Review: Kings in Disguise

Kings in Disguise
Written by James Vance
Art by Dan Burr
Published by W.W. Norton & Company. $16.95 USD

It's strange that a graphic novel as good as this is has been out-of-print and relatively unknown and unremarked for over a decade. I remember it coming out, issue by issue, from Kitchen Sink Press, and while I wasn't a complete ignoramus and bought Kitchen Sink's reprints of The Spirit regularly, I never got around to getting this series. Even today, thankfully collected but from a publisher not known for graphic novels, and in a somewhat flimsy, no-frills package compared to the lavish productions of a publisher like Pantheon, it's still not quite getting its due. But to my mind, it's right up there with Maus and any of the other "must have" graphic novels.

It's a Depression-era story of a young man, Freddie Bloch, who leaves his home and finds himself riding the rails, a hobo. After all, when the familiarity of home is turned strange and uncomfortable by a father's alcoholism and the lack of regular food on the table, dreams of adventure or just plain escape will creep into any young man's mind.

Freddie soon finds a friend in The King of Spain, a kind but deeply wounded man who spins fanciful yarns about his alleged royalty status as a defense mechanism against the bitter reality of life on the bum, sleeping on flea-bitten roll-ups or in makeshift hobo cabins made from flattened tin cans, always in search of a bit of food, a bit of work, and maybe a place to wash up or sleep without being beaten by cops or others like you who have even less dignity and respect for their fellow man. In the story, which is adapted from Vance's play, Freddie sees the worst of humanity, from the chickenhawk pedophiles who want a piece of him, to the brutal policemen protecting the Ford Motor plant in Detroit from leftist protesters, to the casual or overt anti-Semitism he experiences as a young Jew. The King himself is not without his flaws, but he saves Freddie more than once, and when he suffers from what appears to be pneumonia or whooping cough, Freddie protects him the best he can, dragging him along and even procuring crude drugs for him to ease his pain, though it ends up robbing the King of some months of his memory.

Vance has carefully researched the period, and there are many small but poignant scenes depicting what a desperate time it was, how society was collapsing around them and encouraging the basest survival instincts, prejudices and hypocrisies. Burr is an unsung but essential collaborator, giving each scene just what it needs. His style is detailed but crisp and dry, never overly sentimental. The illusion of movement is not what he's after, nor does he spend time on symbolism or dramatic lighting. Each panel is a stark, singular image, a heartbreaking snapshot that can stand with the work of key artists of the era like Edward Hopper or Woody Guthrie. It's an immensely moving story of resilience and humanity.