The untold coming-of-age story from a contemporary comics master Marble Season is the semiautobiographical novel by the acclaimed cartoonist Gilbert Hernandez, author of the epic masterpiece Palomar and cocreator, with his brothers, Jaime and Mario, of the groundbreaking Love and Rockets comic book series. Marble Season is his first book with Drawn & Quarterly, and one of the most anticipated books of 2013. It tells the untold stories from the early years of these American comics legends, but also portrays the reality of life in a large family in suburban 1960s California. Pop-culture references—TV shows, comic books, and music—saturate this evocative story of a young family navigating cultural and neighborhood norms set against the golden age of the American dream and the silver age of comics. Middle child Huey stages Captain America plays and treasures his older brother’s comic book collection almost as much as his approval. Marble Season subtly and deftly details how the innocent, joyfully creative play that children engage in (shooting marbles, backyard performances, and organizing treasure hunts) changes as they grow older and encounter name-calling naysayers, abusive bullies, and the value judgments of other kids. An all-ages story, Marble Season masterfully explores the redemptive and timeless power of storytelling and role play in childhood, making it a coming-of-age story that is as resonant with the children of today as with the children of the sixties.
Gilbert and his brother Jaime Hernández mostly publish their separate storylines together in Love And Rockets and are often referred to as 'Los Bros Hernandez'.
Gilbert Hernandez is an American cartoonist best known for the Palomar and Heartbreak Soup stories in Love and Rockets, the groundbreaking alternative comic series he created with his brothers Jaime and Mario. Raised in Oxnard, California in a lively household shaped by comics, rock music and a strong creative streak, he developed an early fascination with graphic storytelling. His influences ranged from Marvel legends Jack Kirby and Steve Ditko to the humor and clarity of Hank Ketcham and the Archie line, as well as the raw energy of the underground comix that entered his life through his brother Mario. In 1981 the brothers self-published the first issue of Love and Rockets, which quickly drew the attention of Fantagraphics Books. The series became a defining work of the independent comics movement, notable for its punk spirit, emotional depth and multiracial cast. Gilbert's Palomar stories, centered on the residents of a fictional Latin American village, combined magic realism with soap-opera intimacy and grew into an ambitious narrative cycle admired for its complex characters and bold storytelling. Works like Human Diastrophism helped solidify his reputation as one of the medium's most inventive voices. Across periods when Love and Rockets was on hiatus, Hernandez built out a parallel body of work, creating titles such as New Love, Luba, and Luba's Comics and Stories, as well as later graphic novels including Sloth and The Troublemakers. He also collaborated with Peter Bagge on the short-lived series Yeah! and continued to explore new directions in Love and Rockets: New Stories. Celebrated for his portrayal of independent women and for his distinctive blend of realism and myth, Hernandez remains a major figure in contemporary comics and a lasting influence on generations of artists.
One of my brothers landed in hospital once when they were playing with marbles while lying on their bellies, and he lost a tooth. Another brother landed in hospital when my brothers were running and chasing each other around the house and he ran through a glass door. Although we practiced mad air jumps off swings, my sister foolishly fell from a playground swing and broke her collarbone. My youngest brother ended up with a hole in his ankle when his foot got caught in the wheel while double riding on a bicycle, and a hole in his head after his bicycle rolled over due to handling the front brake inadequately. I was lucky. I only broke the fingers of my right hand when my brother (with the two holes) landed on my hand while we were wrestling for fun.
Apart from the girl that landed in hospital after swallowing one too many marbles, and a GI Joe doll that broke its arm, nothing really happens in this collection of random childhood memories, which I thought was quite boring and easily forgettable. However, if you had an unexciting childhood, you might end up liking this.
Popular culture usually gets childhood wrong. There does not seem to be much of a market for realistic portrayals of childhood, but there certainly is one for excessively cute, wise, and viscous children...
The kids in Marble Season, on the other hand, actually think, talk, and behave like kids. It is the rare case of a cultural commodity getting childhood right, warts and all. In fact, the only two other cases that come to mind are the newspaper-strip classics Peanuts and Calvin & Hobbes. Come to think of it, comics appear to be better-suited for the portrayal of childhood than film and television, maybe because the language of comics allows for more reader participation and can insinuate certain aspects of childhood that cannot be captured by child actors.
Anyway, Gilbert Hernandez takes full advantage of the potential of the comic-book language, providing an episodic, erratic, often vague and sometimes surreal narrative whose loose structure reflects the childhood experience itself - its limited concentration span and sense of logic, its lack of self-reflection, its devotion to the moment and to the immediate environment, its passion for constructing manageable microcosms.
Marble Season is an absolute masterpiece, highly recommended to anybody with an interest in alternative comics!
Silver Age Comics...Mars Attacks Cards...G.I. Joe...a trip down memory lane for anyone who grew up in the 60's and can remember when neighborhood kids played games with each other. The tension between individuals set against the backdrop of adolescent awakening is masterfully captured by Gilbert Hernández in this wonderful coming of age GN.
Deceptively simple growing up tales, thinly veiled memoir. It feels as episodic as any of my kid summers, just one thing after another, yet themes develop as things move along... big brothers/little brothers/comics, boys-girls... Huey's love of comics and sci fi and his role in neighborhood storytelling is constant throughout. As is consistent with Beto, there is one strikingly pretty, inaccessible girl that sort of wafts her way through it all, sort of mysteriously, which in my experience is how nerd boys experience such girls, as sort of specters of the inaccessible, of beauty, of class....
Near the end, Huey talks to a girl pretty seriously about growing up, and boys and girls, and we see there is an arc to the whole, and we are being set up for the next set of tales... It feels very familiar to me in many ways, like I am reading my own neighborhood growing up stories. As always, Beto's work seems simple at first, then a closer reading reveals his understanding of whatever culture he is depicting... with grace and love and humor.
The less fantastical the stuff from Hernandez is, the more potent. You get a punch to the gut when you experience childhood as witnessed from one of the best graphic novelists of our time.
The insignificant gets an actual frame, its existential worth is golden. There is no Captain America in our USA. But what there sure is is Captain Mexican!
4.5 stars. Wonderfully textured evocation of childhood with its continually shifting allegiances, casually surreal moments, weeks of intense obsession, abject emotions, repressed romances, and personal mythologies spun out of rumors that you may just have started yourself. Less a narrative than an artfully sustained mood and web of correspondences. Masterful work from Beto.
I rarely buy graphic novels and usually for whatever reason, I don't enjoy reading them more than once. I find I tear through them and no matter how much I love them, when I get to the end, I'm done.
Not so with "Marble Season." I could read this book again and again. That said, it is back at the library now and I only read it once, so I will do the best I can with this review.
"Marble Season" follows Huey, perhaps ten years old when the story begins? through a certain time in his childhood. To be honest, I am not sure how old he is or how much time passes. When I began reading it I thought "marble season" had some relationship to spring and summer. When the book ended, I thought it meant the span of time in which a kid might be interested in playing Marbles.
In some ways it seems not very much time passes from beginning to end. The characters don't grow physically I don't think (I kept looking at the youngest brother for clues that he was aging, because I thought it would be more noticeable), though they do shift and change and mature in certain ways. It's not a classic coming of age story, but there are some small and meaningful coming of age moments. It tries I think to elicit the feeling of childhood more than to tell a definitive story, though it does tell a story that has the texture here and there of a graphic novel, though perhaps more has the episodic movement of a comic strip.
Apparently it is loosely autobiographical, and so it makes sense that Huey is into comic books and always coming up with ideas for plays and movies and works on writing scripts. One of my favorite scenes is when he gets a bunch of older neighborhood kids (including his older brother) to act out a play he has written. It is brilliantly comical and so true to life the way the scene plays out.
Another great theme throughout the book is Huey's relationship with toys and card collections and comic books. He learns a lot about people's expectations around gender through various kinds of play (there are a few particularly poignant and funny moments relating to his relationship to a certain doll/action figure.)
But I also love some of the quieter moments. Huey alone reading or working on a project. His deeper conversations with his friends. The way his confusion, frustration, curiosity and affection are often internally at war with each other.
All in all this is a charming, meandering, evocative exploration of childhood (that time in childhood when children often begin to understand that they are on their way to adulthood, and in some odd way, practicing for it or working their way toward it). I love following Huey through his days as he tries to make sense of a strange world and all of its baffling dynamics, allegiances, hierarchies, violences and boredomes.
Gilbert Hernández in Dennis the Menace-mode. Marble Season is an episodic and engaging narrative. The book reminded me of being a kid after school, walking around, meeting mostly harmless and strange other kids, watching fights, trading comics. This is the best work Gilbert has done in quite a while.
I was born in the 80's, but most of my childhood memories take place in the 90's. I feel lucky for this because I was definitely part of the last generation to grow up without the internet, or cell phones. I actually remember a time when you took a long car ride and the only thing to do was to stare out the window. Or if you didn't know how to get past a certain part of a game, you had to figure it out, or talk to your friend who knows a guy who beat the game. I think this is the reason this book struck such a cord with me. I can really remember having a childhood similar to the kids in Marble Season. I was pretty lucky that my neighborhood was filled with kids and we went on a lot of adventures together. We'd just be hanging out and start playing tag, and for the next few days tag was a really big deal. Then someone would just have a bunch of baseball cards or marbles, and tag would be forgotten. You were just going from one game to the next, living in your imagination. If I had one criticism of the book it's that there really is no story. It just seems to be made up of Gilbert's random memories and impressions of childhood. Reading Marble Season really took me back to that. For the most part I'm not a sentimental or nostalgic person, but it was nice to spend some time walking through the memories of my childhood.
My 10-year-old son keeps asking me why it’s called MARBLE SEASON. They barely ever play marbles, he says. I just tell him to keep reading. It’s been a long time since I had been so moved by a comic book, probably the last time I read something by Gilbert Hernández. He’s a master of the form, telling an evocative story about childhood that captures the potential of youth without neglecting the boredom, the excitement, the weirdness, the fluidity of friendships, the confusion of burgeoning sexuality, all told subtlety and with a line that reminded me of the minimalistic majesty of PEANUTS. My son likes the book, and I want him to keep reading it as a reminder that his age is magical and fleeting.
I bought it as an e-book, and I really disliked reading a graphic novel in the Kobo app. I guess I am spoiled by how lovely digital comics are through Comixology, where you can have each panel blown up. With Kobo it was hard to read the dialogue and there are no options to zoom in. I will be glad to buy this in paperback to read it again, but I'm disappointed that I won't be buying other Drawn and Quarterly e-books, especially since all the Chester Brown stories are available that way.
A dreamy, fun, nostalgic return to childhood (in the 60s.)
Somewhere in-between Manga and American comics there is the work of Los Brothers Hernandez (in this case Gilberto Hernandez) ... I won't degrade it by comparing it to literature,...
almost without plot this was a charming emotional experience.
I highly recommend it, and I strongly discourage the completely unnecessary "afterword."
At first I was a little skeptic about how much I would like this book but I did, I really did. It brought about some feeling I didn't even know I had about my childhood. I also got to meet both Gilbert and Jaime Hernandez at the book signing which made it all even better than I could ever imagine.
Qué corto se hace a pesar de lo tocho que parece! Todo es muy intrascendente y parece que no pasa nada, pero en realidad son esos recuerdos de la infancia, que se quedan grabados.
Excellent comic about childhood and the random and seemingly unconnected stuff kids get up to. More than anything I've ever read before, this comic feels exactly like childhood.
Reviewing Gilbert Hernandez’s newest masterpiece (for that is clearly what it is), Marble Season, is going to be difficult. Not because I’m unsure how I feel about the work, it’s a love story to the magical delights and misfortunes of childhood, and not because I don’t know why this is an excellent example of why comics should continue to be celebrated among the most important literary works. The problem I’m facing is one that I’ve only just encountered since I started writing about comics on Shared Universe Reviews: other writers, professors and bloggers have written better reviews and analyses of Marble Season than what I’m attempting to write.
I know how it sounds. I sound like a whining wannabe who’s fishing for the pity of others. I sound like someone who spends more time trying to convince others that my fandom is real, that I am the actual number one Gilbert Hernandez fan. Despite having only discovered the Beto’s work, and the work of Los Bros Hernandez, specifically Love & Rockets, sometimes in 2008, I’m their biggest fan and you’ve got to believe me because I’ve real, not all, but most of their comics on several occasions and… well, you get my point. In the grand scheme of things, I feel rather unimportant but I really don’t think Beto would mind. Sure, I most likely can’t write a verbose and in depth appreciation of Marble Season to rival the afterword of academic Cory Kreekmur, which can be found at the back of the book but that’s ok, right? Just like Gilbert shows us there is more than one way to appreciate a comic, you can be like Gilbert’s stand-in, Huey, and read comics and analyse muscleman adds or you can be like little Chavo and enjoy tearing them up instead, there is more than one way to enjoy, appreciate and recommend Marble Season. The real important thing is that despite my limitations as a writer, I’m trying.
Enough about me, let’s talk about Marble Season. Gilbert Hernandez, my favourite of the Hernandez brothers (which isn’t saying much, they’re all masterful in their own right), has always excelled at writing convincing child characters in his Love & Rockets series. One of my all-time favourites is Guadalupe. I remember how I felt the first time I ever read “Heartbreak Soup”. I haven’t taken the time to count, but in that one story alone, Gilbert created nearly fifty characters and that’s not exaggeration. Out of all of them, Guadalupe was instantly my favourite. Her antics with all the other children in the fictional village of Palomar were an absolute delight. The nicest thing I can say about Marble Season is that it’s all child cast reminded me of the children of Palomar in “Heartbreak Soup” which is still one of Gilbert’s best known stories.
The story of Marble Season is rather simple, perhaps deceptively so. It’s about the day to day lives of Huey, his brothers and his friends. There isn’t much of a plot. The comic is episodic in nature which is apt since Gilbert’s is greatly influenced by the child centric comics and news strips of old such as Little Archie Comics, Little Lulu and Peanuts. Somehow the episodic nature that seems to contradict the publication format of a graphic novel is a very powerful tool in Gilbert’s hands. The themes are meaningful of complex for a work that, at first glance, appears to be slight. Long-time fans of the Hernandez Brothers won’t be fooled. The nearly completely silent pages that pepper the comic are an exercise in subtlety and are key for adding emotional depth to this story about the lives of children.
Consider one such page where little Chavo, Huey’s little brother, is walking outside quite content taking a stroll outside under the summer sun. He encounters something in the road. It’s a dead baby bird. Chavo is completely traumatized as to how the baby bird ended up in such a state. He continues on in with his stroll but his facial expression TRAHI the burdened mind of a young boy who has lost a bit of his innocence. The page is told entirely without text but it’s powerful. Perhaps little Chavo, despite his lack of speech, is aware of everything that is going on. Gilbert uses him to great effect in Marble Season. Chavo is the secret observer in the neighbourhood. That’s probably why he wanders off so much. He’s curious as to the affairs of the older kids. His bald, round head gives him the allure of a Latin American Charlie Brown which fools the reader into thinking this little child is as emotional troubled as Charles Shultz semi-biographic character. That’s not the case for Chavo though. On many occasions while reading Marble Season, I thought he was the only character to fully understand what was going on in the lives of the neighbourhood kids. As I said before, despite the simple nature of this book, there are a lot of things that happen or, more accurately, suggestions are made about things that will happen.
The vague yet marvellously descriptive title perfectly describes that period of every child’s life where they begin to understand the worlds of adults. The book is about growing pains as it is about anything else. A tomboy deciding to wear a dress in order to catch the attention of a boy, a boy more concerned who perhaps chooses to pursue the affections of a Latin American girl after being mocked by his friends for demonstrating feelings for a little white girl with freckles, another boy who is still as of yet unconcerned with the opposite sex, learns an important lesson about honesty, material desires and thievery. Marble Season perfectly describes that time in our lives where playing with your favourite childhood toy and being trouble by one of the mysteries of life happen in the same day, sometimes simultaneously. The Marble Season is the time in which you enjoy playing with your G.I. Joe all the while being embarrassed about what people think of you for playing with your G.I. Joe. Huey is encouraged to play with his G.I. Joe in ways he’d never done before in order to avoid such embarrassment during the course of the book. Real boys are rough with their G.I. Joes, they toss them at the wall and throw them in the mud, and they shouldn’t be preoccupied with their toys getting hurt or other girly nonsense. Marble Season, among other things, is the twilight years of a child.
I could go on. There is a lot to consider in the relatively short 120 pages. I mentioned earlier that Gilbert is my favourite of the Hernandez Brothers but I didn’t say why. Gilbert is sneakily subtle in his writing and in his art. His art is simple but it can be full of energy and emotion. Gilbert carves his characters in the page. It’s harsh and beautiful at the same time and I adore it. His writing is the same. It’s straightforward but deceptively so. His writing will reward those who take their time. Linger on the quieter panels and pages. Take the time to flip back and forth and really see what’s going on. I described Marble Season as being episodic and it is, but all that really means is that Gilbert gives us little snippets of story that build on one another and weave together to form a tapestry. You can easily appreciate each little snippet on it’s on but it’s only once you stop and consider the whole that you think to yourself “I see what you did there, Beto. Well done!”
Like others of Gilbert Hernández’s short standalone works, Marble Season is remarkable in its understatement.
Compared to the epic scale of his Palomar and Luba stories, this seems a conservative exercise in imitating postwar comic strips (Peanuts, Dennis the Menace, etc). But because this is a Los Bros comic, there’s much more at work beneath its humble surface. Throughout, we see the seeds of Brother Gilbert’s magical thinking being planted in otherwise mundane events: a neighborhood girl who swallows marbles, a family with two boys who push the edge of acceptable behavior, innocent games that turn into expressions of profound childhood anxiety, and so on.
I’m even more amazed by how much Gilbert’s fictionalized account of growing up in a mixed-race Southern California neighborhood resembles my own Southern California childhood, even though we are two decades apart in age. The relationships, conversations, gossip, happenings, characters, and everything are all eerily familiar to me. It’s even more remarkable because this is so much more kid-friendly than much of his other work.
I hope Gilbert has more of the story of Huey in him because, as pseudo-memoir, Marble Season seamlessly bridges the gap between the artist and his work.
I saw Lady Bird a few days after reading this and love both of them equally; they have a lot in common in terms of capturing true-sounding dialogue, jumping from memory to memory at a just-barely-not-disorienting pace, and sketching out characters amazingly fast. My favorite panel is about Barnabas, the brother with the unibrow, who flunked.
A sequence of poignant childhood moments that unspools quietly but compellingly. The logics of the narrative are somewhat subtle, and revealed in a satisfying way as the story unfolds. At the same time, there's something to delight in in every scene.
Un cómic agradable de leer, pero que resulta algo soso para quienes no podemos entrar en el ejercicio de nostalgia, porque no nos criamos en la misma época que Beto Hernández ni con los mismos referentes.
A quick, fun read. The book consists mostly of little vignettes, so rather than telling a story about childhood, it gives one the FEELING of what childhood is and was like. It's extremely whimsical, and is appropriate for young adults and older adults.
Last year, my reading world changed in a remarkable way, for I finally discovered a long held open secret from the 1980’s. I stumbled upon Love And Rockets, by the esteemed Hernandez Brothers. My senses knew of this comics existence, long a hallmark of the indie scene, but had never imbibed in a single issue. That quickly changed, and I am now the proud owner of three of the fifty or so issues published.
My excitement over this mature reader comic series translated to a hunger for the latest work from one of the brothers, Gilbert Hernandez and his hardcover graphic novel Marble Season. One I sated at TCAF.
While Love And Rockets tells the wild tales over the years of two sisters and their cadre of friends, all with an imaginary punk soundtrack blaring in our mind’s eyes, Marble Season is an off kilter time capsule to Gilbert’s childhood in some nebulous past of the 1950’s/1960’s.
These vignettes are mostly about one ten old boy and his brothers, one older, one younger. Sections of slices of life at home and around the neighbourhood are featured, with a loose story propelling us through these hazy days of childhood. One mayor turning point is when the tomboy ditches her trademark baseball bat and shocks everyone by wandering around in a dress.
That, coupled with subplots involving bullies just being mean and strange new kids who might harbour dark secrets, makes a complete picture of what is happening in the background of these kids lives, a fact our POV character only barely comprehends.
Which is one of the themes of Marble Season that master storyteller Hernandez cleverly infiltrates all along this graphic novel. What you as a child understand of the world and the adult problems around you is always interesting, and the cluelessness we all endure, with only the truth bubbling to our mental surface a ways down the line, is a rite of passage we all know and live with.
The adult world edge these parts illustrate is counter balanced with the play the kids engage in. As the oft repeated mantra of “pretend” is bandied about, all to explain any illogics used in their games. The comics and television shows that fuel these long and tempestuous sessions are frequently referenced by the kids, making you realize the eternal hold and sway these media have over us. A simple object becomes Captain America’s shield, all because of “pretend” combined with the religion of comics. And that is all we kids needed.
Marble Season is a different flavor and feel than Love And Rockets, a fact I love. Hernandez shows the human creature is all it’s glory, but this time with a The Mighty Hercules theme song as the soundtrack.
Somewhere between Charlie Brown and growing up in the suburbs of Los Angeles lies Marble Season, and the Hernandez brothers(of Love and Rockets fame) explore that adventure of growing up and the fantasy and legend with which we remember it. I love these guys! It took a long time for me to finally read my first Love and Rockets book, but once I did I was hooked on the mix of stories that ranged from science fantasy mixed with punk rock and barrio life, or the stories of the quiet Mexican village of Palomar,that is pretty much run by some very interesting women. Reading Love and Rockets is still one of my favorites reads when it shows up in my comic pile, and I try to read any of the side projects that the brothers involve themselves in too. This side project is not completely new for them. There regular stories have always had a strong representation of the children that get involved with the characters of those stories. This book, however, deal entirely with those children and the lives that they live, and the lives the create for themselves. Sometimes the lives that circumstance creates for them. All the fears, the fun, the imaginings and the realities of growing up. There's some wisdom here and there is also quite a bit of the instability we all knew, as we learned to make our way. I'm not sure that the Hernandez brothers are for everybody, but I am sure that if you're a comic reader you probably should at least give them a try. If you're interested in the human experience this might be the place to try a comic book.
I'm going to say this as a fan of comics and someone who respects what the artists and writers do:
I don't get the Bros. Hernandez. I just don't. I don't really understand what's happening in Love & Rockets, I didn't really understand what I was to draw from Palomar, and in this book, though there are some very real moments, I just found it...forgettable.
Maybe a good comparison is Harvey Pekar. That guy writes about the mundane as well. Almost as though he's intentionally trying to make things less exciting. But there's something I GET about what he's doing. I think, while reading Harvey Pekar, I feel the way he would intend for a reader to feel.
That's part of the disconnect for me here. I don't think I feel the way they were intending, or, and this is a lot to parse, I don't feel like they have planned to try and make me feel something in particular.
I'll probably give Love & Rockets another try just because it's such a piece of comic book history, and I can understand that maybe there's a cultural significance, being a white boy or growing up in a different time, that separates me from what's being said. But honestly, I'm not a man with extendable adamantium claws or The Comedian or Guy Delisle or Chris Ware, yet those things speak to me.
I suppose that to me, Marble Season DID feel a lot like the other works by Bros. Hernandez, so if you wanted to wade in it might be a nice way to give it a shot.
A lot of Beto's post-Palomar work hasn't really done it for me. I think part of that is that there's been a sort of coldness and distance that I've found in his story-telling of late, though I'm having trouble putting my finger on what exactly it is. Anyways, I picked up Marble Season because I thought him doing a semi-autobiographical comic about his childhood would bring back the warmth that I really like in his work. And for the most part it does, though I still feel a little bit of that distance. It might be that there's no central narrative, but instead the book is a series of vignettes about our protagonist's (Huey) eight year old life. I think it hurts a little bit for not having that narrative, and it goes by a little too quickly without leaving as much impact as I would have hoped, but a lot of the vignettes are really charming and funny. Beto's still a master of facial expression and body language and he really shows it off here. The expression on Huey's face after his first Captain American play gets canceled is worth the price of the whole book. I also admire his hands-off approach to presenting his characters and their behavior. It never feels like he's shoving anything down your throat; he shows everything in a neutral way and lets the reader figure things out for themselves. I like a writer who trusts his readers.
I might have gone with 4 stars, but the timing of my encountering this book pushed it to 5. I just wrapped up a school year teaching 3rd graders and so much of this book resonated with me. Beto nails childhood - what I get to see everyday and what I miss out on when they're not around me. Corey Creekmur says it best in his essay-afterword (worth reading on its own, by the way) "this quietly powerful work is...a representation of the way life is lived, even or especially in the moments we might disregard as simply ordinary or everyday, within the context of a particular time and place. The focus here is therefore less on what childhood means than on what if feels like." This book feels like childhood. The random vignettes bleed together and leave with an understanding of a feeling...what childhood felt like. Couldn't be happier to have read this book in the sun today!