What do you think?
Rate this book
Yellow Negroes and Other Imaginary Creatures
One of the Globe & Mail’ s 100 Best Books of 2018
A timely collection of work about race and immigration in Paris by one of France's most revered cult comic book artists.
Yvan Alagbé is one of the most innovative and provocative artists in the world of comics. In the stories gathered in Yellow Negroes and Other Imaginary Creatures —drawn between 1994 and 2011, and never before available in English—he uses stark, endlessly inventive black-and-white brushwork to explore love and race, oppression and escape. It is both an extraordinary experiment in visual storytelling and an essential, deeply personal political statement.
With unsettling power, the title story depicts the lives of undocumented migrant workers in Paris. Alain, a Beninese immigrant, struggles to protect his family and his white girlfriend, Claire, while engaged in a strange, tragic dance of obsession and repulsion with Mario, a retired French Algerian policeman. It is already a classic of alternative comics, and, like the other stories in this collection, becomes more urgent every day.
This NYRC edition is an oversized paperback with French flaps, printed endpapers, and extra-thick paper, and features new English hand-lettering and a brand-new story, exclusive to this edition.
A timely collection of work about race and immigration in Paris by one of France's most revered cult comic book artists.
Yvan Alagbé is one of the most innovative and provocative artists in the world of comics. In the stories gathered in Yellow Negroes and Other Imaginary Creatures —drawn between 1994 and 2011, and never before available in English—he uses stark, endlessly inventive black-and-white brushwork to explore love and race, oppression and escape. It is both an extraordinary experiment in visual storytelling and an essential, deeply personal political statement.
With unsettling power, the title story depicts the lives of undocumented migrant workers in Paris. Alain, a Beninese immigrant, struggles to protect his family and his white girlfriend, Claire, while engaged in a strange, tragic dance of obsession and repulsion with Mario, a retired French Algerian policeman. It is already a classic of alternative comics, and, like the other stories in this collection, becomes more urgent every day.
This NYRC edition is an oversized paperback with French flaps, printed endpapers, and extra-thick paper, and features new English hand-lettering and a brand-new story, exclusive to this edition.
109 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1995
13 people are currently reading
523 people want to read
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 56 reviews
July 22, 2019
The first image you see is the cover: a drawing of an African man's head with someone's white hands around his throat, choking him. The style of the drawing is rough and disturbing.
Next, open the French flap on the inside front cover: you're confronted with a crude but unmistakable drawing of Alan Kurdi, the three-year-old boy who drowned while fleeing Syria with his family and his body washed up on a Turkish beach. You didn't even know how deeply his small shape has become part of your memory, and then here it is, and the image confronts you at once with the subject of this book: the dehumanizing and desperate outcomes that humans suffer, because of racial and economic inequality.
What follows in this book are seven stories of people trying to survive in a post-colonial, inter-racial, economically unfair world.
The first story, "Love," has no words at all. Only bodies in relation to one another in a powerful series of inter-related poses. I'm not even sure whether "Love" signals hope, or if it is a graphic representation of racial oppression. There is a jittering uneasiness in these drawings. Even though the images in "Love" resolve themselves, panel by panel, into a scene that, in a non-racist world, would be peaceful and loving, we don't live in such a world. Even the most peaceful of images in this graphic novel pulse with more sinister meanings.
I hate to call this work a "graphic novel" because it works on a less linear and more visual plane than any graphic novel I've read. I see that there are many "I didn't get it" comments in the reviews here on Goodreads, and that's fair if you're judging this book as a graphic novel that follows storytelling conventions, which it decidedly does not do. But this book isn't really about the language or story. This book works the way fine art works. The text provides a guide to the images, not the other way around.
Like the best contemporary art, Alagbé's illustrations invite interpretation, rather than telling you what to think. They evoke great meaning and feeling, even at their least representational. The drawings in some panels are nothing more than dark, rough scribbles, and yet they project a loss of order and a sense of human helplessness. They frequently reflect the feelings that his characters feel when confronted with situations beyond their control.
Next, open the French flap on the inside front cover: you're confronted with a crude but unmistakable drawing of Alan Kurdi, the three-year-old boy who drowned while fleeing Syria with his family and his body washed up on a Turkish beach. You didn't even know how deeply his small shape has become part of your memory, and then here it is, and the image confronts you at once with the subject of this book: the dehumanizing and desperate outcomes that humans suffer, because of racial and economic inequality.
What follows in this book are seven stories of people trying to survive in a post-colonial, inter-racial, economically unfair world.
The first story, "Love," has no words at all. Only bodies in relation to one another in a powerful series of inter-related poses. I'm not even sure whether "Love" signals hope, or if it is a graphic representation of racial oppression. There is a jittering uneasiness in these drawings. Even though the images in "Love" resolve themselves, panel by panel, into a scene that, in a non-racist world, would be peaceful and loving, we don't live in such a world. Even the most peaceful of images in this graphic novel pulse with more sinister meanings.
I hate to call this work a "graphic novel" because it works on a less linear and more visual plane than any graphic novel I've read. I see that there are many "I didn't get it" comments in the reviews here on Goodreads, and that's fair if you're judging this book as a graphic novel that follows storytelling conventions, which it decidedly does not do. But this book isn't really about the language or story. This book works the way fine art works. The text provides a guide to the images, not the other way around.
Like the best contemporary art, Alagbé's illustrations invite interpretation, rather than telling you what to think. They evoke great meaning and feeling, even at their least representational. The drawings in some panels are nothing more than dark, rough scribbles, and yet they project a loss of order and a sense of human helplessness. They frequently reflect the feelings that his characters feel when confronted with situations beyond their control.
January 23, 2019
The art is amazing. You want to go back over it again and again. I really enjoyed the first story and actually went back over it about three times, which is rare for me. But I really started to lose what was going on in subsequent stories. Fascinating but goes over my head.
August 25, 2018
"Challenging" is one way to label this comic collection, but "impenetrable" more describes my attempt to suss out meaning from these stories. I felt like there might have been too much missed in translation - not just from the original French, but due to my lack of knowledge about France and (in particular) its culture around migrants.
I really like the expressive art, but I wish I could've followed the stories better.
I really like the expressive art, but I wish I could've followed the stories better.
March 19, 2019
i went into a bookstore a few weeks ago and saw this on a shelf and knew immediately i had to get it for my gf, so i brought it home. sometimes i find things for her that turn out to contain crazy coincidences and this was one of those times. she just instagrammed a bunch of pics of thomas sankara and had me learn all about him, so imagine my surprise when there is a whole section about him and the entire book is dedicated to him! it's just wild because if i read this book right after buying it or even last week i would not have understood a huge chunk of it, and i only read it now because i am going to give it to her next week and i wanted to make sure it was good. it proves the last section's point about being written out of history that i did not know who thomas sankara was until my gf told me about him last week. the first story made me feel a mix of pity and revulsion for the mario character, which i was not sure if i was supposed to feel until i went back and re-read the first poem n i think that was exactly what i was supposed to feel. i am usually not that great at reading esoteric artsy poem things but i loved this. the art was just so jarring and stunning i feel like i'm going to re read this over and over to look at it. when i think about immigration i always think of it in an american context, because that's where i am so it's easy to see and understand the issue and stories. you vaguely hear about immigration in europe on the news but it feels much more distant. this book is so stunning and sad and im sure i will be revisiting it.
December 14, 2018
(Originally published on The Great God Pan is Dead. http://www.thegreatgodpanisdead.com/2...)
Yvan Alagbé published Les Nègres jaunes et autres créatures imaginaires in 2012, collecting stories that were originally published in Le Chéval sans tête, which Yvan Alagbé co-edited in the early 1990s. The longest story is Les Nègres jaune, which was originally published in 1994. It is widely considered a modern classic of French comics. The New York Review of Books has in recent years been publishing comics, many translated from French and belonging to Alagbé's generation and general style--experimental, artistic and somewhat oblique.It's taken more than 20 years for the USA to catch up with this masterpiece, with New York Review Comics publishing Yellow Negroes and Other Imaginary Creatures in English with a new story as an afterward.These stories of migrants from third world countries seem more urgent than ever, although for Americans the situation is a little different. We didn't have, as France did, a vast African empire. Alagbé was born in Paris in 1971 of Beninese parents, and lived for three years as a child with his family in Benin. His stories are often about undocumented workers from Africa who end up in France. However, the stories don't exist to make a political point, even if such points are inherent in the stories. Alagbé is not a polemicist. His work is too subtle and inflected with modernism to be propaganda.
At first glance, his drawing seems very sketchy. He likes to slather black ink on the page. He has an expressionist style. perhaps related to José Muñoz, an artist whose work he published through Amok, a boutique avant garde comics publisher in France. But he sometimes lays off the heavy blacks and uses fairly delicate line work or even a humorous, cartoony style. It all depends on the needs of the story at a particular place. This willingness to change the art to suit the story recall's Muñoz's teacher, Alberto Breccia. But Alagbé's drawing style is not what sets him apart--it's the structures of his stories.
"Yellow Negroes" has the most conventional structure. The story of Alain, Claire and Mario--Alain is an undocumented Beninese man, Claire his white French girlfriend, and Mario, a former Algerian policeman who worked for the colonial government repressing the Algerian revolutionaries, making him a persona non grata in Algeria and an embarrassment to the current French police. Mario's awkward place between two worlds, neither of which want him, make him the most interesting character in the story. As an elderly retired policeman, he continually tells Alain and his sister Martine (who works as a housekeeper) that he can use his "connections" to help them get papers. But he is mainly a lonely man, who uses their abject state as a way to insinuate himself into their lives.
But a totally different structure is used in "Postcard From Montreuil". Here each panel shows a view of the street in Montreuil where the "Hommage à la Résistance 1939-1945" monument is. This abstract sculpture pops up in some of the panels, which otherwise mostly depict ordinary street scene--buildings, pedestrians, etc. Meanwhile, each panel has a caption below that describes how this was the site of a months long occupation of an employment agency by undocumented Malian workers. This jobs protest goes on for almost a year until the agency is moved without warning. It is not explained if the protest followed or not, nor are the protesters depicted in any way. Except for a few images of job notices pinned to a wall, almost every panel could indeed be a postcard of picturesque Montreuil and its "curious sculpture." Alagbé quotes the base of the monument: "If the echo of their voices weakens, we shall perish." The quote is attributed to Paul Éluard. In a way, the story itself shows that the echo of the voices of the protesters is weakened by the abrupt relocation of the jobs agency, but in a sense Alagbé's story itself becomes an echo, preventing the protest from perishing from memory.
"The Suitcase" is a good example of how Alagbé changes his drawing style to fit the work. The barely there story is about Jeanne Martine Egbo returning from her "native land" to "France/Hollywood", carrying fish in her suitcase. The style is very abstract and symbolic, except for a few images of Egbo dealing with her suitcase, which are depicted in a completely different, comedic manner.
The new story "Sand Niggers" was drawn in 2017. Alagbé directly addresses the issue of "migrants" fleeing their homes to Europe, comparing their plight to another classic French comic from the 1990s (which I hope The New York Review translates)--Demonic Tales by Aristophane. The text is a meandering first person essay about migrants and refugees and survivors, as well as the dead. The images have an oblique relationship to the text. (Indeed, Donald Trump appears in one in one of his trademark signing ceremony poses.) "Sand Niggers" will perhaps help the American readership to make sense of what they just read.
Yvan Alagbé published Les Nègres jaunes et autres créatures imaginaires in 2012, collecting stories that were originally published in Le Chéval sans tête, which Yvan Alagbé co-edited in the early 1990s. The longest story is Les Nègres jaune, which was originally published in 1994. It is widely considered a modern classic of French comics. The New York Review of Books has in recent years been publishing comics, many translated from French and belonging to Alagbé's generation and general style--experimental, artistic and somewhat oblique.It's taken more than 20 years for the USA to catch up with this masterpiece, with New York Review Comics publishing Yellow Negroes and Other Imaginary Creatures in English with a new story as an afterward.These stories of migrants from third world countries seem more urgent than ever, although for Americans the situation is a little different. We didn't have, as France did, a vast African empire. Alagbé was born in Paris in 1971 of Beninese parents, and lived for three years as a child with his family in Benin. His stories are often about undocumented workers from Africa who end up in France. However, the stories don't exist to make a political point, even if such points are inherent in the stories. Alagbé is not a polemicist. His work is too subtle and inflected with modernism to be propaganda.
At first glance, his drawing seems very sketchy. He likes to slather black ink on the page. He has an expressionist style. perhaps related to José Muñoz, an artist whose work he published through Amok, a boutique avant garde comics publisher in France. But he sometimes lays off the heavy blacks and uses fairly delicate line work or even a humorous, cartoony style. It all depends on the needs of the story at a particular place. This willingness to change the art to suit the story recall's Muñoz's teacher, Alberto Breccia. But Alagbé's drawing style is not what sets him apart--it's the structures of his stories.
"Yellow Negroes" has the most conventional structure. The story of Alain, Claire and Mario--Alain is an undocumented Beninese man, Claire his white French girlfriend, and Mario, a former Algerian policeman who worked for the colonial government repressing the Algerian revolutionaries, making him a persona non grata in Algeria and an embarrassment to the current French police. Mario's awkward place between two worlds, neither of which want him, make him the most interesting character in the story. As an elderly retired policeman, he continually tells Alain and his sister Martine (who works as a housekeeper) that he can use his "connections" to help them get papers. But he is mainly a lonely man, who uses their abject state as a way to insinuate himself into their lives.
But a totally different structure is used in "Postcard From Montreuil". Here each panel shows a view of the street in Montreuil where the "Hommage à la Résistance 1939-1945" monument is. This abstract sculpture pops up in some of the panels, which otherwise mostly depict ordinary street scene--buildings, pedestrians, etc. Meanwhile, each panel has a caption below that describes how this was the site of a months long occupation of an employment agency by undocumented Malian workers. This jobs protest goes on for almost a year until the agency is moved without warning. It is not explained if the protest followed or not, nor are the protesters depicted in any way. Except for a few images of job notices pinned to a wall, almost every panel could indeed be a postcard of picturesque Montreuil and its "curious sculpture." Alagbé quotes the base of the monument: "If the echo of their voices weakens, we shall perish." The quote is attributed to Paul Éluard. In a way, the story itself shows that the echo of the voices of the protesters is weakened by the abrupt relocation of the jobs agency, but in a sense Alagbé's story itself becomes an echo, preventing the protest from perishing from memory.
"The Suitcase" is a good example of how Alagbé changes his drawing style to fit the work. The barely there story is about Jeanne Martine Egbo returning from her "native land" to "France/Hollywood", carrying fish in her suitcase. The style is very abstract and symbolic, except for a few images of Egbo dealing with her suitcase, which are depicted in a completely different, comedic manner.
The new story "Sand Niggers" was drawn in 2017. Alagbé directly addresses the issue of "migrants" fleeing their homes to Europe, comparing their plight to another classic French comic from the 1990s (which I hope The New York Review translates)--Demonic Tales by Aristophane. The text is a meandering first person essay about migrants and refugees and survivors, as well as the dead. The images have an oblique relationship to the text. (Indeed, Donald Trump appears in one in one of his trademark signing ceremony poses.) "Sand Niggers" will perhaps help the American readership to make sense of what they just read.
February 5, 2020
I think my experience with this book is largely an issue of personal limitations- I'm discovering that graphic novels which aren't neatly crafted, whose art is too distracting or not clear enough in relation to the text/narrative, really take me out of a book. While the themes in these vignettes are important and the illustrations often powerful, I didn't find myself very engrossed. The confusing formatting and general chaos of the illustrations/templates/layout proved a barrier to my reading. I also ...understand the importance of disenfranchised experiences for men of color, but have very little patience left for reading about these experiences at the expense of women characters' depths, variety of roles and functions in the text, etc. The sexualization of women, specific women at that, with very little time devoted to their interrogatories exhausted me a bit- and perhaps I'm reading it wrong. But it's hard, I think, for me to elect to read beyond the vantage point of: these characters may not look at women as people.
This isn't to say the text or the author is misogynist. I don't believe they are and in fact maybe this novel is saying something about gender- but it just isn't for me.
This isn't to say the text or the author is misogynist. I don't believe they are and in fact maybe this novel is saying something about gender- but it just isn't for me.
April 9, 2018
Pascal and I discussed this book for a recent episode of our Euro Comics series. A collection of seven pieces written between the mid-1990s and 2017, this text is quite challenging. Most of the stories -- although "stories" might not be the most appropriate way to describe some of the contributions -- don't follow a clear, or even more traditional, narrative form. The title story is the longest and most sustained, a densely wrought piece with a lot of moving parts. It's also the story that most closely participates in the socio-historical setting and thematics that largely define this collection: France and its colonialist past, especially as it relates to Algeria.
August 9, 2018
Yes! A particular view into the African-French experience, singular and quietly harrowing, and a really interesting/dense illustration style. I'm always impressed on the windows comics can give into worlds we barely think of, into unique characters as well as social situations, and this was a solid example of that.
September 4, 2017
The art is very unique, but ultimately hard to understand. The stories are hard to follow as well, and the art does not help. Happy to have read.
February 25, 2020
Poorly drawn and pointless.
January 23, 2022
Questa graphic novel si compone di una raccolta di opere realizzate dal 1995 al 2012. In Italia verrà pubblicata solo nel 2019 da Canicola Edizione con la traduzione a cura di Valerio Camilli. L’autore del volume, Yvan Alagbé, nasce a Parigi nel 1971 e dopo aver trascorso parte dell’infanzia in Benin, nell’Africa occidentale, ritorna in Francia per studiare metamatica. Cresce in lui anche la passione per il fumetto, che verrà utilizzato come strumento d'indagine per tematiche sociali e questioni di genere. In questo volume i temi portanti sono l'attuale fenomeno migratorio e l'odio razziale. In copertina, infatti, su di un manto di colore giallo si trova al centro il volto di un uomo con due mani che lo strangolano. Un’immagine simbolicamente violenta e contrastante già per i colori che presenta come l'uso del giallo, colore della gioia, della libertà che viene soppresa. A mio parere la copertina ben rappresenta l'idea di paura e di soppressione, di essere soffocati dal giudizio altrui e dal pensiero colonialista.Il volume si contraddistingue, quindi, per l'opposizione dei colori presente anche nelle pagine interne in cui su sfondi bianchi troviamo abilmente inserite nere forme armoniose. In questo contesto l'autore si fa solo portavoce di una realtà spesso lasciata in disparte.
August 11, 2019
I liked this one, and didn't expect to.
It collects a bunch of stories intertwined together, it's got some great artwork, even though I understand why people wouldn't find it easy to follow through, cuz I've had some problems with it at times.
All in all, good slice of life stories about racism, money problems, people problems, humanity in general and some great art depicting all of that.
I was glad they recommended this one for me to read.
It collects a bunch of stories intertwined together, it's got some great artwork, even though I understand why people wouldn't find it easy to follow through, cuz I've had some problems with it at times.
All in all, good slice of life stories about racism, money problems, people problems, humanity in general and some great art depicting all of that.
I was glad they recommended this one for me to read.
October 8, 2021
A collection of raw, experimental stories of African immigrants in Paris, all done in stark black and white ink wash. Solid stuff, recommended for fans of Danijel Žeželj and Ho Che Anderson.
July 17, 2024
Paris born Yvan Alagbe builds upon his childhood in Benin, West Africa and adult years back in France to study physics and math to create a series of semi-autobiographical comics. A French citizen, Alagbe knows first hand the struggles of colonial born nationals who flee to France in hopes of a better life. Despite being French, the people of Algers, Benin and French Guiyana who come to Europe for refuge are treated by the government and its French born subjects as second class. This is primarily because they are black.
'Yellow Negroes' is Yvan Alagbe's most famous work of which this collection of stories is named after. The term 'yellow negro' is used to describe blacks who are extremely light skinned. Originally a racist term coined by American whites, the term itself has a controversial love/hate relationship among the global black community. Alagbe is known for using thick brush strokes and black ink in his art. The use of pitch black ink on stark white paper paves the way for a shocking twist reveal at the end of 'Yellow Negroes'; a story about a ersatz family of Benin refugees who become the obsession of a mysterious old man named Mario.
'Yellow Negroes' was originally published in serialized form from 1994-95 in Le Cheval Sans Tete (The Headless Horse) a French anthology series co-created by Alagbe. The story was met with international acclaim and put the artist on the forefront of French alternative comics. In 2012, Alagbe's groundbreaking story, along with several other short pieces was released. Les Nègres jaunes et autres créatures imaginaires went through several printings before being translated into an English edition in 2018 as Yellow Negroes and Other Imaginary Creatures.
The other works in this collection include the wordless 'Love' showing 2 lovers in a passionate embrace, 'DYAA' based on a fevered dream of Yvan Alagbe and 'Postcard From Montreuil' which records the daily struggles of undocumented workers in a Paris district.
This English edition was translated by Donald Nicolas-Smith. Being translated from one language to another, albeit both Romance languages, a lot of this book was a difficult read. It wasn't until after reading 'DYAA', that I learned that this was a dream of the artist's and not meant to really be understood. But a lot of the rest of this book felt very chaotic. As a fan of E.C. Comics, I loved the twist ending of the title story and I thought 'Postcard From Montreuil' was a powerful travel guide to an area of the City of Lights often not visited by tourists.
Still, I wasn't really excited to read this book and if it wasn't that I needed it to complete my 2024 reading challenge, I probably wouldn't have read it at all.
'Yellow Negroes' is Yvan Alagbe's most famous work of which this collection of stories is named after. The term 'yellow negro' is used to describe blacks who are extremely light skinned. Originally a racist term coined by American whites, the term itself has a controversial love/hate relationship among the global black community. Alagbe is known for using thick brush strokes and black ink in his art. The use of pitch black ink on stark white paper paves the way for a shocking twist reveal at the end of 'Yellow Negroes'; a story about a ersatz family of Benin refugees who become the obsession of a mysterious old man named Mario.
'Yellow Negroes' was originally published in serialized form from 1994-95 in Le Cheval Sans Tete (The Headless Horse) a French anthology series co-created by Alagbe. The story was met with international acclaim and put the artist on the forefront of French alternative comics. In 2012, Alagbe's groundbreaking story, along with several other short pieces was released. Les Nègres jaunes et autres créatures imaginaires went through several printings before being translated into an English edition in 2018 as Yellow Negroes and Other Imaginary Creatures.
The other works in this collection include the wordless 'Love' showing 2 lovers in a passionate embrace, 'DYAA' based on a fevered dream of Yvan Alagbe and 'Postcard From Montreuil' which records the daily struggles of undocumented workers in a Paris district.
This English edition was translated by Donald Nicolas-Smith. Being translated from one language to another, albeit both Romance languages, a lot of this book was a difficult read. It wasn't until after reading 'DYAA', that I learned that this was a dream of the artist's and not meant to really be understood. But a lot of the rest of this book felt very chaotic. As a fan of E.C. Comics, I loved the twist ending of the title story and I thought 'Postcard From Montreuil' was a powerful travel guide to an area of the City of Lights often not visited by tourists.
Still, I wasn't really excited to read this book and if it wasn't that I needed it to complete my 2024 reading challenge, I probably wouldn't have read it at all.
January 24, 2022
Questa graphic novel è stata pubblicata dalla casa editrice franco-belga Frémok, co-fondata da Alagbé, e ne mostra l'ispirazione d'avanguardia. La sequenzialità narrativa finisce in secondo piano e a dominare sono i disegni: evocativi, intensi e disturbanti, sono caratterizzati da segni neri pesanti e definiti, che assorbono l'ambiente circostante e ogni suo particolare.
L'Autore mette a nudo la volgarità del razzismo e la presunzione dell'occidentale; la sua non è una rappresentazione neutra, che parla attraverso ciò che mostra, ma è un atto politico forte e invasivo, che si impone al centro dell'attenzione. Non è un caso che il nome di Alagbé sia stato accostato a quello di Pasolini: si ritrovano, rielaborate e rinnovate, alcune questioni di quello che un tempo era definito il 'proletariato'; si raccontano storie d'amore dolci, contaminate da un universo malsano di depravazioni, che vedono nel corpo umano, e soprattutto in quello dell'immigrato, una carne da macello, a uso e consumo delle proprie perversioni.
L'opera è provocatoria già dal titolo; l'ironia è sferzante, violenta; e il contenuto non si rivolge solo agli immigrati, ma è uno spaccato della violenza fisica e psicologica subita dalle minoranze e dagli emarginati. Lo stile impiegato per rappresentare tutto ciò è molto personale, per quanto si avvertano le aspre curve del Picasso cubista, i contorni marcati di Gauguin, il graffitismo americano. E oltre ancora, alle origini dell'arte preistorica, risalendo i millenni fino agli anni Novanta del Novecento, quando l'arte africana trovò il modo di esprimersi senza la mediazione - sincera o forzata che fosse - dell'occidentale.
L'Autore mette a nudo la volgarità del razzismo e la presunzione dell'occidentale; la sua non è una rappresentazione neutra, che parla attraverso ciò che mostra, ma è un atto politico forte e invasivo, che si impone al centro dell'attenzione. Non è un caso che il nome di Alagbé sia stato accostato a quello di Pasolini: si ritrovano, rielaborate e rinnovate, alcune questioni di quello che un tempo era definito il 'proletariato'; si raccontano storie d'amore dolci, contaminate da un universo malsano di depravazioni, che vedono nel corpo umano, e soprattutto in quello dell'immigrato, una carne da macello, a uso e consumo delle proprie perversioni.
L'opera è provocatoria già dal titolo; l'ironia è sferzante, violenta; e il contenuto non si rivolge solo agli immigrati, ma è uno spaccato della violenza fisica e psicologica subita dalle minoranze e dagli emarginati. Lo stile impiegato per rappresentare tutto ciò è molto personale, per quanto si avvertano le aspre curve del Picasso cubista, i contorni marcati di Gauguin, il graffitismo americano. E oltre ancora, alle origini dell'arte preistorica, risalendo i millenni fino agli anni Novanta del Novecento, quando l'arte africana trovò il modo di esprimersi senza la mediazione - sincera o forzata che fosse - dell'occidentale.
February 29, 2020
Negri Gialli, il racconto che dà il titolo alla raccolta, è l’unico lavoro che sfrutta in maniera classica e compiuta il medium fumetto, restituendo uno spaccato di immigrazione complesso e non lineare, davvero interessante.
Gli altri racconti si affidano a soluzioni diverse, e in tutti i casi meno strutturate: volendo comprenderle in un macro gruppo, sono “racconti pesantemente illustrati”, nei quali le immagini hanno un ruolo di supporto importante, ma non si ha una vera e propria narrazione sequenziale.
Se lo stile grafico di Negri gialli è il più convenzionale del lotto, mantiene comunque una sua caratterizzazione peculiare, che mi ha ricordato un punto medio fra le macchie di un Andrea Bruno e la visceralità di Baudoin. Con Dylaa l’intento di fuga poetica si riverbera sia nella parte testuale, sia nelle macchie impressionistiche ostentate nelle vignette, con un risultato che mi ha colpito e in certi passaggi convinto, ma nella struttura generale un po’ allontanato (come avviene spesso per certe interpretazioni “poetizzanti”).
L’”umoristico” “La valigia” è il racconto che meno mi ha convinto del lotto: forse è una dimensione che ho vissuto come poco coerente rispetto al resto, e meno adeguata agli strumenti narrativi dell’autore.
Cartolina da Montreuil, Post scriptum e Sand Niggers sono più cronaca che narrativa, ma mi sono sembrati efficaci e ben costruiti.
Nel complesso: un lavoro interessante, ma che personalmente non ho trovato indimenticabile.
Gli altri racconti si affidano a soluzioni diverse, e in tutti i casi meno strutturate: volendo comprenderle in un macro gruppo, sono “racconti pesantemente illustrati”, nei quali le immagini hanno un ruolo di supporto importante, ma non si ha una vera e propria narrazione sequenziale.
Se lo stile grafico di Negri gialli è il più convenzionale del lotto, mantiene comunque una sua caratterizzazione peculiare, che mi ha ricordato un punto medio fra le macchie di un Andrea Bruno e la visceralità di Baudoin. Con Dylaa l’intento di fuga poetica si riverbera sia nella parte testuale, sia nelle macchie impressionistiche ostentate nelle vignette, con un risultato che mi ha colpito e in certi passaggi convinto, ma nella struttura generale un po’ allontanato (come avviene spesso per certe interpretazioni “poetizzanti”).
L’”umoristico” “La valigia” è il racconto che meno mi ha convinto del lotto: forse è una dimensione che ho vissuto come poco coerente rispetto al resto, e meno adeguata agli strumenti narrativi dell’autore.
Cartolina da Montreuil, Post scriptum e Sand Niggers sono più cronaca che narrativa, ma mi sono sembrati efficaci e ben costruiti.
Nel complesso: un lavoro interessante, ma che personalmente non ho trovato indimenticabile.
April 26, 2018
The comics in this collection are worth reading for the artwork alone, which covers a wide range of styles and techniques. At times it shows a superficial crudeness that belies its control and efficiency. The writing, at least as translated into English, is of variable quality, but at its best it is poetic and haunting.
I enjoyed the title story, but I think telling it through the medium of a comic book was a mixed bag. On the plus side, the author was able to move seamlessly between naturalism and grotesque, fantastic imagery. Yet I felt the nature of the story deserved a more spacious telling than comics can easily provide, and the narrative often felt disjointed.
"Dyaa," on the other hand, is a masterpiece that displays the unique storytelling powers of comics. It's an immensely rewarding story to read and re-read until all the pieces start falling into place.
The other entries, while uniformly good, are shorter and mostly work to complement the themes found in the two main stories.
I'm glad that I stumbled upon this collection and hope to see more work from Yvan Alagbé in the future.
I enjoyed the title story, but I think telling it through the medium of a comic book was a mixed bag. On the plus side, the author was able to move seamlessly between naturalism and grotesque, fantastic imagery. Yet I felt the nature of the story deserved a more spacious telling than comics can easily provide, and the narrative often felt disjointed.
"Dyaa," on the other hand, is a masterpiece that displays the unique storytelling powers of comics. It's an immensely rewarding story to read and re-read until all the pieces start falling into place.
The other entries, while uniformly good, are shorter and mostly work to complement the themes found in the two main stories.
I'm glad that I stumbled upon this collection and hope to see more work from Yvan Alagbé in the future.
April 20, 2018
I liked this a lot, and I'm surprised that it's the first work by Yvan Alagbe in English. I definitely want to read more. The artwork has a remarkable range, from heavy brushstrokes that invoke expressionist woodblock prints as well as minimalism to the point of abstraction, to whimsical large-eyed fine-lined cartoons, to rotoscope images of documentary photos. The storytelling styles vary, too, including brief vignettes, poetic and polemic observations on African and diaspora politics, and longer form narratives of pan-African diaspora life. Stirring stories, whimsical stories, and some opaque musings. I understand that the characters in the central title story appear in a more recent graphic novel. Translate it, please (or if the lettering is readable by Google Translate, I'll take the original).
May 24, 2018
A lot of ink was spilled by Yvan Alagbé in his collection of comics, YELLOW NEGROES AND OTHER IMAGINARY CREATURES, but spilled with a precision that’s not immediately evident in the bold broad strokes of his brushwork. His art is deceptively simple but deliberate, and I took it as high compliment when one of my kids mistook the work for my own chicken scratchings. The stories don’t hold your hand either. They’re evocative yet alien, passing through familiar landscapes peopled by characters who strive for dignity where there is none. The first story, the title one, is more linear, but the others read like strange tales without capes or ray guns but just as fantastic.
Read
November 20, 2024I had trouble with this. I found the drawings crude, and dark, so that I couldn’t always tell what was depicted. The storyline seemed disconnected from the images at times and sometimes left a gap that I couldn’t fill.
In such cases, where, otherwise, “professional” reviews herald the work’s greatness, I figure I’m just not getting it.
I read the stories in Yellow Negroes and shelved it, promising myself to return to it for a second reading.
In such cases, where, otherwise, “professional” reviews herald the work’s greatness, I figure I’m just not getting it.
I read the stories in Yellow Negroes and shelved it, promising myself to return to it for a second reading.
October 6, 2018
This was a thought-provoking collection both in its imagery and text.
The art is stark but expertly done, though hard to look at.
But most of the stories went right over my head and I couldn't make head or tail of what they were all about.
Still, I learned about a couple of new things like the 1961 massacre in the Seine, so I'm glad I read it for that bit alone.
The art is stark but expertly done, though hard to look at.
But most of the stories went right over my head and I couldn't make head or tail of what they were all about.
Still, I learned about a couple of new things like the 1961 massacre in the Seine, so I'm glad I read it for that bit alone.
November 18, 2019
The art matches the content well, unsettling. The stories are loose of plot and context, often just brief encounters or happenings that leave us disturbed but little else. I wish it was a bit more in some ways, like it feels more needs to be done or said. There is an experimental incompleteness here that I am unsure if is working all that well.
September 21, 2020
Raw comics about race and exile, from France. Crafted starkly in black and white, the art and writing both leave you untethered, grasping for some sort of comfort and recognition that isn't easily forthcoming - much like the experience of an immigrant in a hostile (or at least uncaring) new country might be. Not an easy read, and not everyone's cup of tea, but well done and distinctive.
January 28, 2024
If this were just about the secondary characters, the sister and the artist, I'd have people to relate to and care about their lives. But Mario and Alain are so creepy and repulsive in their own distinct ways...just, yuck. I'm getting old enough that memory isn't so reliable anymore. I'm hoping it's unreliable enough that I can forget I read this damn thing. It leaves a nasty taste.
July 26, 2018
Beautiful and enigmatic. However, I'm radically confused by the whole thing. I love it, but not really sure why. Kind of like.... mmmm.... I'm going to hold on to it for a while and read it again in a week or so.
October 18, 2019
High 3. I am not the target audience here, so I know I missed a lot of information happening here. But I did not miss the dread. The dread-level is high here, and I finished it feeling squicky and gross. That's a good thing.
Read
February 19, 2020I'm going to agree with quite a few other reviewers here: the artwork in this is fantastic, but I'm not sure I understood many of the stories. It feels unfair to rate the book based on never having read and comprehended it in its original language.
December 22, 2017
Unfortunately relevant today
May 23, 2018
I like the art; reminded me of Zeljko Ivanek. The stories are interesting but don't really get their hooks into me. But I appreciate the experimental nature of some of them.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 56 reviews