When someone first recommended Blankets to me I was pretty skeptical. The cover notes it’s “an illustrated novel by Craig Thompson,” which, to me, meant one thing:It was a picture book masquerading as a novel.
Come on, I know I’m not the only one who looked at the comic books and graphic novel section and thought all the books in that category read like Dr. Seuss, only with racier pictures. I scoffed at the thought that a novel with that many illustrations could be thoughtful, insightful, and at sometimes be so painful I felt as if I had snatched someone’s diary and was secretly reading it under the blankets with a flashlight. A graphic novel should not feel so honest and raw, yet it resonated through me in an unsettling manner that still hits me every time I pick it up. A seemingly long book (582 pages) you will not put it down until it’s finished, and even then you will flip through the acknowledgements, hoping for just a little more.
