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DARC

@deviarc4-blog

Quiero retroceder y verte de nuevo, por última vez

-¿Por qué tan interesada en él? -Porque, es mejor que el chico de mis sueños, el es, real

“Really everyone is making up their own religion.”

An Interview with Graphic novelist Chester Brown

I first encountered Chester Brown’s starkly beautiful cartooning in a Canadian Literature class. His graphic novel, Louis Riel, had recently unearthed a piece of uncomfortable Canadian history—the execution of a 19th century political leader—and liberal arts professors across the country were collectively swooning over a comic book they could finally approve of. I too was impressed, if only for the book’s extensive “Notes” section—unusual for a genre where pictures usually replace most words. I argued with his notes in the margins. “Why exaggerate the linguistic divide?!” I scrawl-yelled nonsensically on one page.

Only a couple of years later, I found myself arguing with Chester in the margins of his next book, Paying For It, a graphic memoir about paying for sex, which this time included not only an extensive notes section, but a full-length manifesto for the decriminalization of sex work. By then I was an intern learning Photoshop at the publishing house Drawn & Quarterly, making sure the margins were properly aligned before the book went to print. “It’s not that I totally disagree with you,” I wrote in the back of an advanced copy, “I just think the argument is more complicated than you are making it out to be.” His writing can sometimes feel like he’s chosen to argue with you personally, after getting to know the contents of your brain.

Now, after my third time reading Chester, I’ve come to expect and appreciate the margin-arguing experience. It’s not every day that a book can engage its reader fully enough to keep her up all night considering her position on prostitution. This is what Chester does best, and what he continues to do best in his latest graphic novel, Mary Wept Over the Feet of Jesus: prodding and unearthing the uncomfortable, forcing you to engage, raising your blood pressure a touch. Mary Wept contains several graphic adaptations / interpretations of Bible stories that deal with prostitution in some way, and his major controversial claim is that Mary, the mother of Jesus, might actually have been a prostitute (hence, the mystically-explained pregnancy). I didn’t have as many margin-arguments with this book, but I definitely had some.

The thing is, in person and over the phone, Chester is not even remotely close to the man-behind-the-margins who I had imagined myself arguing with. He is actually the kindest, most non-confrontational cartoonist I’ve ever had the pleasure of speaking with.  It’s hard to believe he is the same man behind such strongly-articulated claims as: “we should all be paying for sex.” But this is part of his brilliance. When we spoke over the phone last month, I immediately forgot my margin arguments and instead just had a really pleasant, honest conversation about faith and biblical scholarship.

—Shannon Tien

THE BELIEVER: My background is “super lapsed Catholic”. I know my Bible stories a little bit.

CHESTER BROWN: Does that mean you went to church every Sunday? Or…

BLVR: Sometimes even during the week.

CB: Wow.

BLVR: I’m not practicing anymore, but the book brought back a lot of memories.

CB: I could never go all the way over to being completely an atheist. But I certainly went through my agnostic phase for a while.

BLVR: Could you tell me a little more about your own spiritual beliefs and background?

CB: Both of my parents were Baptist. We went to church every Sunday and I had to go to Sunday school and then when I was older, to the actual church services. At a certain point we changed churches. From about age seven or eight we started going to the local United Church of Canada, which, as opposed to the Baptists, is quite a liberal church. They ordain women now and have gay ministers.

In my teenage years I started to question everything. By my early twenties, I was living on my own. I was no longer going to church anymore, and wasn’t really sure what I believed about God or Christianity. And then I met a young woman and we fell in love. Early in the relationship she made it clear that she was a Christian. She asked me if I was also a Christian, and I said, “Oh yes. Of course I’m a Christian.” But despite growing up in the religion, I wasn’t really sure what that meant.

I found the whole topic of early Christianity and the creation of the Bible really interesting. I read a lot of books of that sort. And also, I was reading the Bible itself. But that was the thing that took me in the direction of being agnostic because biblical scholarship points out all the contradictions and all the reasons why the Bible can’t be the literal truth. I’ve gone in and out of calling myself an agnostic, or calling myself vaguely religious without having a name for what I am. These days I’m back to calling myself a Christian, even though I don’t believe that Jesus was divine.

Pienso, reflexiono, quiero hablar pero no lo hago, nadie acepta la sinceridad actualmente

¿Qué?

¿Qué es peor? Estar solo? O ¿sentir qué estás mejor solo? La segunda pueda que sea mejor, pero tanto daño para creer que estas mejor así, ¿tanto amas la soledad? O ¿Tanto odias a los demás?

Las estrellas comienzan a brillar siempre que veo tus ojos, son una constelación entera.