I am beginning a steady hearting of the Thing that is the Graphic Novel. This week, I steadily heart Fun Home, a sort of bleak but really compelling memoir penned by one booky lesbian. Also, she can draw.

When I first started reading le novels graphique, or what have you and stuff, I found it hard not to judge the actual writing – it can be sort of, well, blah. But then I realized (and also, it was pointed out to me, le duh) that the words in the graphic novel LACK the sort of descriptive yum that I usually look for in my Bekah-ed idea of good prose – because it’s in the images, instead. This is really interesting to me – it’s like a completely different type of storytelling. I want to do one. Make one, rather. And one day, I will.