Now collected into one stunning paperback! This story, structured like a traditional twelve bar blues song, with three sections each made of four chapters, follows blues musician Lem Taylor’s harrowing journey starting from juke joints he appears in to fleeing across Arkansas of the late twenties, a black man hunted down for a crime he didn’t commit. A racially intense story presenting a significant aspect of black history, its music, its social injustice.
Woodcut style artwork which somehow fits the rough caricature of the south that gets repeated here: Blues musicians traveled the south, and faced racism wherever they went. Still, it's a story we really do need to remember, so in case you didn't know this 1920's Southern American Gothic history, here's a story structured like a traditional twelve bar blues song, with three sections each made of four chapters. That's a pretty cool idea. There's some actual quotations from journalism and blues history texts early on in this text, though these disappear as the story proceeds. They don't add much except to give it a sort of newsprint, documentary foundation for the story.
And the woodcut art somehow fits with the myth-making here. Look at Lynd Ward's God's Man, silent graphic novel with a mythical structure Vollmar and Pablo Callejo seem to draw from.
The story is about blues musician Lem Taylor, who worked with a piano player, Ironwood Malcott. The two have some good luck--they get heard by a producer who wants to record some of their music--and soon after have some very bad luck--the piano player sleeps with a woman whose boyfriend is a jealous white guy. Racism, violence, extreme poverty, the stuff of the blues.
I liked the dialogue, the music, the stark history referenced here. I like the ending, which I won't reveal, exactly, but it pays tribute to vinyl collectors, archivists of music history and the idea that behind all these old blues songs by forgotten musicians there is a hard life. It's actually a bit moving.
Overall, I didn't learn anything really new about the south or racism or the blues, but it's very good work, maybe 3.5.
First graphic novel for me!! And It was a real good one.
My teacher gave It to me because we studied all about blues plus one of my English finals that I'll present will be on Blues so I was excited to read It.
And let me tell you guys..what a heartwrenching story and beautiful at the same time. The drawings are gorgeous the contrast between the black and white is really good and powerful.
I won't say anything else but that It's about two african americans and they're searching for a place to stay for the night and play music and sing Blues songs but one day things got real hard for them and the graphic novel became kinda thrillerish!! (Which is great)
There's a lot going for Bluesman, including woodcut-style art that often bends out of the box. The thick, exagerrated lines and heavy shadows hit just the right note for a story about roots musicians. And there's a fearlessness in how the book faces the Gothic mythos and religiosity that informs so much of the blues. I was interested, too, in how the story sync-ed up its fable with mid-century journalism about traveling bluesmen that's quoted in the text when the chatter of the characters quiet down...but that device fell away for no particular reason
Ultimately, though, this book felt thin. What was probably intended as archetypes felt like caricature. Characters were drawn simply -- which is right for a fable -- but when they take the shape of, say, the portly racist Southerner, or the strong, self-sacrificing "negro," it just feels too familiar. Moments in the story that might shock you out of the pattern--for example, in the multiple scenes of violence--don't quite have the follow-through to work. The inherent energy of violence is lost in predictability; just about all the characters who are victims of violence die, and quickly.
I love mythic stories, which tend to be rife with violence and extreme characterization. But there's a difference between a story that is mythic and a story that is romanticized. It bothers me when one is mistaken for another; it seems like an insult to the real power of myth. Maybe what bothered me about Bluesman comes down to perspective. For me, the blues has potency because of its fiercely first-person vantage. The "I" voice is essential -- though the "I" also carries a collective set of "I's" behind it; the first-person is both singular and plural in those songs. Stories about the blues, like this one, overlay not just a third-person perspective, but a third-person that aspires to grand omniscience. Rather than having the cumulative power of "I," the omniscient story settles for "them, within a universal scale." Even if the omniscient story is basically true -- as in Bluesman, which celebrates these musicians as meaningul, even prophetic, voices -- the contrast to its content is just too sharp. Because of that basic lack of reconciliation, the core power in the blues is undercut, and its native mythos, diminished.
La sufrida historia de los primeros bluseros. Dos jóvenes músicos descendientes de la generación de la abolición de la esclavitud recorren granjas para tocar a cambio de una noche de hospedaje y comida. Se ven envueltos en un drama donde mueren varios, incluido un "blanco", lo cual desata una cacería feroz del músico protagonista de la obra, Lem Taylor. Escrito por un profesor de música y dibujado en blanco y negro precioso, con reminiscencias de Charles Burns.
A graphic novel about a pair of travelling blues musicians in Arkansas in the 1920s. The evocative, dark artwork suits the themes of poverty, hardship, jealousy, murder and lynch mobs. As sorrow-filled and mesmerizing as the Delta blues, this is a tale for adults rather than teens.
For similar stories, see Stagger Lee by Derek McCulloch and Shep Hendrix (events that led to the popular blues song); Stuck Rubber Baby by Howard Cruse (race relations in the southern states in 1960s); Contract with God by Will Eisner (darker side of human nature in 1930s New York City); and Deogratias by J.P. Stassen (tragic tale of modern Rwanda).
Early 20th century America period pieces and racial inequity stories are a weakness of mine, as is the role of music and religion in life, so Bluesman is playing to all of my fiction fetishes. Even if it didn't, it would be a good book. But it isn't a great one.
The plot focuses on a pair of traveling blues performers, Ironwood and Lem, in Arkansas in the 20s. After a particularly successful stop, they meet a pair of ladies and run afoul of a white man who is enamored with one of the women. Violence ensues, and Lem, innocent of any carnage, goes on the run. The white sheriff suspects the truth, but the white man's family wants blood. The narrative is full of (understandably) racist dialogue and a solid mix of characters. It doesn't really expand on some of the character types found in these stories: the understanding white guy who tries to protect the black people and the socially powerful white bigot are in full force here, but Vollmar also mixes in Native Americans in an interesting, but not-fully-realized way.
The book's biggest shortcoming, beyond the predictable archetypes, is the loose way Vollmar uses faith and religion. Lem is established immediately as knowing Scripture, and they flash back to his youth to show his religious upbringing, but we really only see him use his religion as a tool to convince whites that he's a "good" black until the end, when he embraces his faith too quickly and too conveniently, setting up a (nearly literal) deus ex machina ending. So the story has some moments, but it's a tad predictable and the ending whimpers.
Callejo's art is good. Solid, black & white, high contract, more like wood block carving that linework. The characters are easy to recognize and follow, and the storytelling is strong. It's a great book to look at.
This is a story of two nomadic bluesmen, during the 1920s, traversing through Arkansas for a place to stay, while trying to earn a living as blues players. They managed to catch a break when they arrive at a bar. They play a gig and the bartender introduces them to record scout, who wants to cut deal with them for a record. They just had to make it to a studio in Memphis on time. Things were looking up until one of the bluesmen decided to hook-up with two local girls before leaving. This rendezvous doesn’t go well, and the story turns into a crime and hot pursuit situation. Overall, I thought the story was exciting to read, it was packed with enough thrills to keep my attention throughout the book. It does have a lot of violence in it, but it doesn’t take anything away from the story. There is also a lot of use of the word n****r, so it can be upsetting for some people. The black and work artwork was good. It used this scratch effect for the lighting and detail. The facial expression of the characters was illustrated well and the distinction with between characters and background were also done well.
This one was an odd mix of interesting art and story, but the limits of each kept me from thoroughly enjoying it--I would have enjoyed it more if we had either gotten more back story on Lem (his childhood flashbacks were quite engaging, but not utilized enough to move the character development or story along), or shifted it to more of an ensemble book (which might have made sense, given the format of mimicking a blues song in comic form). As it stood, we got just enough about Lem to care a bit, but not enough to help us through the brutal storyline.
Still, an engaging book, with some beautiful art. Glad my library carries it!
I really liked the story and how it develops... It catch you right away and the characters are likeable too. Drawings are beautiful in some aspects like landscapes and "effects" (I don't know how to call them) but are a little poor with characters. For example I can't even identify (unless I see their instruments) very good between the two main musicians of the story: Their faces are so alike! But apart of that, it worthed every minute. This is my second graphic novel. First one was 300
Striking visuals, and the backbone of an excellent story; despite several moments with real emotional punch, it depends too much on a reader's familiarity with tropes of the bad old Jim Crow days. Ends up too specific to be a universal fable, but without enough meat to stand on its own as a satisfying tale.
The art rendered in woodcut style is strikingly original and hauting. The inventive narrative, structured as a traditional twelve bar blues song, with three sections each made of four chapters, follows blues musician Lem Taylor’s harrowing journey across Arkansas in the late 1920s, hunted for a crime he didn’t commit. The story is sometimes a bit muddled and predictable.
I received this book as a gift from my husband and I was very skeptical as I am not a big fan of graphic novels. Well, I was wrong. This is beautifully written and so moving I wept at the end.