Narrative Arcs in Jason's Hey, Wait...
This article explores the existing narrative arcs within Jason's Hey, Wait... by contextualizing a critical framework for stylistic and content interpretation that influence a possible perception of the text's constituent structure.
Narrative arcs, theorist Neil Cohn discusses in The Visual Language of Comics, exist as a “narrative grammar” in the graphic novel and comic genres that function as “visual sentence[s]” (70). Unlike sentences, though, “Arcs do not overtly mark their beginnings (such as with capital letters) or endings (such as with periods). […] Despite this lack of overt markings, readers can intuitively sense where these segments begin and end in an ongoing sequence” (70). Though I agree with his notion regarding this typical intuition we have as readers, I posit that our understanding of a narrative arc can individually shift based on each individual interpretation of the entirety of the visual language elements incorporated throughout a work. Cohn frequently advocates for our valuing of each aspect of a text in terms of how it contributes to form and meaning, thus our interpretation of these aspects—both isolated and when combined with others—also contributes to how we identify the narrative arcs.
In Jason’s graphic novel Hey, Wait…, my individual interpretation plays a substantial role in how I perceive the arcs presented. As an anthropomorphic work consumed with figurative meanings and a combination of surrealism and minimalism, the phase categories in each arc can be difficult to classify. To tackle this feat, I implement Cohn’s descriptors of each category (Figure 1) according to my interpretation of Jason’s intentions with content, style, and form.
Phase Category:
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Description:
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Orienter
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Provides superordinate
information, such as a setting
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Establisher
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Sets up an interaction
without acting upon it; provides referential information without engaging
characters in the actions or events; often involves a constant state or
process
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Initial
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Initiates the tension of
the narrative arc; often shows an inception or preparatory action that
culminate in the Peak
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Prolongation
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Marks a medial state of
extension, often the trajectory of a path
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Peak
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Marks the height of
narrative tension and point of maximal event structure; where the most
important events of the sequence occur; may contain change from one state to
another: i.e. an interruption or termination of a process or the culmination
of a growing event
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Release
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Releases the tension of the
interaction; provides narrative tension of the Peak, often as an outcome,
resolution, or reaction
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Refiner
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Repeats the information
shown in the prior panels with a different framing; alters the attention unit
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Figure 1: Cohn 70-84
Norwegian author John Arne Sæterøy, better known by his pseudonym Jason, creates his comics executing a unique style with anthropomorphic characters. Just as Hey, Wait… has already been labeled as a text demonstrating minimalism, his other texts follow suit. Jason himself comments in an interview with Newsarama:
"It’s a more minimalistic style, where it’s almost right on the edge of being boring. There can be poetry in those kinds of images. I like a writer like Hemingway who, at least in the early books, wrote in a very simple language. I like when things are left unsaid, when you have to fill out some of the pieces yourself."
Hey, Wait… offers a prime example of this idea of what is unsaid. Not only does Jason’s content at times exist “on the edge of being boring,” but the form contributes to this simplicity as well. When Jason discusses this boring edge, he speaks to much of the narrative that occurs, particularly in Part Two. In the article "Comics and Everyday Life: from Ennui to Contemplation," Greice Schneider provides background and comics’ uses of the recent focus on ordinary life. Regarding Jason’s Hey, Wait…, Schneider states:
"The sameness of everyday can also be employed as a strategy to stress, by contrast, the uniqueness of a given event. In Hey Wait…, Jason explores the dynamics of repetition and difference in order to emphasise how one episode in childhood – the tragic death of a friend – can resonate in the entire life of a character" (45).
The mundaneness or routineness evident in the latter part of Hey, Wait… that Jason illustrates in a repetitious, linear format instills a “reiteration of insignificance” (Schneider 45) directly due to the traumatic experience of Bjorn’s death.
Jason’s implementations of color, space, and page-layout contribute to this ordinariness as well. In this black-and-white illustration of routineness, the lack of color heightens the content’s depiction of Jon’s loss of meaning. Similarly, the substantial space present in Jason’s panels invokes a sense of nothingness. David Berry addresses this panel spacing in relation to Jason’s aforementioned comments on minimalism: “the space comes from the fact that Jason is an artist of silence, where lingering pauses and quiet glances suggest far more than anything his characters could say.”
In the panels that illustrate this usage of color and space, it is essential to also consider the structure of those panels. Cohn discusses the significance of page-layout on our overall understanding of a work (93), and of the possible formatting options, Jason employs a repetitive, consistent grid layout similar to Tommi Musturi’s The First Book of Hope (Schneider 53). In Hey, Wait…, each page includes six panels of very similar size, shape, and frame, and the placement of these sets of panels remains constant throughout the work. He himself defends his choice of utilizing a grid format:
"I like the structure of the grid. It gives each act the same weight. It’s up to each reader to decide which one is more important. It doesn’t look messy. It’s important for me that the page is readable, that it’s clear and hopefully appealing to the eye" (Newsarama interview).
In Hey, Wait…, the narrative could easily be as readable even if Jason had decided to create interruption panels, through shifting his page-layout, for a few of the major events. The deliberate choice to equally assign meaning to each panel through layout, however, contributes to the ordinariness the individual panels project. Schneider elaborates on the impact of such layout (though the term grid is replaced with another):
"Provided that rhythm is set through a dynamic of repetition and differentiation, the effect of angst and monotony can be stressed if the content inside the panels is repeated. The small variations can form a detailed breakdown [découpage], dividing a short period of time into as many panels as possible. The repetition of this mechanism over many pages helps to slow down the pace of the stories. Besides the level of the content, the page layout [mise en page] should, of course, not be underestimated. The repetition can be replicated, for example, by regularity in the size of the panels, or even more radically, by dividing the page into steady geometrically regular panels, recalling what Franquin called the ‘gaufrier’ [‘waffle iron’]" (53).
This grid or waffle-iron formatting approach not only influences our ability to individually decide which panels we value over another, but it controls the very pace at which we read the events. Each moment (or panel) visually relates to any other moment, but sometimes one panel’s content is signifying a drastic event or emotion. As Jason engages us in this format, he communicates a substantial juxtaposition: the layout suggests that one panel holds the same value as any other, and yet the content suggests just how significant a single moment can be. In Part Two of Hey, Wait…, Jon’s single, isolated moments mimic the idea projected by the format,—one moment has little to no value over another—but this is a direct response to a very significant moment—Bjorn’s death.
Shifting to the anthropomorphic and surrealist qualities of his works, Jason states in the same interview as above:
"I hope the reader forgets at some point that he is looking at cats and dogs, standing up and dressed as people, that in the end they are characters you can identify with and believe in. The animal characters are, in some strange way, more human and more universal."
As he mentions, his characters dress and behave as humans while their physical attributes mimic those of animals. Hey Wait… differs slightly from this comment, though, in that these characters do not appear to represent one particular animal, but rather a conflation of multiple animals—Andrew Arnold sees Jon as a “cross between a dog and a monkey,” and I can get easily get on board with that analysis. Arnold states in his article “A Life Missed:”
"[Jon] lives in a slightly odd, magical universe where a pterodactyl may swoop down and fly off with his kite to his mild surprise. Stilts are used instead of cars and sometimes Jon’s father lets him “drive it to the garage.” The characters all have the faces of animals, but not in any sort of realistic way."
In both anthropomorphic techniques—whether the animals are clearly depicted as a certain animal or not—characters share one specific common feature: their eyes are drawn as white empty circles. Eyes often act as a primary visualization of emotion in an image, yet even without detailed eyes, Jason’s drawings of eyes are still quite expressive. In a review of Jason’s works, Keith Frady asserts, “[Jason’s characters] share pupil-less, white circles for eyes. The first impression of these gaping whites is both haunting and disturbing, but Jason still manages to showcase a wide range of emotions with them.” I must second Frady’s impressions of this visual element.
Jason’s work similarities do not end with elements of style. From a thematic perspective, we can easily identify commonalities as well. Frady suggests in his review, “Lost Cat looks to be a somber meditation on the connections people make with each other, and what happens when that connection is severed.” Likewise, Hey, Wait… unravels the impact of severed personal connections through Jon’s significantly altered lifestyle after Bjorn’s passing. Resembling themes of William Blake, Jason creates the narrative Hey, Wait… about the loss of innocence through experience. Jon encounters a character repeatedly that could be interpreted as a form of a “Grim Reaper” (Figure 2), but this character—based on my interpretation—functions more as the embodiment of the Blakeian idea of experience. Jon’s loss of innocence and transition into experience occurs as a direct result of a tragic event. Not only does Jon essentially lose his innocence in the survivor’s guilt he feels in response to Bjorn’s death, but his transition into experience is also graphically illustrated with one sneeze (Figure 3).
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| Figure 3: Sneeze |
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| Figure 2: "Grim Reaper" Figure |
Narrative Arc Mapping
Often in my
attempts to map arcs within the graphic novel genre, I begin by identifying my
interpretation of a text’s most significant moment, or, the Peak. Once this
panel—or, possibly combination of panels—is identified, the other phase
categories become more apparent as a result. In Hey, Wait…, Bjorn’s death
is the critical point in the text because of how drastically it alters the
course of Jon’s life as he transitions between this innocence and experience.
As the critical point, then, I have created a map of the holistic narrative arc
utilizing this moment as the Peak. The following images illustrate the six
phase categories that create the work’s narrative arc (Figures 4-17).
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| Figure 4: Orienter |
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| Figure 5: Establisher |
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| Figure 6: Establisher |
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| Figure 7: Establisher |
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| Figure 8: Establisher |
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| Figure 9: Establisher |
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| Figure 10: Initial |
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| Figure 11: Initial |
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| Figure 12: Prolongation |
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| Figure 13: Prolongation |
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| Figure 14: Prolongation |
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| Figure 15: Prolongation |
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| Figure 16: Peak |
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| Figure 17: Release |
Though these images are all specifically labeled, there are other possibilities of identification based on other interpretations of the text, so I strive to communicate my reasoning for labeling them as such despite the definite potential for varying perspectives.
The Orienter image shown exists on the Part One introductory page prior to the beginning of the actual narration. Cohn’s typical Orienter contextualizes setting and location, but even with the presence of Bjorn and Jon in this image, we can recognize a crucial context. The tree in this image could easily be the same tree from which Bjorn eventually falls, and if this is Jason’s intention, he provides, here, the setting of the Peak. Even beyond simplistic location, the tree could potentially represent not only the events that occur on a/this tree, but also the type of relationship shared by Bjorn and Jon—they spend the beginning of the narrative doing typical childhood activities. Their presence high in the tree could provide context for the adventurous/joyful nature they possess before Bjorn’s death.
The several
Establisher images all depict a similar idea that is (possibly) contextualized
by the Orienter: Bjorn and Jon enjoy themselves by doing typical childhood
activities. They pull pranks, fly a kite, skip rocks, read comics, and pick
berries—and within this list, we, as readers, can easily relate with at least
one activity if not all of them. During these activities, Bjorn and Jon may be
“active,” but these panels provide referential information for the Peak: the
reason they inevitably attempt to jump to the tree branch is highlighted
through the constant adventurous/playful nature we see here in the Establishers.
The Initial images are labeled as such because Jon’s idea of this “test” to become a member of
their “Batman Fanclub” enables the true inception of the Peak. Jon devises a
test each potential member of their club must complete: jump from the cliff and
swing on the branch. Bjorn’s attempt of this test results in his death. I, as a
reader, do not hold Jon responsible for the result, but Jon himself feels
responsible for the tragic event that occurs in the Peak.
The
Prolongation images extend the inevitable Peak that I feared while reading the
narrative for the first time. These panels resemble that moment while watching
a film when I know something terrible is coming simply because the music
changes. Each of these
“scenes” prolongs the culmination of Bjorn’s death by keeping us placed in a
state that we (or, at least, I) hope not to leave because the feared outcome is
drawing closer. The inaction illustrated in the first image, followed by the "embodiment of experience" in the second image, the passing of Bjorn's note that states "Today," and the images of Bjorn's jump attempt together demonstrate this prolonged tension that we hope does not result in the way we expect.
Though I have
already mentioned that the Peak occurs in Bjorn’s death, I specifically find
the Peak category represented in the image included: six entirely black panels
immediately following the last Prolongation panel shown. In the narrative, the
only visuals on this page are these six black panels—no text, no character, no
setting; it’s just a page of blackness. Some, understandably, may argue that we
do not receive confirmation of Bjorn’s death until the funeral pages, but I
find the confirmation in these six black panels, and much of this
interpretation derives specifically from Jason’s style. Jason could have created
this page as all black—from corner to corner and edge to edge, he could have
illustrated a fully black page. If he were to do so, my interpretation would
easily shift: I would view the page as a signifier that Bjorn was injured in
his fall, but I would not necessarily view the blackness as death. Jason’s continuance of his grid
page-layout in this circumstance instills an idea that persists in the panels
this layout mimics—time exists, and the narrative continues, in the spaces between
the panels. Where one single black panel (or a whole black page) would, to me, signify
harm or injury, six black panels separated by space signifies time passing in
Bjorn’s absence. Thus, Jason creates an idea of permanence even in the midst of
nothing except black panels.
Each of the
panels in the Release image contribute to the holistic narrative’s Release. In
the first two panels, we learn of Jon’s emotional reaction to the Peak even
though this information may come from a separate character—Jon feels guilty for
Bjorn’s death. In the second and third panel, Jon sneezes, and we see a
physical change in his stature. Jon’s emotional state—his guilt—is a direct
reaction to Bjorn’s death (the Peak), and his growing is a direct reaction to the tragic experience as well as
his emotional state. The final three panels on the page seem to accentuate this
interpretation while the fifth also could suggest Jon’s awareness that now, he
is a changed person.
Interestingly,
each of these narrative arc categories occur in Hey, Wait… before Part Two even begins. I struggled with drawing
these conclusions at first merely because I felt as though I was shortchanging
the latter part of the narrative. Based on my interpretation, though, all of
Part Two functions as extensions of the Release. Jon’s routineness of life and
the loss of his ambitious/playful/adventurous spirit very clearly derives from
one experience—Bjorn’s death—and all that the experience entails: guilt, grief,
and burden.
Though I have mapped the narrative arc that exists for
the entire text, there is value in examining isolated narrative arcs as well so
that we can receive a closer look into Jason’s “visual sentences” (Cohn 70).
The following arc derives from Part One of Hey,
Wait…, and the images may be recognizable because the individually labeled
panels below were utilized together
as the Initial category in my holistic narrative arc (Figures 18-24).
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| Figure 18: Establisher |
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| Figure 19: Initial |
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| Figure 20: Prolongation |
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| Figure 21: Prolongation |
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| Figure 23: Peak |
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| Figure 22: Prolongation |
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| Figure 24: Release |
Beginning with an Establisher image (I do not think there is a specific Orienter), this panel signifies the “set up” of the action about to take place. Jon and Bjorn are in a somewhat “constant state” prior to Jon’s demonstration of the test their club members will be required to complete. The Initial image successfully “initiates the tension of the narrative arc” and “shows a preparatory action that culminates in the Peak.” In this panel, we see Jon preparing to jump in his crouched position with his arms back—we can easily identify this motion as an indicator that he will jump, but the panel does not yet show his jump. Jason then creates three panels of Prolongation to show the jump in process. We see Jon grab the branch, swing forward, and let go while swinging back towards the cliff. These panels offer a “trajectory of a path” in a few ways—they lead to his successful landing, they offer a literal illustration of the “path” Jon expects club members to take, and they represent the trajectory of what leads to Bjorn’s death.
The Peak image
shows Jon saying “There!” to Bjorn, and this acts as confirmation of his
successful landing. Intriguingly, Jason omits a panel in which we actually see Jon land. If such a panel had been
included, I probably would consider that moment the Peak, but in this instance
of possible deletion (Cohn 114), we identify Jon’s success
through his comment instead of through visual confirmation. This omission may
be deliberate to convey a particular interpretation of the event. Because of
the missing landing and thus the Peak existing as I have shown, I interpret
this Peak as further highlighting the guilt Jon eventually carries. It was not
simply Jon’s landing and Bjorn’s lack-there-of that elicits Jon’s guilt, but this
guilt derives from the implication of Jon’s “There!”—with this comment directed
specifically towards Bjorn, Jon instills a sense of necessity for repeating
this action in Bjorn which is illustrated Bjorn’s reaction that acts as the
Release image.
Mapping an arc in Part Two of Hey, Wait… seemed difficult at first due
to the lack of significant moments in Jon’s life. Despite his lack of meaning, though, we, as readers, still experience and
identify meaning. The following arc occurs on the second page of Part Two (Figures 25-30).
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| Figure 25: Orienter |
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| Figure 26: Establisher |
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| Figure 27: Establisher |
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| Figure 28: Establisher |
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| Figure 29: Initial |
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| Figure 30: Peak |
Though characters are present in the first panel, I still see its role as an Orienter. It provides setting information, and it instills a sense of context that we experience throughout the arc—the context being Jon’s new place as “one of many” and the idea of ordinariness. The next three panels on the page all function as Establishers as they further illuminate this context. The similarities between the three images dictate our understanding that these events occur as routine now for Jon, and though the setting in each slightly shifts, Jon is essentially still in a constant process of being another factor of the masses as they head to work as they do every day. The Initial image here may not initiate tension for Jon, but it does have that impact on the reader. Though the Establishers create a sense of monotony, this Initial—Jon approaching the building—leads us to the culmination of his mundane morning. This culmination, or the Peak, confirms our concern that Jon now lives a life he always said he did not want. The adventurous, playful tendencies of his youth and the ambitions for his future seem lost with the “KA-TCHK” of the time stamp.
Interestingly, though not surprisingly, I did not find a Prolongation or Release panel in this scene. These panels together embody the notion of Jon’s lost innocence through a literal and emotional experience—Bjorn’s death—as well as his place in the world of experience. A Prolongation would demonstrate a trajectory for a path, Jon no longer has a significant purpose or path. A Release would demonstrate tension or reaction, and though this scene may be an extension of the holistic narrative arc’s Release, for this particular moment Jon’s life lacks tension and reaction because it now consists of only routine and ordinariness.
The maps of narrative arcs included could easily be labeled differently, and that speaks to my previous assertion that these categories require individual interpretation of author content, form, and style. Jason’s minimalism illustrated through grid layout, page space, ordinary content, and color—as well as his inclusion of surrealistic qualities amongst this minimalism—directly impacts the way in which I read each particular panel. He effectively communicates his theme of lost innocence through experience through these deliberate style choices, and the evidence of his effectiveness becomes clear as I dissect the similarities between the holistic arc as opposed to the isolated arcs.
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