Monday, June 4, 2012
There are few words to describe David B.'s graphic novel Epileptic, which is, I guess, apt for a graphic novel. Terrifying, brutal, poignant, and dark are a few. I've had the book for many years and only take it down off the shelf every now and then. I did so last night and sat outside on my back stoop as the sun went down through the palms and some godforsaken crows screamed in the distance. While not godforsaken, I felt depleted and diminished by Sophie's seizures, the one in the morning and the three at the ballpark and the one at dinner. The seventeen years of them, like clockwork, imposing a rhythm on our lives.
Like the characters in Epileptic, our family seems to be trudging, still, not begrudging, still, up a dark mountain, following Sophie as she makes her arduous way.
***Click on the photos to read clearly.