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Rolling Blackouts: Dispatches from Turkey, Syria, and Iraq
Cartoonist Sarah Glidden accompanies her two friends—reporters and founders of a journalism non-profit—as they research potential stories on the effects of the Iraq War on the Middle East and, specifically, the war’s refugees. Joining the trio is a childhood friend and former Marine whose past service in Iraq adds an unexpected and sometimes unwelcome viewpoint, both to the people they come across and perhaps even themselves.
As the crew works their way through Turkey, Iraq, and Syria, Glidden observes the reporters as they ask civilians, refugees, and officials, “Who are you?� Everyone has a story to tell: the Iranian blogger, the United Nations refugee administrator, a taxi driver, the Iraqi refugee deported from the US, the Iraqis seeking refuge in Syria, and even the American Marine.
Glidden (How to Understand Israel in 60 Days or Less) records all that she encounters with a sympathetic and searching eye. Painted in her trademark soft, muted watercolors and written with a self-effacing humor, Rolling Blackouts cements Glidden’s place as one of today’s most original nonfiction voices.
As the crew works their way through Turkey, Iraq, and Syria, Glidden observes the reporters as they ask civilians, refugees, and officials, “Who are you?� Everyone has a story to tell: the Iranian blogger, the United Nations refugee administrator, a taxi driver, the Iraqi refugee deported from the US, the Iraqis seeking refuge in Syria, and even the American Marine.
Glidden (How to Understand Israel in 60 Days or Less) records all that she encounters with a sympathetic and searching eye. Painted in her trademark soft, muted watercolors and written with a self-effacing humor, Rolling Blackouts cements Glidden’s place as one of today’s most original nonfiction voices.
298 pages, Hardcover
First published October 4, 2016
64 people are currently reading
3106 people want to read
About the author
Sarah Glidden
9books194followersSarah Glidden was born in 1980 in Massachusetts and earned a BFA in painting at Boston University. Her first graphic novel, How to Understand Israel in 60 Days or Less, was published by Vertigo Comics in 2010 and was featured in the Best American Comics series. It is now published by Drawn and Quarterly, as is her second book, Rolling Blackouts, which will be released in October, 2016. Glidden has created comics for The Guardian, Ha'aretz, and the Nib. She currently lives in Seattle.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 332 reviews
December 2, 2017
“They forget that refugees are people. When people think of refugees, they think of people with dirty clothes. But refugees can be wealthy, Einstein was a refugee. They have skills; they have ideas.”—Sarah Glidden, Rolling Blackouts
We live in a global society, something that has been reinforced repeatedly in the months since President Trump took his oath of office. As we have heard of changes to our immigration policies and watched footage of subsequent protests at airports nationwide, we are reminded of the value of a full and informed understanding of the world, its citizens, and our relationships with each other.
That’s where a text like Rolling Blackouts comes into play. Driving this work of graphic journalism is the protagonist’s quest for understanding the perspectives of those living in different parts of the world. Author/artist Sarah Glidden, along with two of her friends from The Seattle Globalist and former Iraq War Veteran Dan O’Brien, spent two months travelling through the Middle East, speaking with anyone and everyone they could.
As Glidden describes in the book’s preface, this resulted in hundreds of hours of recorded conversations. Glidden made painstaking efforts to accurately portray those they met and the words spoken. Each conversation they had with the people of Turkey, Syria, and Iraq aimed to overcome Dan’s admission, which appears early in the text: “I don’t have much of an idea of who they are, what they’re like.� And with this statement, perhaps, Dan speaks for many of us.
Throughout its 300-plus pages, Rolling Blackouts provides valuable historical contexts and multiple viewpoints to help any reader better understand the region and its people. Glidden incorporates the voices of government officials, aid workers, refugees—even a former terror suspect, among many others, in order to showcase the complicated realities of life in those countries. We meet those whose lives were improved from the Iraq War as well as those whose lives were destroyed. We meet those who love the United States, and those who say, “I don’t want to bring children into a country that could be bombed by America.� As Glidden writes: “I think sometimes journalists get caught up in the hard news part, in investigating an unknown angle. But they forget that for most of our audiences, it’s all an unknown angle.� Incorporating a large chorus of voices, Glidden hopes to inform and challenge her readers.
The focus on issues and worldviews provides a valuable, enjoyable, but very different experience from many graphic texts. Rolling Blackouts delivers almost none of the “action� that one might come to expect from the graphic medium. But what it lacks in action it more than makes up for by asking and hoping to answer difficult and significant questions—“No matter what we do, can you bring someone back from the dead?� and “What is journalism FOR? What’s the point?� –forcing readers to think, and in many cases grapple with, our own beliefs. Its skillful search for answers makes the dialogue-heavy Rolling Blackouts well worth a reader’s time.
The graphic medium is a perfect fit for Rolling Blackouts, due in large part to its focus on dialogue. As with her first book, How to Understand Israel in 60 Days or Less, Glidden’s simple but beautiful water-color drawings pull readers into each scene, conveying a strong sense of the locations and people depicted while also highlighting the words on the page. Rolling Blackouts is about granting admission into the thoughts and feelings of others.
Glidden has created an ambitious and powerful work capable of broadening its readers� horizons. As one character says, “It’s a shame that politics get in the way of people.� Works like Rolling Blackouts are necessary reminders of our shared humanity. While some in power might try to divide us, a little understanding and empathy, based directly in listening to individual stories, can go a long way. Helping others achieve that, I hope, will become Glidden’s legacy.
(Review originally published in Cleaver Magazine.)
We live in a global society, something that has been reinforced repeatedly in the months since President Trump took his oath of office. As we have heard of changes to our immigration policies and watched footage of subsequent protests at airports nationwide, we are reminded of the value of a full and informed understanding of the world, its citizens, and our relationships with each other.
That’s where a text like Rolling Blackouts comes into play. Driving this work of graphic journalism is the protagonist’s quest for understanding the perspectives of those living in different parts of the world. Author/artist Sarah Glidden, along with two of her friends from The Seattle Globalist and former Iraq War Veteran Dan O’Brien, spent two months travelling through the Middle East, speaking with anyone and everyone they could.
As Glidden describes in the book’s preface, this resulted in hundreds of hours of recorded conversations. Glidden made painstaking efforts to accurately portray those they met and the words spoken. Each conversation they had with the people of Turkey, Syria, and Iraq aimed to overcome Dan’s admission, which appears early in the text: “I don’t have much of an idea of who they are, what they’re like.� And with this statement, perhaps, Dan speaks for many of us.
Throughout its 300-plus pages, Rolling Blackouts provides valuable historical contexts and multiple viewpoints to help any reader better understand the region and its people. Glidden incorporates the voices of government officials, aid workers, refugees—even a former terror suspect, among many others, in order to showcase the complicated realities of life in those countries. We meet those whose lives were improved from the Iraq War as well as those whose lives were destroyed. We meet those who love the United States, and those who say, “I don’t want to bring children into a country that could be bombed by America.� As Glidden writes: “I think sometimes journalists get caught up in the hard news part, in investigating an unknown angle. But they forget that for most of our audiences, it’s all an unknown angle.� Incorporating a large chorus of voices, Glidden hopes to inform and challenge her readers.
The focus on issues and worldviews provides a valuable, enjoyable, but very different experience from many graphic texts. Rolling Blackouts delivers almost none of the “action� that one might come to expect from the graphic medium. But what it lacks in action it more than makes up for by asking and hoping to answer difficult and significant questions—“No matter what we do, can you bring someone back from the dead?� and “What is journalism FOR? What’s the point?� –forcing readers to think, and in many cases grapple with, our own beliefs. Its skillful search for answers makes the dialogue-heavy Rolling Blackouts well worth a reader’s time.
The graphic medium is a perfect fit for Rolling Blackouts, due in large part to its focus on dialogue. As with her first book, How to Understand Israel in 60 Days or Less, Glidden’s simple but beautiful water-color drawings pull readers into each scene, conveying a strong sense of the locations and people depicted while also highlighting the words on the page. Rolling Blackouts is about granting admission into the thoughts and feelings of others.
Glidden has created an ambitious and powerful work capable of broadening its readers� horizons. As one character says, “It’s a shame that politics get in the way of people.� Works like Rolling Blackouts are necessary reminders of our shared humanity. While some in power might try to divide us, a little understanding and empathy, based directly in listening to individual stories, can go a long way. Helping others achieve that, I hope, will become Glidden’s legacy.
(Review originally published in Cleaver Magazine.)
November 30, 2016
When I think of comics journalism, I think of Joe Sacco. Incisive, self-deprecating, personal, honest about his limitations. No romanticizing the places, the people, respectful of sources as appropriate. Rolling Blackouts is new generation comics journalism, but with similar characteristics. Glidden is not a journalist, or wasn’t, really, but she went along for the ride with some young journalist friends, Sarah, Alex, Jessica (and Dan, an Iraq war vet) who had just formed their own collective to do journalism about unheard stories not reported in mainstream media. They spent two months in Turkey, Syria, and Iraq and published several stories out of their experience. But this book is not a collection of their greatest hits; it's a comic by Gladden, and mainly a book about the nature of journalism, what it is, issues of ethics and representation, strengths and limitations. And committed, "outsider" or non-mainstream work that we don't hear from the Big News outlets, th importance of that. Early on it Glidden's tale of the journey has this Mickey Rooney-Judy Garland “let’s put on a play, we can do this!� feel to it, but they do manage to do what some great stuff together in dangerous territory, sometimes. These are nice people, talking mainly to nice people, getting their stories, people who have been and are deeply affected by the war, of course.
Glidden has an inviting and warm watercolor approach, drawing from hours and hours of taped interviews and observations of the team. It’s pretty long, 298 pages, a gorgeous artifact, with some pretty memorable stories, but it’s mainly about the basics of journalism two months abroad, trying to do some good in the world, inspiring others to do similar things, a diy approach. Stories of refugees matter, stories of every day people matter. In a way it's a model for others: What could I do in the world and how could I pull it off?
Glidden has an inviting and warm watercolor approach, drawing from hours and hours of taped interviews and observations of the team. It’s pretty long, 298 pages, a gorgeous artifact, with some pretty memorable stories, but it’s mainly about the basics of journalism two months abroad, trying to do some good in the world, inspiring others to do similar things, a diy approach. Stories of refugees matter, stories of every day people matter. In a way it's a model for others: What could I do in the world and how could I pull it off?
May 29, 2017
I was pretty lukewarm on Sarah Glidden's last book, How to Understand Israel in 60 Days or Less, so I wasn't expecting too much from this one. I'm happy to report that it exceeded my expectations dramatically. In Rolling Blackouts, some independent journalist friends of Glidden head to Iraq and Syria to report on the post–Iraq War situation in those countries, particularly as it concerns refugees. Glidden comes along to report on their reporting, and this book is the result. It's very valuable both as a snapshot of what parts of Iraq and Syria looked like at this time (around 2010, if I'm not mistaken) and as an examination of what it takes to be a journalist in this day and age. How do you report on stories truthfully yet still figure out how to "spin" them so news outlets will pay for them and people will pay attention? How do you keep your own expectations from coloring your work? If your expectations do end up coloring your work, as sometimes seems inevitable, how do you account for that? Also along on this trip is a childhood friend of the journalists, an American veteran of the Iraq War making a return trip to see what the fallout (positive and negative) of the conflict has been. The plan is for the veteran's return to become its own story, but of course he's also having a personal experience, and this circumstance adds quite a bit of tension to the narrative.
The topics Rolling Blackouts covers are vitally important, but fortunately the book also manages to be highly readable, so much so that I considered canceling my plans for Saturday night and finishing this book instead (I still kind of wish I had). If you're looking to become better informed about global affairs but aren't sure where to start, I highly recommend comics. They don't trivialize their subjects—far from it, in my experience—but the visual element means the information gets an extra foothold in your brain, and given how much there is to know, this can only be a good thing. As Glidden notes at the end of this book, the situation in Syria has changed significantly since they visited, and the evolving story is one we should all be paying attention to, yet the audience for such reporting tends to be despairingly small. I'm grateful to Glidden and her friends for trying to change that and for finding such an effective way to do it.
The topics Rolling Blackouts covers are vitally important, but fortunately the book also manages to be highly readable, so much so that I considered canceling my plans for Saturday night and finishing this book instead (I still kind of wish I had). If you're looking to become better informed about global affairs but aren't sure where to start, I highly recommend comics. They don't trivialize their subjects—far from it, in my experience—but the visual element means the information gets an extra foothold in your brain, and given how much there is to know, this can only be a good thing. As Glidden notes at the end of this book, the situation in Syria has changed significantly since they visited, and the evolving story is one we should all be paying attention to, yet the audience for such reporting tends to be despairingly small. I'm grateful to Glidden and her friends for trying to change that and for finding such an effective way to do it.
zz-dnf
March 6, 2017I made it to 104 pages before I decided to DNF this.
While I appreciated what this book was/is trying to do, it is an absolute snore-fest (or at least the parts till I read were). There were certain moments understated and powerful in their subtlety but the presence of the ex-soldier who compared his time in the military as a time spent with friends having fun took away all and any reason I had to read this. Actual people died, the majority of whom the Americans killed, in the Iraqi war and this ex-soldier is telling us it was fun times? There was almost no actual engagement with people who were affected by the war--at least not to the point I read.
This is more of a behind the scenes look into the kind of journalism offered by the subjects of this travel memoir than what I expected it to be. Oh well.
While I appreciated what this book was/is trying to do, it is an absolute snore-fest (or at least the parts till I read were). There were certain moments understated and powerful in their subtlety but the presence of the ex-soldier who compared his time in the military as a time spent with friends having fun took away all and any reason I had to read this. Actual people died, the majority of whom the Americans killed, in the Iraqi war and this ex-soldier is telling us it was fun times? There was almost no actual engagement with people who were affected by the war--at least not to the point I read.
This is more of a behind the scenes look into the kind of journalism offered by the subjects of this travel memoir than what I expected it to be. Oh well.
August 25, 2020
Disclaimer: I have met the author in person and had an unfavorable interaction. I went into this book already negatively biased, however I did my very best to remain open and read it start to finish to ensure I gave it my best chance.
That being said... This book is incredibly problematic and though I don't think it was the author's intention the book directly contributes to the false and negative stereotypes of the Middle East and The Iraq War.
I will start with some positives, because though my heart wants to give this book 1* for the frankly awful content I cannot ignore the fact I did learn a couple things. I am no means an expert of American Foreign Politics or Middle East history. My understanding of Kurdistan was definitely enhanced by the historical segments of this book. Iraq-Syrian relations were also not something I was super familiar with and I found the last 1/3 of this book in Syria actually quite interesting. Shockingly, the worst character and person in the book Dan the Marine was not in the Syria segment...
I also commend Glidden because having spoken with her about this book, I know how much work went into inking and water colouring each individual page. Water colour is not a traditional coloring form in comics and I applaud her for sticking to her classical art training. I also feel the water colour medium is great for portraying the tones of the Middle East and it's artictecture.
Now for the negatives:
I understand Dan the Marine was not originally intended to be in this project. However, I think the project from the start was a less than great idea. A comic book about "What is journalism?" Who cares? Why not make a book profiling Iraqi refugees? Why not make this a memoir about confronting the traumas of war caused by your Government? Why try and spin this into a meta-journism piece about journalists and their medium? These are questions I wish I could go back in time and ask Glidden when we met.
This book is supposed to be a journalistic piece, yet it is plagued with opinion and personal reflections. Comparing this to Palestine by Joe Sacco, it feels more like a memoir not quite complete. It is Dan the Marine who ultimately contributes to this, as his presence distorts the sense of "reporting" taking place in the book. Glidden is merely 'reporting' on a reporter collecting her story about Dan's return to Iraq. This for me was entirely pointless and served no narrative or stylistic purpose. It forced the reader to consume his military indoctrination and skews the perspective of the war. Dan claims he was against the invasion YET continuously says how he would gladly serve in Iraq again, or that the invasion was somehow necessary.
Dan refuses to acknowledge his contributions to the trauma of war. "I was just a convoy escort" is one step away from "I was just doing what I was told." This continues throughout, with Dan making local Iraqi's feel uncomfortable with his presence by continuously wanting to discuss his service with them. It made me feel physically ill to see/read him interacting in this way.
If at some point Glidden provided personal reflection on the matter, it would be different. But she doesn't; we simply see Dan spewing Americanism and claiming the war was just about Saddam (puhhhleaseeeeee). While she does re-interview Dan at the end of the book and somewhat addresses the issues, it is not enough for me. I don't feel as though his opinions are challenged and this is what gives the book a strange slant towards pro-invasion attitudes and "Iraq needed saving" justifications for war crimes.
I think there was an opportunity to do something amazing. Glidden's trip to the Middle East was funded on Kickstarter -- and this was what came out of it? Perhaps because I am not American there is some inherent missing link to why this book was made the way it was. Yet, I still maintain committing war crimes, and violating human rights should not be glossed over as "well that's just what America does." This notion needs challenged and this book doesn't challenge it at all. Quietly it allows this thought pattern to continue through almost 300 pages under the guise of 'journalism.'
My messages are open if someone reads this and wishes to further discuss American Politics surrounding the Iraq War and it's portrayal in this book. Or anything else relating to my review.
TL;DR - The character of Dan the Marine contributes to American notions of 'the Iraq war was necessary' and the author does not properly address the issues or challenge these thoughts, thus creating a book that reads as quiet American propaganda.
That being said... This book is incredibly problematic and though I don't think it was the author's intention the book directly contributes to the false and negative stereotypes of the Middle East and The Iraq War.
I will start with some positives, because though my heart wants to give this book 1* for the frankly awful content I cannot ignore the fact I did learn a couple things. I am no means an expert of American Foreign Politics or Middle East history. My understanding of Kurdistan was definitely enhanced by the historical segments of this book. Iraq-Syrian relations were also not something I was super familiar with and I found the last 1/3 of this book in Syria actually quite interesting. Shockingly, the worst character and person in the book Dan the Marine was not in the Syria segment...
I also commend Glidden because having spoken with her about this book, I know how much work went into inking and water colouring each individual page. Water colour is not a traditional coloring form in comics and I applaud her for sticking to her classical art training. I also feel the water colour medium is great for portraying the tones of the Middle East and it's artictecture.
Now for the negatives:
I understand Dan the Marine was not originally intended to be in this project. However, I think the project from the start was a less than great idea. A comic book about "What is journalism?" Who cares? Why not make a book profiling Iraqi refugees? Why not make this a memoir about confronting the traumas of war caused by your Government? Why try and spin this into a meta-journism piece about journalists and their medium? These are questions I wish I could go back in time and ask Glidden when we met.
This book is supposed to be a journalistic piece, yet it is plagued with opinion and personal reflections. Comparing this to Palestine by Joe Sacco, it feels more like a memoir not quite complete. It is Dan the Marine who ultimately contributes to this, as his presence distorts the sense of "reporting" taking place in the book. Glidden is merely 'reporting' on a reporter collecting her story about Dan's return to Iraq. This for me was entirely pointless and served no narrative or stylistic purpose. It forced the reader to consume his military indoctrination and skews the perspective of the war. Dan claims he was against the invasion YET continuously says how he would gladly serve in Iraq again, or that the invasion was somehow necessary.
Dan refuses to acknowledge his contributions to the trauma of war. "I was just a convoy escort" is one step away from "I was just doing what I was told." This continues throughout, with Dan making local Iraqi's feel uncomfortable with his presence by continuously wanting to discuss his service with them. It made me feel physically ill to see/read him interacting in this way.
If at some point Glidden provided personal reflection on the matter, it would be different. But she doesn't; we simply see Dan spewing Americanism and claiming the war was just about Saddam (puhhhleaseeeeee). While she does re-interview Dan at the end of the book and somewhat addresses the issues, it is not enough for me. I don't feel as though his opinions are challenged and this is what gives the book a strange slant towards pro-invasion attitudes and "Iraq needed saving" justifications for war crimes.
I think there was an opportunity to do something amazing. Glidden's trip to the Middle East was funded on Kickstarter -- and this was what came out of it? Perhaps because I am not American there is some inherent missing link to why this book was made the way it was. Yet, I still maintain committing war crimes, and violating human rights should not be glossed over as "well that's just what America does." This notion needs challenged and this book doesn't challenge it at all. Quietly it allows this thought pattern to continue through almost 300 pages under the guise of 'journalism.'
My messages are open if someone reads this and wishes to further discuss American Politics surrounding the Iraq War and it's portrayal in this book. Or anything else relating to my review.
TL;DR - The character of Dan the Marine contributes to American notions of 'the Iraq war was necessary' and the author does not properly address the issues or challenge these thoughts, thus creating a book that reads as quiet American propaganda.
January 28, 2018
Ufff... lo acabo de terminar, y me ha parecido increíble. Creo que debería ser leído por todo el mundo.
Nos cuenta la experiencia de un grupo de estadounidenses que se desplazaron a Irak y Siria para hablar con desplazados iraquíes y con kurdos que sufrieron la invasión de Estados Unidos y la posterior guerra civil. Y lo hace desde diferentes puntos de vista, ya que en dicho grupo hay periodistas comprometidos en dar a conocer a sus conciudadanos lo que allí pasó, y también hay un ex-marine que quiere conocer a esa gente desde otra perspectiva.
Todo antes de que la guerra estallara a su vez en Siria.
Muy duro y a la vez, muy interesante.
Nos cuenta la experiencia de un grupo de estadounidenses que se desplazaron a Irak y Siria para hablar con desplazados iraquíes y con kurdos que sufrieron la invasión de Estados Unidos y la posterior guerra civil. Y lo hace desde diferentes puntos de vista, ya que en dicho grupo hay periodistas comprometidos en dar a conocer a sus conciudadanos lo que allí pasó, y también hay un ex-marine que quiere conocer a esa gente desde otra perspectiva.
Todo antes de que la guerra estallara a su vez en Siria.
Muy duro y a la vez, muy interesante.
January 3, 2017
...(trying to think of someway to word how important this book has touched me without immediately erasing, then re-typing, then erasing, because these emotions are too raw for me to convey in such a form)...
April 6, 2018
I rate this book 2.5 because I have mixed feelings about it. I was surprised by Glidden's language at times including when she calls Syria a refuge even though millions are fleeing the country.
On page 225 Sarah S. says "And like I've told you, my whole job is that whatever people want to say, they can say it to me. I'm not going to make them say anything. Unless they're big, mean, bad guys. And you're not a big, mean, bad guy." Yet for most of the book Sarah S. has been trying to get Dan to "open up." On 195 she says "if I can get him to embrace some of the uncertainty..." It's almost as though a denial of the manipulation and agenda-pushing side of journalism is essential for the book even as readers witness this occurring. On page 230 Sarah S. actually talks about how someone changed in a "good story" and she is upset that she hasn't seen that happen with Dan. Dan's opinions are complex and have been from the beginning, and yet Sarah S. still has comments she wants to hear from him. On 240 she makes it clear that she wants to see him change. Apparently he can't just have his own feelings and thoughts: they have to be worth something on paper. Does Glidden not see this? Or does she not see pointing this out as part of her role as supposed journalist of the journalists? Personally, I think Dan is right to question whether Sarah S. wants him to take personal responsibility for the war because at times she really seems to be driving at that. I wonder if Glidden's point was just to record? If so, then she succeeds because I came away from this book with less respect for Sarah S, and that's likely tricky for Glidden's conscience as a friend. We may disagree with Dan, but trying to force an experience to change his mind does not seem like ethical journalism to me. Recording that experience in a book on journalism really makes me question Glidden's role. That question, however, I find compelling.
It's as though there are parallel narratives of denial. Sarah S. keeps saying Dan is hiding how traumatized he is from war and Glidden keeps saying Dan isn't her subject yet 2/3 of the book is about him and Sarah S's interviews with him. There is one page of Sarah S. acknowledging her conduct and then quickly justifying it because "most of my peers don't even engage with any of this stuff at all" (280). I seriously question her detachment in the last line of the book.
Ultimately, I feel the same way about this book as I do about Eve Ensler's Vagina Monologues: there are significant problems with voice, privilege, and missing narratives, but it's a useful introduction for people new to the discourse.
I do have to say that I love Glidden's watercolours and even with my reservations, I would read her work again. It's courageous to portray your friends in a harsh but likely revealing light. I think that I read this as narrative non-fiction and I just really did not like or respect the protagonist Sarah S. Glidden's refrain sums up my experience of this book: "it's complicated."
On page 225 Sarah S. says "And like I've told you, my whole job is that whatever people want to say, they can say it to me. I'm not going to make them say anything. Unless they're big, mean, bad guys. And you're not a big, mean, bad guy." Yet for most of the book Sarah S. has been trying to get Dan to "open up." On 195 she says "if I can get him to embrace some of the uncertainty..." It's almost as though a denial of the manipulation and agenda-pushing side of journalism is essential for the book even as readers witness this occurring. On page 230 Sarah S. actually talks about how someone changed in a "good story" and she is upset that she hasn't seen that happen with Dan. Dan's opinions are complex and have been from the beginning, and yet Sarah S. still has comments she wants to hear from him. On 240 she makes it clear that she wants to see him change. Apparently he can't just have his own feelings and thoughts: they have to be worth something on paper. Does Glidden not see this? Or does she not see pointing this out as part of her role as supposed journalist of the journalists? Personally, I think Dan is right to question whether Sarah S. wants him to take personal responsibility for the war because at times she really seems to be driving at that. I wonder if Glidden's point was just to record? If so, then she succeeds because I came away from this book with less respect for Sarah S, and that's likely tricky for Glidden's conscience as a friend. We may disagree with Dan, but trying to force an experience to change his mind does not seem like ethical journalism to me. Recording that experience in a book on journalism really makes me question Glidden's role. That question, however, I find compelling.
It's as though there are parallel narratives of denial. Sarah S. keeps saying Dan is hiding how traumatized he is from war and Glidden keeps saying Dan isn't her subject yet 2/3 of the book is about him and Sarah S's interviews with him. There is one page of Sarah S. acknowledging her conduct and then quickly justifying it because "most of my peers don't even engage with any of this stuff at all" (280). I seriously question her detachment in the last line of the book.
Ultimately, I feel the same way about this book as I do about Eve Ensler's Vagina Monologues: there are significant problems with voice, privilege, and missing narratives, but it's a useful introduction for people new to the discourse.
I do have to say that I love Glidden's watercolours and even with my reservations, I would read her work again. It's courageous to portray your friends in a harsh but likely revealing light. I think that I read this as narrative non-fiction and I just really did not like or respect the protagonist Sarah S. Glidden's refrain sums up my experience of this book: "it's complicated."
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
October 6, 2017
Follows Glidden's journey with journalist friends of hers to the Middle East.
It's fascinating to read about the journalistic processes of this up-and-coming group of reporters. How do they function as independent journalists? How do they formulate and choose their stories?
This follows one story-gathering trip from an outsiders perspective, so it was very accessible. I was particularly intrigued with the way technology influenced their methods - YouTube, the internet, recorders. There's a lot of gear here. Glidden also discusses what journalism is, ethics, and boundaries within the profession.
We meet a military veteran who accompanied them - he was a friend of one of the reporters. Watching how the group interacted and that part of the story develop was really interesting too.
There are definitely no solutions here.
But reflecting on the experience of reading it reminds me how many of our fingers in the world we amerikans are neglecting while we deal with all the turmoil at home.
I read this on my breaks at work - it does well in that context (read over a fairly long period of time, in short snatches), kind of like an NPR podcast. It's also bound in hard cover, and has a high quality binding, which holds up well. Yay Drawn & Quarterly!
Extra star for the unique elements in the story.
Read with:
It's fascinating to read about the journalistic processes of this up-and-coming group of reporters. How do they function as independent journalists? How do they formulate and choose their stories?
This follows one story-gathering trip from an outsiders perspective, so it was very accessible. I was particularly intrigued with the way technology influenced their methods - YouTube, the internet, recorders. There's a lot of gear here. Glidden also discusses what journalism is, ethics, and boundaries within the profession.
We meet a military veteran who accompanied them - he was a friend of one of the reporters. Watching how the group interacted and that part of the story develop was really interesting too.
There are definitely no solutions here.
But reflecting on the experience of reading it reminds me how many of our fingers in the world we amerikans are neglecting while we deal with all the turmoil at home.
I read this on my breaks at work - it does well in that context (read over a fairly long period of time, in short snatches), kind of like an NPR podcast. It's also bound in hard cover, and has a high quality binding, which holds up well. Yay Drawn & Quarterly!
Extra star for the unique elements in the story.
Read with:
December 10, 2016
What is journalism? How are stories retold? Where do memory and truth meet? These are some of the questions explored in this wonderful graphic nonfiction book. This is timely read for our times, when there are unprecedented numbers of refugees and displaced people on the planet.
The author is not a journalist, but goes along with two journalist friends and a former Marine, as they travel around Turkey, Iraq, and Syria trying to understand the effects of the Iraq War on the people who lived in the region. This book is an exploration of the questions above. The muted watercolor art is lovely and works really well.
The death of mainstream journalism is not news to anyone, and I for one am much heartened to see that there are still people who work hard at telling stories that affect, and should matter to, all of us.
The author is not a journalist, but goes along with two journalist friends and a former Marine, as they travel around Turkey, Iraq, and Syria trying to understand the effects of the Iraq War on the people who lived in the region. This book is an exploration of the questions above. The muted watercolor art is lovely and works really well.
The death of mainstream journalism is not news to anyone, and I for one am much heartened to see that there are still people who work hard at telling stories that affect, and should matter to, all of us.
February 7, 2017
4.5 Oh how I long for half star increments!!!
More later... this is complicated and important
More later... this is complicated and important
April 13, 2017
The stories of this book all take place during a 2010 trip to Turkey, Iraq, and Syria - when Syria was the most stable of the places the group visits. American military invasion in Iraq is the central backdrop; it's really a book about how journalism is done, plus struggles with what the US has wrought in the Middle East. The main characters are a group of white American journalists and a vet who served in Iraq. Most of the action of the book are interviews and conversations, with only a little exploration of the cities. There's a lot of very compelling meta stuff about journalism and representation, with just the tip of the iceberg emerging around the conflicts in the region. If you want more about the political situation, this is not the right book. If you want to think more about journalism in conflict zones, I really recommend (also a graphic novel) and .
November 15, 2016
This was quite good. Glidden accompanied a few friends, Sarah, Alex, and Jessica--who formed their own journalism collective--on a trip to Turkey, Syria, and Iraq to collect material for some stories dealing with the Iraq war and its aftermath. Also along on the trip is Dan, an American Iraq War veteran who wants to see how the country has changed in the intervening years. Sarah thinks there could be a story in his reactions and observations. At the core of the book is the basic question of what journalism is in the first place.
The book is brimming over with observed detail. Glidden recorded as much conversation as possible on the trip, and did her best to faithfully include as much actual dialogue as possible when creating this graphic novel. She includes annotations on specific panels where the dialogue is NOT from her original recordings or notes. Her style is deceptively simple. Unlike some comics journalsts--Joe Sacco, for instance--she doesn't double down on artistic detail, preferring more of a clear line approach. She has a very warm, inviting style using ink and watercolors. The reproduction in this book is good enough to see the texture of the paper her originals were created on--though I guess I shouldn't rule out some sort of digital effect. I read a lot of comics, but know comparatively little about specific artistic techniques; I just know this book looks gorgeous. My first reaction to her style was, "Syd Hoff!" though, really, her style isn't THAT minimal. It may have more to do with her coloring than the art per se.
I'm also apparently unable to read the title without hearing Adele singing, "Rolling in the Deep," in my head, so I'm kind of glad to be done with it so I won't be seeing the cover on the table next to my reading chair any more. ;-)
I really liked this book. I especially appreciated the insider's look at what goes into researching and developing a good piece of journalism. You can bet that I will be keeping an eye out for more Sarah Glidden books in the future. Highly recommended!
The book is brimming over with observed detail. Glidden recorded as much conversation as possible on the trip, and did her best to faithfully include as much actual dialogue as possible when creating this graphic novel. She includes annotations on specific panels where the dialogue is NOT from her original recordings or notes. Her style is deceptively simple. Unlike some comics journalsts--Joe Sacco, for instance--she doesn't double down on artistic detail, preferring more of a clear line approach. She has a very warm, inviting style using ink and watercolors. The reproduction in this book is good enough to see the texture of the paper her originals were created on--though I guess I shouldn't rule out some sort of digital effect. I read a lot of comics, but know comparatively little about specific artistic techniques; I just know this book looks gorgeous. My first reaction to her style was, "Syd Hoff!" though, really, her style isn't THAT minimal. It may have more to do with her coloring than the art per se.
I'm also apparently unable to read the title without hearing Adele singing, "Rolling in the Deep," in my head, so I'm kind of glad to be done with it so I won't be seeing the cover on the table next to my reading chair any more. ;-)
I really liked this book. I especially appreciated the insider's look at what goes into researching and developing a good piece of journalism. You can bet that I will be keeping an eye out for more Sarah Glidden books in the future. Highly recommended!
July 17, 2018
A cartoonist, two journalists, and a former Marine set off together for the Middle East, researching potential stories on the effects of the Iraq war. There are about a million questions and complexities that arise throughout. The current affairs kick to the gut is when they make a stop in a thriving Syria (2010) meeting and interviewing Iraqi refugees already living in a state of limbo, waiting for the green light to resettle and start a new life.
Rolling Blackouts has been both praised and slammed, sometimes in the same review. NYT cuts it pretty deep essentially calling it hip and naive, but then recognizes it's worth in the intimate storytelling we don't get in the news: the lives of real people. In an Interview with PRI Glidden talks about her work using non-fiction comics to "bring a real human connection and be a gateway drug to an issue for people." In the same interview Glidden shares a lesson we can all learn from, "You need to actually talk to someone before you think you know what their story is."
Rolling Blackouts has been both praised and slammed, sometimes in the same review. NYT cuts it pretty deep essentially calling it hip and naive, but then recognizes it's worth in the intimate storytelling we don't get in the news: the lives of real people. In an Interview with PRI Glidden talks about her work using non-fiction comics to "bring a real human connection and be a gateway drug to an issue for people." In the same interview Glidden shares a lesson we can all learn from, "You need to actually talk to someone before you think you know what their story is."
September 20, 2016
This book is a masterpiece. From the thoughtful storyline (I will be thinking about this book for a long time) and its important subjects to the beautiful, delicate artwork, I was completely won over. I hope it wins a Pulitzer.
July 18, 2018
Glidden is a huge talent. I thoroughly enjoyed the tastefully rendered watercolours, complex storytelling and her cross section of the refugee crisis, the art of journalism, and the effects of US military invasions in the Middle East.
Joe Sacco is a good reference point but I also think Guy DeLisle’s Middle East work has parallels. All 3 artists take enormous risks in telling their stories. They travel from distant lands to immerse themselves in a foreign culture that is both fascinating and complex.
Did I mention the gorgeous watercolours ? Maybe on par with Karl Stevens stuff although not as hyper realistic. But oh so very good. I loved the art. Great book.
Joe Sacco is a good reference point but I also think Guy DeLisle’s Middle East work has parallels. All 3 artists take enormous risks in telling their stories. They travel from distant lands to immerse themselves in a foreign culture that is both fascinating and complex.
Did I mention the gorgeous watercolours ? Maybe on par with Karl Stevens stuff although not as hyper realistic. But oh so very good. I loved the art. Great book.
November 17, 2016
'What is journalism?'. Sarah Glidden's latest graphic novel examines this question as it tells the story of Glidden, two friends of hers who are journalists and an ex-Marine on a trip through Turkey, Iraq and Syria. As potential stories are researched, and the impact of the American invasion of Iraq on the area is explored, Glidden also provides fascinating details on the journalistic profession and the challenges it faces. Highly recommended.
December 14, 2016
This is an engrossing look at journalism, the Middle East, the consequences of war and the refugee crisis. Glidden raises uncomfortable questions as she confronts the American reader with the people who have suffered the most and the least in the fallout of our invasion of Iraq. This work raises her to the level of cartoonist/journalist Joe Sacco in my book.
Read
April 29, 2020Never really captured my interest - I read through but did not feel engaged with the journalists and their story. Was hoping for more.
February 6, 2017
This is a beautiful book, some combination of travel journal, graphic documentary, investigative journalism, and essay on journalism as a form of media/communication. Glidden travels with a small group of reporters who are working to piece together an article/articles about the effects of the Iraq War in the Middle East, paricularly the experiences of refugees, Iraqi and Kurdish. Accompanying Sarah Glidden, Sarah Stuteville, Alex Stonehill (and sometimes Jessica Partnow) is Stueville's childhood friend Dan O'Brien, who fought as a Marine in the Iraqi War.
One of the most intriguing, challenging and disturbing parts of the book for me was the dynamic between Stuteville and O'Brien. Stuteville wanted, for her story, some kind of change in O'Brien's attitude toward the war, or his participation in it. He is unwilling to speak of his time in Iraq as traumatizing. He doesn't want a piece about him to turn into another "traumatized war vet" story he sees so often in the news. O'Brien is evasive and Stuteville is frustrated, but also, O'Brien is her childhood friend and she doesn't want to harm their friendship. Moreover, she doesn't want to steer the conversations in a certain direction for the sake of the story. She wants the story to unfold in a natural way. But in her mind, unless Dan, or his perspective, changes in some way, there is no story.
Glidden looks closely at the journalistic process of her companions and her own role as an artist, documentarian and storyteller. Here are some questions that arise in this book: Whose stories get told? Why do some stories get told and not others? If important stories are told journalistically, does that mean people will read them? What sells a story and what kind of important stories don't get told simply because they wouldn't sell? Can journalism improve the quality of life of suffering people (in this case refugees) by telling the truth about their circumstances, and if not, is it still worth trying to represent truths and histories that are not getting coverage elsewhere? Is emotional detachment an important part of the journalistic process, and if so, why?
I found this to be a very slow moving book and that was an interesting experience. I, like the reporters, didn't have a solid sense of where they were going next or where all their research would lead. I appreciate the mundane details of the journey and the conversations with all of the people they meet. The Kurdish cab driver and other Kurds who are happy for the U.S. intervention, as it stopped Saddam Hussein from torturing and killing them. But, they still face great challenges. Their living situations are difficult and unstable. She spends quite a bit of time telling the story of Sam and also the story of their struggles to make sense of his situation.
"The group meets many Iraqi and Kurdish refugees, including Sam, a Kurdish man who had served in the Iraqi army and deserted. When Saddam went in search of Kurdish deserters, Sam fled to Iran where his wife eventually committed suicide. He then took his baby daughter and went to Pakistan, which accepted him as a UN refugee. He remarried, had another child, and was approved for resettlement to Seattle, but when he applied for US citizenship after five years, he was deported because of what he called unjust accusations. His story has many holes—was he caught up in something he didn’t understand, was he used, or is he a terrorist? All he wants is to be reunited with his family, who are still in Seattle. Who is the bad guy here? This complex story, with no resolution, is one of several, and it illustrates the kind of story the reporters are seeking to place in context."
This is a slow story that acts in a way an antidote to mainstream journalism. She moves away from journalistic pressures to make stories as condensed and melodramatic as possible, to turn people into victims or villains, and lovingly focuses on the complex and the mundane. Not that the mundane for many people we come into contact with in this book, is manageable. But there is a humanizing quality to this story both in terms of the presence of complexity, the refusal to present subjects with a kind of exploitative symbolism. And I think as a reader I am forced to step back and look critically at my own desires to simplify these stories, or overlook them entirely as if they have nothing to do with me and my life here in the U.S.
One of the most intriguing, challenging and disturbing parts of the book for me was the dynamic between Stuteville and O'Brien. Stuteville wanted, for her story, some kind of change in O'Brien's attitude toward the war, or his participation in it. He is unwilling to speak of his time in Iraq as traumatizing. He doesn't want a piece about him to turn into another "traumatized war vet" story he sees so often in the news. O'Brien is evasive and Stuteville is frustrated, but also, O'Brien is her childhood friend and she doesn't want to harm their friendship. Moreover, she doesn't want to steer the conversations in a certain direction for the sake of the story. She wants the story to unfold in a natural way. But in her mind, unless Dan, or his perspective, changes in some way, there is no story.
Glidden looks closely at the journalistic process of her companions and her own role as an artist, documentarian and storyteller. Here are some questions that arise in this book: Whose stories get told? Why do some stories get told and not others? If important stories are told journalistically, does that mean people will read them? What sells a story and what kind of important stories don't get told simply because they wouldn't sell? Can journalism improve the quality of life of suffering people (in this case refugees) by telling the truth about their circumstances, and if not, is it still worth trying to represent truths and histories that are not getting coverage elsewhere? Is emotional detachment an important part of the journalistic process, and if so, why?
I found this to be a very slow moving book and that was an interesting experience. I, like the reporters, didn't have a solid sense of where they were going next or where all their research would lead. I appreciate the mundane details of the journey and the conversations with all of the people they meet. The Kurdish cab driver and other Kurds who are happy for the U.S. intervention, as it stopped Saddam Hussein from torturing and killing them. But, they still face great challenges. Their living situations are difficult and unstable. She spends quite a bit of time telling the story of Sam and also the story of their struggles to make sense of his situation.
"The group meets many Iraqi and Kurdish refugees, including Sam, a Kurdish man who had served in the Iraqi army and deserted. When Saddam went in search of Kurdish deserters, Sam fled to Iran where his wife eventually committed suicide. He then took his baby daughter and went to Pakistan, which accepted him as a UN refugee. He remarried, had another child, and was approved for resettlement to Seattle, but when he applied for US citizenship after five years, he was deported because of what he called unjust accusations. His story has many holes—was he caught up in something he didn’t understand, was he used, or is he a terrorist? All he wants is to be reunited with his family, who are still in Seattle. Who is the bad guy here? This complex story, with no resolution, is one of several, and it illustrates the kind of story the reporters are seeking to place in context."
This is a slow story that acts in a way an antidote to mainstream journalism. She moves away from journalistic pressures to make stories as condensed and melodramatic as possible, to turn people into victims or villains, and lovingly focuses on the complex and the mundane. Not that the mundane for many people we come into contact with in this book, is manageable. But there is a humanizing quality to this story both in terms of the presence of complexity, the refusal to present subjects with a kind of exploitative symbolism. And I think as a reader I am forced to step back and look critically at my own desires to simplify these stories, or overlook them entirely as if they have nothing to do with me and my life here in the U.S.
February 9, 2017
This is a really fascinating and important book. I think Glidden overreached a bit, and that her publisher did her a disservice by not reigning her in some, but this is still an amazing accomplishment.
Here's the setup: Glidden accompanies two journalist friends on a trip to the Middle East. The reporters are seeking out untold stories, like those of displaced Kurds in Iraq, Iranian refugees in Turkey, and Iraqis who fled to Syria. Glidden is there to investigate, essentially, how journalism works. They are joined by some acquaintances at various points on the trip, including an Iraq War veteran who is a childhood friend of one of the journalists.
Glidden recorded everything on the trip � hundreds and hundreds of hours of formal and casual interviews, conversations, stories, border crossings, nights out, nights in, ambient room tones, and on and on. The stories she and the journalists tell (check out the official versions on ) are, of course, harrowing, illuminating, devastating, and sometimes even uplifting. I can't imagine a more crucial moment to amplify the voices of refugees, the displaced, the extradited. Particularly for those whose knowledge of today's fractious, incredibly nuanced situation in the Middle East is lacking, Glidden provides historical context, current events leadups, and deeply moving tales. Those parts of the book are absolutely riveting.
She also spends a lot of time on herself and her friends. That makes sense, since this is not strictly a work of reportage but a sort of journalistic memoir hybrid. Much of this is also really interesting � picking apart the mechanics of how reporting gets done, how stories are selected and crafted, the endless behind-the-scenes discussions of what to tell and how to tell it. But a good deal of it also drags, and meanders, and repeats, and doubles back. The pacing of the book is pretty unbalanced; at first it seems like Glidden was intent on getting down every single minute of every single day, and the conversations are both more wide-ranging and somewhat more monotonous. As things proceed, especially toward the end of the trip, there are huge gaps and glosses, which makes it feel like she just wanted to be done with the thing already � understandable, of course, given its massive scope and the Sisyphean task she undertook to complete it.
One of the gals in my book club told us that Drawn & Quarterly doesn't believe in editing, allowing its writers full creative control over their output. That's a theoretically noble idea, but it reminds me of my hippie parents who, at first, didn't believe in punishing their children. Guess what happened? My sis and I were such tiny hellions that they eventually had to start in with some fucking discipline. By which I mean, although this book is an immense achievement, Sarah could have definitely used some guidance in shaping and honing such a sprawling, massive work.
If you'd like to hear about all this a little more coherently, another club member did a of the book for Hyperallergic.
And most importantly, here's what we ate at club, from hommade gougères to Italian truffles:
Here's the setup: Glidden accompanies two journalist friends on a trip to the Middle East. The reporters are seeking out untold stories, like those of displaced Kurds in Iraq, Iranian refugees in Turkey, and Iraqis who fled to Syria. Glidden is there to investigate, essentially, how journalism works. They are joined by some acquaintances at various points on the trip, including an Iraq War veteran who is a childhood friend of one of the journalists.
Glidden recorded everything on the trip � hundreds and hundreds of hours of formal and casual interviews, conversations, stories, border crossings, nights out, nights in, ambient room tones, and on and on. The stories she and the journalists tell (check out the official versions on ) are, of course, harrowing, illuminating, devastating, and sometimes even uplifting. I can't imagine a more crucial moment to amplify the voices of refugees, the displaced, the extradited. Particularly for those whose knowledge of today's fractious, incredibly nuanced situation in the Middle East is lacking, Glidden provides historical context, current events leadups, and deeply moving tales. Those parts of the book are absolutely riveting.
She also spends a lot of time on herself and her friends. That makes sense, since this is not strictly a work of reportage but a sort of journalistic memoir hybrid. Much of this is also really interesting � picking apart the mechanics of how reporting gets done, how stories are selected and crafted, the endless behind-the-scenes discussions of what to tell and how to tell it. But a good deal of it also drags, and meanders, and repeats, and doubles back. The pacing of the book is pretty unbalanced; at first it seems like Glidden was intent on getting down every single minute of every single day, and the conversations are both more wide-ranging and somewhat more monotonous. As things proceed, especially toward the end of the trip, there are huge gaps and glosses, which makes it feel like she just wanted to be done with the thing already � understandable, of course, given its massive scope and the Sisyphean task she undertook to complete it.
One of the gals in my book club told us that Drawn & Quarterly doesn't believe in editing, allowing its writers full creative control over their output. That's a theoretically noble idea, but it reminds me of my hippie parents who, at first, didn't believe in punishing their children. Guess what happened? My sis and I were such tiny hellions that they eventually had to start in with some fucking discipline. By which I mean, although this book is an immense achievement, Sarah could have definitely used some guidance in shaping and honing such a sprawling, massive work.
If you'd like to hear about all this a little more coherently, another club member did a of the book for Hyperallergic.
And most importantly, here's what we ate at club, from hommade gougères to Italian truffles:
December 5, 2016
Frankly, I had doubts about Sarah Glidden’s decision to use “comic panels� to tell the intriguing story of her visit to Turkey, Syria, and Iraq with her two journalist friends and a friend of theirs who just happened to have seen military action in Iraq as an American soldier. I have read two or three graphic novels and enjoyed the way that the panels added to the overall emotional impact of the novels, but Rolling Blackouts is my first experience with graphic nonfiction. I am happy to report that Glidden made it all work very well. Now I can’t decide which impresses me more, the sheer number of Glidden’s wonderful illustrations (I estimate there to be at least 2,500 of the comic panels) or the amount of information she packed into them.
Sarah Stuteville and Alex Stonehall, along with Jessica Partnow, created what Stuteville calls a “multimedia journalism collective� to cover the stories that the established news organizations never seemed to have time for, stories they never covered. The collective’s first venture was a six-month trip through Thailand, Cambodia, Pakistan, India, Israel, Palestine, Kazakhstan, and Kyrgyzstan where they covered almost thirty stories of their own choosing, stories that were often picked up by “news sites, magazines, and public radio stations.� Now, Sarah and Alex are embarking on a two-month venture into Turkey, Syria, and Iraq to speak with some of the people most affected by the Iraq War, those almost countless refugees forced to flee their homes because of the fighting. Sarah Glidden, armed only with a camera and a digital voice recorder, and Dan O’Brien, armed only with his memories of the Iraq War, join them.
Sarah Stuteville and Dan O’Brien were childhood friends who had not seen each other for a number of years. Stuteville expected that by returning to Iraq, the scene of his military service, her old friend would do the kind of deep soul-searching that would lend itself to a meaningful video documentary piece. What she found instead, and what deeply frustrated her, is that O’Brien simply refused to play that game. O’Brien figured out what she expected of him early on, and although he felt guilty about letting her down, he could never bring himself to discuss his experience in any meaningful way.
As the four young people cross various international borders, Glidden manages to illustrate a bit of each country’s history and political status. The group’s reception by the people they speak with and formally interview is exactly what one would hope for: friendly, but serious. The displaced people they approach are generally very willing (sometimes even eager) to speak with them despite the way they express anger at the U.S. government and blame America for the loss of homes, family members, and friends. Stuteville and Stonehall come home with the kind of stories they went looking for, but come to realize that journalism is not really about “changing things� and never was. According to Stuteville the important thing is to get the story “out there� and hope that it gets “passed along.� Then, according to her, “The way the reader uses that story to understand the world is up to them.�
Bottom Line: Rolling Blackouts manages to pack in more factual information than I expected from graphic nonfiction genre. It is more effective, however, when illustrating the emotions of the interviewer and those being interviewed. Sarah Glidden’s illustrations (she calls them “comics�) are truly wonderful and they greatly add to the book’s emotional impact on the reader. This one was a pleasant surprise.
Sarah Stuteville and Alex Stonehall, along with Jessica Partnow, created what Stuteville calls a “multimedia journalism collective� to cover the stories that the established news organizations never seemed to have time for, stories they never covered. The collective’s first venture was a six-month trip through Thailand, Cambodia, Pakistan, India, Israel, Palestine, Kazakhstan, and Kyrgyzstan where they covered almost thirty stories of their own choosing, stories that were often picked up by “news sites, magazines, and public radio stations.� Now, Sarah and Alex are embarking on a two-month venture into Turkey, Syria, and Iraq to speak with some of the people most affected by the Iraq War, those almost countless refugees forced to flee their homes because of the fighting. Sarah Glidden, armed only with a camera and a digital voice recorder, and Dan O’Brien, armed only with his memories of the Iraq War, join them.
Sarah Stuteville and Dan O’Brien were childhood friends who had not seen each other for a number of years. Stuteville expected that by returning to Iraq, the scene of his military service, her old friend would do the kind of deep soul-searching that would lend itself to a meaningful video documentary piece. What she found instead, and what deeply frustrated her, is that O’Brien simply refused to play that game. O’Brien figured out what she expected of him early on, and although he felt guilty about letting her down, he could never bring himself to discuss his experience in any meaningful way.
As the four young people cross various international borders, Glidden manages to illustrate a bit of each country’s history and political status. The group’s reception by the people they speak with and formally interview is exactly what one would hope for: friendly, but serious. The displaced people they approach are generally very willing (sometimes even eager) to speak with them despite the way they express anger at the U.S. government and blame America for the loss of homes, family members, and friends. Stuteville and Stonehall come home with the kind of stories they went looking for, but come to realize that journalism is not really about “changing things� and never was. According to Stuteville the important thing is to get the story “out there� and hope that it gets “passed along.� Then, according to her, “The way the reader uses that story to understand the world is up to them.�
Bottom Line: Rolling Blackouts manages to pack in more factual information than I expected from graphic nonfiction genre. It is more effective, however, when illustrating the emotions of the interviewer and those being interviewed. Sarah Glidden’s illustrations (she calls them “comics�) are truly wonderful and they greatly add to the book’s emotional impact on the reader. This one was a pleasant surprise.
August 7, 2017
It was exciting to know that a graphic novel covering the Middle Eastern conflict was coming out. When I opened the package, the hardcover edition and the watercolor panels further ramped up the excitement levels. But around a few pages into the work, realization struck that the work wont be ‘working� for me.
Glidden tags along to Turkey, Syria and Iraq with a few of her friends who had set up a media collective. Through the journey, she hoped to document the American intervention and the processes her pals adopted to cover their stories. While she has done a good job of these two things, what made the book fail for me was the fact that this is all that she managed to do. When panel after panel is all about characters whose lives changed due to the wars, American naivety in comprehending the horrors of the war and an introspection on the meaning of journalism, the reading can get tiring. Even after flipping 300 plus pages, one didn’t feel engaged to the world she tires with all sincerity to bring home. Could the fault lie in the bar set by Joe Sacco?
Glidden tags along to Turkey, Syria and Iraq with a few of her friends who had set up a media collective. Through the journey, she hoped to document the American intervention and the processes her pals adopted to cover their stories. While she has done a good job of these two things, what made the book fail for me was the fact that this is all that she managed to do. When panel after panel is all about characters whose lives changed due to the wars, American naivety in comprehending the horrors of the war and an introspection on the meaning of journalism, the reading can get tiring. Even after flipping 300 plus pages, one didn’t feel engaged to the world she tires with all sincerity to bring home. Could the fault lie in the bar set by Joe Sacco?
October 1, 2016
I have been a fan of Sarah Glidden since her first book on Israel and had been waiting for this book for the past 3 months. Read it from cover to cover in one sitting. Her constant hesitancy in approaching complex issues like the invasion of Iraq as an observer and assimilator instead of someone who holds a strong opinion is much like my own.
What makes the book even more intriguing is that this is not just comic journalism in a war-torn area like the books by Joe Sacco ; this is also a book on journalism and all its associated moral conundrums.
A must read. Will read it again and again like I did "60 days in Israel"
What makes the book even more intriguing is that this is not just comic journalism in a war-torn area like the books by Joe Sacco ; this is also a book on journalism and all its associated moral conundrums.
A must read. Will read it again and again like I did "60 days in Israel"
October 7, 2016
Even after decades of U.S. military involvement, the Middle East remains a mystery to many --- if not most --- people in the West. In , offers a work of meta-journalism that chronicles the experiences of a small band of reporters as they trek through areas many of us may never visit to gather the stories of individuals impacted by U.S. involvement in Middle Eastern affairs. The result is an intimate view of the journalistic process, accented with its own reporting on the lives of both journalists and their subjects.
Glidden accompanies her friends, co-founders of the journalism non-profit , to Turkey, Syria, and Iraq, but the stories they find reach further than that. Rolling Blackouts is peppered with stories of displaced persons in and from all manner of countries. An Iranian traveler converses with them for a while, and both parties wish the journalists could safely visit his country. An Iraqi couple, , have taken refuge in Syria, and dream of moving to Seattle. Then there's : a relentlessly cheerful man who was controversially deported after his name appeared in The 9/11 Commission Report.
The team does not travel halfway around the world to tell one story, but to source many. Seattle Globalist co-founder Sarah Stuteville has brought along an old high school friend, Dan, who did two tours of duty in Iraq. Dan vlogs and is interviewed several times over the course of Rolling Blackouts, about his experiences returning to the area and the reactions he receives from Iraqi civilians. Dan's reluctance to open up to Stuteville and the others serves as a pivotal conflict throughout Glidden's graphic novel. It is through his almost unbelievably naïve, hyper-pro-American interactions with the people he meets, that Rolling Blackouts gives its most critical look at the two faces of American occupation.
Intimate and slow, but never stagnant, Rolling Blackouts paints a touching portrait of a swath of the globe that remains resilient in the face of terror. Glidden's fresh-medium storytelling is not to be overlooked or underestimated.
I received a copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for this review.
November 6, 2017
Sarah Glidden's graphic novel, Rolling Blackouts is a book about the author traveling with journalists to document them documenting a story in the Middle East in the 21st century. She joins a crew of journalist friends who are bringing along a former soldier to document stories they found in Iraq and Syria. The team interviews many Iraqis and Kurds and There's a lot that I liked about this book I found at my library.
I like that it was both travelogue and an examination of regional issues. I love hearing about border crossing, running into random people and interviewing them. To me, meeting new cultures is one of the best parts of traveling. Glidden’s watercolors made me feel like I had already been there. The characters� images are made with such subtlety it’s really like revisiting a memory. The scenes she presents work to help you see some of the broader stories that don’t make the news.
I like how the novel shows a soldier who isn't suffering wildly from PTSD or generally negatively affected by the war. In fact, it sounded like he had some pretty good times. It's a potentially fraught narrative, especially when thinking about the impact that the war had on the population of Iraq.
The book examined the results for Iraqis of Iraq War. They spend a lot of time in Kurdistan talking with Kurds who have a chance at a better future. The interviews at a Syrian refugee camp were really illuminating. Refugees� stories are always heartbreaking, but hearing about the particulars make them so much more real. It's disappointing to hear about how refugees are so limited in their futures.
The only bit I was disappointed in was her thread of figuring out journalism. She set out a lofty goal and didn't address it to my satisfaction. She presents her figuring it out through discussions with her friends and I think she could have used some more of her own voice. That said, it didn’t detract much from the book. The whole thing was an exciting, fascinating look at a region I only know through headlines.
I like that it was both travelogue and an examination of regional issues. I love hearing about border crossing, running into random people and interviewing them. To me, meeting new cultures is one of the best parts of traveling. Glidden’s watercolors made me feel like I had already been there. The characters� images are made with such subtlety it’s really like revisiting a memory. The scenes she presents work to help you see some of the broader stories that don’t make the news.
I like how the novel shows a soldier who isn't suffering wildly from PTSD or generally negatively affected by the war. In fact, it sounded like he had some pretty good times. It's a potentially fraught narrative, especially when thinking about the impact that the war had on the population of Iraq.
The book examined the results for Iraqis of Iraq War. They spend a lot of time in Kurdistan talking with Kurds who have a chance at a better future. The interviews at a Syrian refugee camp were really illuminating. Refugees� stories are always heartbreaking, but hearing about the particulars make them so much more real. It's disappointing to hear about how refugees are so limited in their futures.
The only bit I was disappointed in was her thread of figuring out journalism. She set out a lofty goal and didn't address it to my satisfaction. She presents her figuring it out through discussions with her friends and I think she could have used some more of her own voice. That said, it didn’t detract much from the book. The whole thing was an exciting, fascinating look at a region I only know through headlines.
September 27, 2017
This was such a powerful read about interviewing the refugees in 2010, post-Iraq War; the graphic memoir format making it "easier" in a sense to process. It solidified the fact that I am SO ignorant of all that is going on, the different perspectives, the true effects of war, and how we (I) am in such a bubble living in America. I mean for the most part, we don't have to worry about Canada and Mexico attacking us. And if the states weren't united to make the USA, it'd give us a glimpse of what's going on (as in if they weren't united and then there was unrest, war, and violence. But, then... there IS unrest, just not "war". I learned a lot from this book about the crises happening overseas and how it DOES affect us... whether we realize it or not.
There were many anecdotes that were heartbreaking. One that comes to mind is (I forgot which country) a newlywed couple that didn't want to have children, who could be bombed/killed by America. Or the many displaced refugees who refuse to be resettled in the USA since why would they want to be resettled in the place that caused them to have to be resettled?
Or the fact that there are so many young people (roughly 18-35), a generation, of people who are refugees, without a home, and can't find work or go to school... so they're just there... and angry. Not the best combination... It's terrible. I hope that by reading this, and by others reading this, something can be done (I don't even know what...), that there is compassion and hope, even when it all is so real, raw, and heartwrenching.
There were many anecdotes that were heartbreaking. One that comes to mind is (I forgot which country) a newlywed couple that didn't want to have children, who could be bombed/killed by America. Or the many displaced refugees who refuse to be resettled in the USA since why would they want to be resettled in the place that caused them to have to be resettled?
Or the fact that there are so many young people (roughly 18-35), a generation, of people who are refugees, without a home, and can't find work or go to school... so they're just there... and angry. Not the best combination... It's terrible. I hope that by reading this, and by others reading this, something can be done (I don't even know what...), that there is compassion and hope, even when it all is so real, raw, and heartwrenching.
April 23, 2018
I was fascinated by Sarah Glidden's graphic nonfiction account of her time following a group of journalists as they chased stories in Turkey, Syria and Iraq. The extent to which the region was destabilized by the two invasions of Iraq is obvious. Of course there were some groups that benefited at the time but many more people lost their homes, livelihoods and even family members. The US and other invading forces believed that the middle class would rebuild a safe and independent Iraqi state but from what the journalists find, as much as 80% of these people did not feel safe enough to return and rebuild. The whole book becomes even more meaningful in light of the current civil war in Syria and one can imagine that the huge influx of Iraqi refugees from the wars would have been a significant contributing factor. The young journalists struggle with many issues as they select and shape the interviews that they record, among them war-guilt, and also choices involved in marketing the stories and developing angles that will sell. They have a true interest in helping people and bringing their stories to a wider audience but they know that their work rarely brings help to the individuals that they interview.
Rolling Blackouts
highlights a lot of complicated issues in journalism and aid work and presents it through a personal and authentic lens.
December 26, 2017
¿Existe la independencia en el periodismo? ¿Hasta qué punto un periodista debe involucrarse en la historia que desea contar? ¿Cuál es su función social? ¿Tiene sentido continuar contando una historia cuando los hechos la han dejado atrás? Sarah Glidden busca respuestas a estas y otras preguntas en este relato de su viaje a Iraq y Siria a finales de 2010 junto a dos periodistas y un veterano para realizar una serie de reportajes sobre las secuelas de la invasión de Iraq, la vida de los refugiados... desde perspectivas ajenas a los grandes medios de comunicación. Para ello teje un continuo narrativo donde la convivencia dentro del grupo, el viaje, tiene el mismo peso que las diferentes entrevistas entabladas, el objetivo. El resultado es un tebeo un poco denso y estático (un 3x3 sin ) pero muy bien llevado que invita a leerse en pequeñas dosis. No tanto porque muestre realidades sorpresivas como por las complicaciones que las preguntas anteriores van evidenciando.
Aunque en el manejo del medio Glidden se muestra todavía un poco verde, gustará a cualquiera que se haya devorado los tebeos de Joe Sacco.
Aunque en el manejo del medio Glidden se muestra todavía un poco verde, gustará a cualquiera que se haya devorado los tebeos de Joe Sacco.
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November 11, 2016"Sarah Glidden’s project is twofold: to try to define journalism on her travels as an observer and to record the human fallout of the Iraq War in the region. In 2010 she accompanied several journalists in the Seattle Globalist coalition, who wanted to cover stories ignored in the mainstream media, on a two-month trip to the Middle East in order to document their trip. Glidden is both documenting the trip and recording her own interactions—hence my sobriquet “docu/memoir.� As Sebastian Meyer, an American photojournalist they meet, says, “If you’re a good journalist with good ethics, you give it context. If taken out of context it would be incorrect, then you don’t tell it.� This discussion of journalistic ethics and practices runs throughout the texts and panels and is clearly the didactic thrust of the book." - Rita D. Jacobs
This book was reviewed in the November/December 2016 issue of World Literature Today magazine. Read the full review by visiting our website:
This book was reviewed in the November/December 2016 issue of World Literature Today magazine. Read the full review by visiting our website:
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