The Colo(u)r Out of Mind: On "A Trick of the Light"
And here we are, with newsletter number three. This one's about a short graphic novel I first learned about when I backed it on Kickstarter. Folk horror, a period setting, and bizarre light — not a combination I can easily pass up. I'll be back in two weeks.
There’s a lot to like about Aly Fell’s graphic novel A Trick of the Light, from Fell’s detailed artwork to the ways in which the book’s plot slowly immerses its central characters into a progressively more unsettling situation. The element of A Trick of the Light that most got my attention, though, is the way that this book uses color — especially when, from the first few pages, it isn’t apparent that it’ll be making any use of color whatsoever.
A Trick of the Light is set in early-1970s England. The narrative centers around Ruth and Cynthia, two teachers working at the same school who have been in a relationship for what seems like several years at the point the book opens. They’re very much in love; the opening page abounds with rapid-fire quips between the two as they make their way to work via an MG.
Ruth teaches art, while Cynthia’s area of expertise is literature; later in the book, she’ll quote a poem by Llewelyn Powys, who is mentioned at the end of the book, along with Quatermass creator Nigel Kneale. That might offer some sense of what to expect; Fell’s notes at the conclusion of this volume also suggest that the narrative was partially inspired by a dream. That, too, meshes neatly with what’s on display here. The cover promises “A STRANGE NEW TALE OF MYSTERY AND UNEASE” — an apt summation of what’s inside.
The plot centers around a group of standing stones located near the school where Ruth and Cynthia work. There’s a sense that these stones hearkens back to the region’s past; the ephemeral nature of that past is made clear from an early scene in which a nearby meadow is farmed for the first time. And the two women are drawn there, and it’s at this point that Fell deftly introduces color into the proceedings.
Fell’s art is still largely black and white, but an image of Ruth laying on the ground features something heretofore unseen in this narrative: a prismatic effect in her eye. I almost missed it the first time I read it. It’s not much of a spoiler to say that the stones begin to affect reality in a number of peculiar ways — it’s pretty much a given that standing stones are the folk horror equivalent of Chekhov’s gun in this respect. And Fell uses that same prismatic effect more and more, as Ruth begins to have strange visions and it becomes apparent to the reader that something odd is happening to the local reality.
It’s a subtle choice, and it’s only used in a handful of panels throughout the narrative. Fell’s visuals are strong throughout the book, and it’s not hard to imagine an entirely black and white version of this narrative that hits with a similar impact. But in this case, it’s that subtle effect that makes A Trick of the Light that much more ineffable — and that much more compelling. It's a short tale, but one that contains plenty of dread and wonder, making for a reading experience that's hard to shake.
One more quick note: my second novel came out this week. It's called Ex-Members and it's about a cult punk band in 1990s New Jersey and what follows in their wake. Available, as the saying goes, wherever books are sold.
As always, I'm Tobias Carroll, and this has been Postcards From Komiksoj.
This newsletter is free, but if you’re so inclined, I have a page at Ko-Fi where you can buy me a (metaphorical) cup of coffee. My novel In the Sight is available here, and details on upcoming readings can be found here.
If you're interested in buying any of the books reviewed in these pages, most of them can be ordered via Bookshop.