Shortcomings by Adrian Tomine

Shortcomings by Adrian Tomine was a welcome revelation for me, as the only graphic novel I chose to encounter in this course, and as a depiction of modern Asian American life during the twenty-first century. The graphic novel opens with a moment that defines the main character Ben Tanaka as a cynical, disillusioned narrator, critiquing the originality of an Asian American film festival, and uniquely showing the emotions of shame and bitterness involved in the conception of one's identity as distorted by the social conditions of America. One aspect that really caught my attention was the care taken to highlight the flaws of each character, not just Ben -- his bitter and deeply cynical perspective on the world also defines the characters populating the world around him. In his conversations it is more frequent that the negativity, tempers, and isolation hidden beneath the veneer of politically-correct race relations is more viscerally drawn than its opposite, as with the following snippet of dialogue:

Miko: "How would you like it if I were obsessed with pictures of big, muscular African-American men?" 

Ben: "Yeah, right...you reach for your pepper spray the minute you see a black guy walking towards you on the street!"

Beginning with a heady scene with Ben refusing to clap for the winning film at a local Asian American film festival, it becomes especially clear that the characters Tomine has chosen to portray are deeply assimilated into American society, or what their idea of America is, that may or may not be inaccurate and absorbent of all its worst traits. Some of the moments where Ben perpetuates the ideology of the surrounding society, essentially projecting the worst biases of the dominant viewpoint of white men onto his experiences and personal relationships, include his criticism of the film despite his low position in the industry as a theater manager and his conflicts over racial attraction with his girlfriend Miko, with whom he perpetually disengages, separates, and reconciles throughout the graphic novel and thousands of miles of geographical distance between the Bay Area and NYC. As their relationship simmers out Miko travels to the Asian American Independent Film Institute in New York for a four-month internship, and both explore alternate white romantic options, the interlinked relationships implode in simple yet intensely realistic and moving ways. 

The six characters of the graphic novel are drawn in profile on the title page, ordered by importance to the narrative, with brief descriptions for each that helps reader understanding and reduces the amount of exposition in the comic itself, causing it to appear as if realistic dialogue is this graphic's novel's priority as well as what it does best. As Ben commiserates with his lesbian friend Alice Kim and develops limerence for Autumn Phelps and Sasha Lenz, Miko embarks on a life of her own away from the growing conflicts between her and Ben and with a half-Jewish, half-Native American photographer. When Miko finally shuts Ben out physically and emotionally from her NYC apartment, calling him out on the depression, anger issues, and negativity she has observed, he appears to have matured in the story's final instant, when he rebukes Alice gently with potentially the first hint of empathy and understanding he has demonstrated, with a calm "we all have our reasons" phrase and departs back to the Bay Area in a solitary state. 

Significant moments as well as moments of departure are emphasized by a certain visual repetition in what is known as sequential art, particularly in the first departure and geographical separation while seeing Miko off to New York at Oakland Airport the ending scene portraying Ben's tumultuous emotional state where nothing changes between gutters except for the airplane window showing the shifting landscape outside as he takes flight. The comic vocabulary list provided with the course this week helped me learn many new terms about the art of graphic novels, which stoked my appreciation for the form -- the last time I encountered it was at leisure in bookstores during high school, not caring where I sat down on the beige carpet or how numb my calves became if I could visually suck in entire ATLA comics. 

Throughout, the book rings with a sharp sense of humor, but with the sensation like I was trying to hack up a piece of desiccated food stuck in my throat, ranging from the sardonic relatability of, yet typically unable to be voiced out loud in real life outside of private discussions, Ben's harsh film judgment, to the quote:

Alice: "If you hang out with her one more time and don't make a move, be prepared to be banished to neutered Asian friend territory forever! You might already be on your way..."

Ben: "Never! I shall never return to that horrible land again!" 

It becomes clear solely through dialogue that the novel is shirking a certain harmonious collectivism present in many Asians who adhere to the original culture and trading it for profanity-laced verbal sparring and acerbic observations true to the heart of liberal, coastal urban cities and potentially all following generations after immigration. The course of Ben's life is marked by casual reminders of the overarching attitudes of society, mired in revolving concepts of race and racism, and how they deeply impact him in ways beyond his imagination. His emotional turmoil manifests in quick criticisms that divide and repel his companions, and is achingly familiar to me even in real life individuals. 

The form of the graphic novel unexpectedly supports and buffets this unlikable, pessimistic narrator as the story covers near everyone's shortcomings (title drop) and artistically illuminates the modern condition of race relations in a way everyone can understand, the dynamics of Ben's closest relationships. Gender identity, cultural expectations, and racial prejudice are deftly handled, for example, through Alice Kim's tough-talking personality as a guide into untranslated Korean spaces as well as dubious lesbian parties, and the interaction of Miko and her white boyfriend marked by untranslated Japanese, all of which are remarked upon by Ben, near-primal in their immediacy, negative interpretations regular people understand in a visceral and choking sensation, but are afraid to say out loud.

The upcoming film adaptation by Randall Park seems perfectly poised to emphasize the cinematic quality of Shortcomings as a graphic novel with complex characters -- as Tomine says in this interview, stories promote empathy and that while exemplary characters may help fend off anti-Asian prejudice, complicated characters such as Ben help audiences understand the multifaced humanity of Asian Americans. The price of perfection is hollowness, apparently -- empathy seems to necessitate a careful, almost voyeuristic self-destruction, and I was glad that Tomine decided to share such an intimate portrayal of Asian American relationships with the public, and in such lifelike dialogue across the black and white.

These few weeks' readings:

Shortcomings by Adrian Tomine

Tropic of Orange by Karen Tei Yamashita

Skim by Mariko Tamaki

One! Hundred! Demons! by Lynda Barry 

Better Luck Tomorrow dir. Justin Lin

The Reluctant Fundamentalist by Mohsin Hamid

Vietnamerica: A Family’s Journey by GB Tran 

The Farewell dir. Lulu Wang

Crazy Rich Asians dir. Jon M. Chu

Citations

Tomine, Adrian. Shortcomings. London: Faber and Faber, 2007.