The Sculptor

The man who literally wrote the book on comics and graphic novels ([b:Making Comics: Storytelling Secrets of Comics, Manga and Graphic Novels 60113 Making Comics Storytelling Secrets of Comics, Manga and Graphic Novels Scott McCloud https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1427577266s/60113.jpg 58487], [b:Understanding Comics: The Invisible Art 102920 Understanding Comics The Invisible Art Scott McCloud https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1328408101s/102920.jpg 2415847], and [b:Reinventing Comics: How Imagination and Technology Are Revolutionizing an Art Form 60116 Reinventing Comics How Imagination and Technology Are Revolutionizing an Art Form Scott McCloud https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1440618749s/60116.jpg 154633]) has proven, if there had been a shred of doubt, that he can also just as literally simply write a very good book. Poor David Smith–no, not that David Smith; the other David Smith–has had a life I wouldn't wish on an enemy. Death, stolen success, and failure have been his story, and, since our secular culture can think of nothing worse and no better way to measure failure, he is also a vir.... a vvvvr.... virg... sorry, I can't even bring myself to type the word, it seems to be so dreadful a condition. In the very depth of his misery he is given a gift beyond compare, but his use of that gift is up to him. We watch him succeed, only to have that success snatched away. We watch him fail. Mostly, we watch a man who wants, who yearns so mightily, whose inner artist screams for release, but who doesn't know quite what it is he wants. His failure is legitimate; it is not just because bitter hacks refuse to acknowledge his greatness. Their criticisms are right: he is unfocused, immature, insubstantial. His salvation--by way of true love--could have been as gagging as a finger down the throat, but it did not feel that way. It seemed to me honest and realistic. And the fore-ordained end--his death and his true love's death--was a relief. I dreaded a last minute reprieve, a gooey sop thrown to the sentimentality of the reader, but McCloud didn't do that. God bless him. David died; Meg died; I'm going to die (maybe today, who knows?). I am so grateful I took my co-workers suggestion and read this book.