by Cecil Castellucci
art by Jim Rugg
2007
The Plain Janes is a young-adult graphic novel aimed, I think, at kids growing up in the aftermath of 9/11, in the pervasive fear and parental over-protection of that time.
Jane is a high school freshman whose family has just moved to the suburbs in the aftermath of a bombing in the city. I say I think this is a 9/11 analogy because it's an American comic released in the 2000s, but the details are vague enough that you could see parallels in any number of terror attacks. Jane was close to the site of the bombing, and while she was in the hospital, she started a one-sided relationship with a John Doe coma patient who was next to her when she woke up. Throughout the book, Jane's internal monologue takes the forms of letters she writes to this unconscious young man.
In the city, Jane had long blonde hair and popular friends. But after the attack, she gave herself a pixie cut and dyed it black, and at her new school, she rejects the advances of a popular girl who's much like her former self, and tries to befriend three outcast girls who sit apart, together, and eat their lunches in silence. They're all named Jane. Several attempts to befriend them fail, including trying out for Science Club, the school play, and the soccer team in the hope of winning over nerd Jane, theater Jane, and jock Jane.
Then Jane (art Jane?) gets an idea to do a guerilla public art installation on an empty construction lot. Rather than trying to join the others, she recruits them, getting them interested and excited in her new project. The secretly form PLAIN, People Loving Art in Neighborhoods, and take on more projects, all whimsical public displays. The police overreact, calling these "art attacks" and declaring a public curfew. Jane's traumatized mom also panics and grows more possessive.
Jane gets a crush on a cute guy who is also a loner and outsider at school. The other Janes all find themselves becoming more confident. And PLAIN, despite its general secrecy, gets at least one surprise recruit. An interesting turning point comes when PLAIN starts advertising participatory events, for example, asking everyone to sing at a specific date and time. The town's teens, bristling under all the new restrictions and collective punishments the school and police have been handing down, are happy to join in. What started as a playful solo art show becomes a collective resistance to unjust authority.
I think, somehow, this year I've been enjoying a multimedia subgenre of coming-of-age stories about girls forming or joining clubs. This and Loveless and This is How We Fly and Six Angry Girls, but also the movie Whip It, and anime like Laid Back Camp and Do It Yourself and Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken. Mostly by accident, I've found a series of stories that would've been excellent advice to my younger self, (and that still resonate with me today as I increasingly try to return to the world after the Covid lockdown) - go out, find friends, do things together.
I hope there are comparable stories addressing boys and young men, because if anything, they are even more lost and lonely than their femme and enby peers, and the hateful rightwing radicalization offered by the online Manosphere should not be the only voice showing them a path to camaraderie, companionship, and a cure for being alone.
Jane is a high school freshman whose family has just moved to the suburbs in the aftermath of a bombing in the city. I say I think this is a 9/11 analogy because it's an American comic released in the 2000s, but the details are vague enough that you could see parallels in any number of terror attacks. Jane was close to the site of the bombing, and while she was in the hospital, she started a one-sided relationship with a John Doe coma patient who was next to her when she woke up. Throughout the book, Jane's internal monologue takes the forms of letters she writes to this unconscious young man.
In the city, Jane had long blonde hair and popular friends. But after the attack, she gave herself a pixie cut and dyed it black, and at her new school, she rejects the advances of a popular girl who's much like her former self, and tries to befriend three outcast girls who sit apart, together, and eat their lunches in silence. They're all named Jane. Several attempts to befriend them fail, including trying out for Science Club, the school play, and the soccer team in the hope of winning over nerd Jane, theater Jane, and jock Jane.
Then Jane (art Jane?) gets an idea to do a guerilla public art installation on an empty construction lot. Rather than trying to join the others, she recruits them, getting them interested and excited in her new project. The secretly form PLAIN, People Loving Art in Neighborhoods, and take on more projects, all whimsical public displays. The police overreact, calling these "art attacks" and declaring a public curfew. Jane's traumatized mom also panics and grows more possessive.
Jane gets a crush on a cute guy who is also a loner and outsider at school. The other Janes all find themselves becoming more confident. And PLAIN, despite its general secrecy, gets at least one surprise recruit. An interesting turning point comes when PLAIN starts advertising participatory events, for example, asking everyone to sing at a specific date and time. The town's teens, bristling under all the new restrictions and collective punishments the school and police have been handing down, are happy to join in. What started as a playful solo art show becomes a collective resistance to unjust authority.
I think, somehow, this year I've been enjoying a multimedia subgenre of coming-of-age stories about girls forming or joining clubs. This and Loveless and This is How We Fly and Six Angry Girls, but also the movie Whip It, and anime like Laid Back Camp and Do It Yourself and Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken. Mostly by accident, I've found a series of stories that would've been excellent advice to my younger self, (and that still resonate with me today as I increasingly try to return to the world after the Covid lockdown) - go out, find friends, do things together.
I hope there are comparable stories addressing boys and young men, because if anything, they are even more lost and lonely than their femme and enby peers, and the hateful rightwing radicalization offered by the online Manosphere should not be the only voice showing them a path to camaraderie, companionship, and a cure for being alone.
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