Infidel sounds like an attempt to tell a balanced story about the repercussions organized religion and extremist views have on family. Chronicling the story of estranged twin brothers who find themselves on the opposite side of the Qu’ran, The Infidel would seem poised to present both sides of the coin equally. Fawstin uses a clever device of a comic-within-a-comic to provide emotional and intellectual insight into the motivations of his protagonists. Technically, his use of this device is remarkable, as he slides between worlds with ease and grace. However, its potency becomes diluted once you realize that every depiction of Muslims in both worlds is charged with negativity and a distinct immature pettiness.

Muslims in this book are by turns boorish cutthroat sidewalk evangelists, simpering, weak-willed sidekicks, corrupt, ancient imams intent on global domination, or suave enforcers surrounded by brutish thugs. Even protagonist Killian Duke, himself a former Muslim, resorts to bullying and violence to draw attention to his controversial comic book character Pigman. There are even a couple of petty references to Muslims’ abstinence from pork (apart from Fawstin’s porcine superhero) that seem designed to incite anger and offense.

Lacking balance but overflowing with belligerent swagger and clever storytelling tricks, The Infidel was a disappointing read from a past Eisner nominee. Somehow, despite Fawstin’s closeness to the subject matter, I was expecting a story that at least alluded to the many shades of grey permeating any discussion of religion and politics. What I received instead was a disappointing, if not disturbing, opening salvo in a petty game of name-calling.