Seeing the Essential: Craig Thompson’s Instructive Carnet de Voyage

Journaling… like every other human endeavor, there exists a narrow sliver of people who raise this seemingly simple practice to the level of a refined and illuminating art. Such is the case with graphic novelist Craig Thompson’s Carnet de Voyage. In the spring of 2004, Thompson traveled to Europe to promote his novel, Blankets, after it was picked up by Casterman, one of Europe’s most influential comics publishers.

In addition to numerous interviews and book signings, Thompson’s trip was punctuated by personal excursions accompanied by friends and colleagues, as well as a three-week solo trek in Morocco to research his next graphic novel. Throughout his journey, Thompson kept an illustrated diary, and while his experiences are typical of many American tourists who find themselves on the other side of the Atlantic for the first time, the way in which he documents his trip is far from ordinary.

The Art of Journaling

Writing coach Julia Cameron encourages writers by stating that journaling doesn’t need to be labored over. One sits down and writes whatever comes to mind without worrying about a narrative arc. The process becomes a sort of meditation. No need to rewrite or refine. Simply document your train of thought. That’s the kind of journaling I do, and as a result, my journals are rambling bastions of snooze. In addition, I often feel that I’ve left out some of the choicest morsels of my week, but I’m out of time and need to move on to something useful.

For most writers, boiling a story down to its essential elements is a challenge. I’d love my journals to be more succinct, but that would require editing. Furthermore, turning anything in my diary into a publishable work would entail multiple rewrites. This perpetual conundrum lies at the root of Mark Twain’s famous quote: ‘I didn’t have time to write a short letter, so I wrote a long one instead.‘

It’s with these limitations in mind that I marveled over Thompson’s illustrated travelogue, which begins with a cautionary note: “[this book] is a self-indulgent side-project—a simple travel diary drawn while I was traveling through Europe & Morocco… Perhaps it’s ill-advised to release such off-the-cuff material… Feel free to tell me if you think so, but know you’ve been warned.”

At the Altar of Brevity

One of the often overlooked skills of graphic novelists is brevity. Critics and fans of graphic storytelling applaud the illustrations and might mention that they loved the plot, but little is said about the actual writing. Yet, award-winning scenario writers are keen observers who boil a narrative down to its essential elements. The limited page real estate in a graphic work simply demands pointedness.

I usually maintain some semblance of a journal while traveling. Every trip starts with the goal of trying to shorten my entries. I envision myself scribbling a few notes throughout the day and maybe a couple of paragraphs at night, arriving home with all I need to flesh out a longer version. I have yet to succeed in this mission.

Hence, I’m in awe of Thompson’s ability to create a journal that contains many of the essential elements of a great story: adventure, uncertainty, tension, comic relief, compassion, and suffering. Thompson manages to pack a huge range of settings, encounters, observations, unfiltered feelings, and a snarky alter ego into Carnet de Voyage, a tiny cahier of 224 pages.

Choosing words is undoubtedly a demanding art. Now, consider the images. Thompson not only had to decide what to say in as few words as possible, he also had to decide what to draw. In a crowded street scene, what do you include? Storefronts, people, pavers, vehicles, animals, plants, the sky, your own reactions? The possibilities are limitless. Now, imagine coming up with multiple illustrations every day and framing them with text to depict a world that is largely estranged from life as you know it.

A Herculean Feat

I was introduced to Thompson’s work earlier this year when I checked out Blankets from my public library. I usually reserve all of my graphic novel reading for Francophone authors. However, Thompson was born in my home state of Michigan. I’ve heard his name for years, and Henry Chamberlain’s Comics Grinder Blog eventually convinced me I needed to check him out.

I agree with Anne Lamott‘s assertion that nothing is more important than a likable narrator, and Thompson clearly fits the bill. He’s fresh, thoughtful, unpretentious, and smart. At the end of the book, Thompson reveals that no cameras were used in the making of Carnet de Voyage. He sat or stood, both inside and outdoors, and drew what was in front of him.

Some of Thompson’s pages refer to the increasingly difficult-to-manage pain in his hands. Anyone’s grasp would be hard-pressed to withstand the demand of book signings, where you might need to cheerfully sign hundreds of copies, as well as the monumental task of illustrating each day’s events. In Morocco, Thompson gave away a majority of the portraits that he produced. This was an economical way to compensate people for their services, but it furthered the strain on joints and tendons.

I was shocked when Thompson noted that he has rheumatoid arthritis. By the end of the book, he’s exhausted, worried he’s inflicted permanent damage to his health, and wary of his rush-to-market publisher. Should he send his unfiltered sketchbook off to be printed? He writes about the act of doing so as if it were somehow immoral, believing that he’s hardly put enough energy into the project to be charging people for access.

I imagine that friends flipped through his sketches and assured him of the worthiness of his account. Thompson doesn’t say what, if anything, may have assuaged his doubts and caused him to send in his manuscript. He does mention, however, that it went to print a week after it was received. I, for one, am glad it did.