The story of how the Brooklyn Bridge came to be is a fascinating one, full of unexpected elements. Weird homeopathy! Civil War heroics! Political scandal! But this graphic telling of that story, “The Bridge,” leaves a lot to be desired, sadly.
Written by Peter TomasiCover by DuVall
Illustrated by Sara DuVall
Colored by John Kalisz and Gabe Eltaeb
Lettered by Rob LeighMore than 130 years after its completion, the Brooklyn Bridge remains one of the most extraordinary landmarks and symbols of Brooklyn and New York City—and the story behind this architectural marvel is just as extraordinary.
The Brooklyn Bridge was originally designed by John Augustus Roebling, but it was his son, Washington, and his daughter-in-law, Emily, who oversaw the bridge’s construction. As work on the bridge went on, Washington developed caisson disease, leaving him bedridden for the majority of the bridge’s 14-year construction. Washington’s wife, Emily Roebling, took his place running the work site, deftly assuming the role of chief engineer, supervising the project and overseeing the workers, contractors, a hostile press, and greedy city politicians—an unusual position for a woman to take on at the time.
In this inspiring graphic novel, author Peter J. Tomasi and illustrator Sara Duvall show the building of the Brooklyn Bridge as it has never been seen before, and the marriage of the Roeblings—based on intellectual equality and mutual support—that made the construction of this iconic structure possible.
“The Bridge” begins as a family story about the Roeblings, specifically the relationship between father and son John and Washington, and their extraordinary minds and courage. There was enough in the first 15 or so pages to spin off into a really compelling story for either man, but especially young Washington. He is a clearly brilliant kid who goes on to be a hero for the Union in the Civil War, and eventually settles back into the family business of wire making.
Once the story of building the actual bridge begins, most of the character development in the story is over. Sure, we get a little of Washington’s troubled psyche, but that comes more from his illness than any real attempt to build up the character. There are precious few supporting characters in the story, aside from Emily, Washington’s wife, who get any real development at all. Sure, a few characters can be described by one word descriptions like ‘crooked’ or ‘loyal,’ but very few have any real agency or import to the story.
And that would be okay if the bridge itself took more of a central role, or if there was a reason to keep the story tight and claustrophobic, perhaps to mirror the conditions of building the underwater supports of the bridge. But that’s not the case here; the storytelling is light, which is not forgivable when there is so much story to tell here.
That is exacerbated by the art, which doesn’t fit the story well at all. DuVall’s artwork is clean and, at times, gorgeous, but feels fundamentally wrong for this story. The story is one of grit and perseverance, with detours for serious illness, war, familial strife, and true tragedy, yet the art doesn’t touch on any of that. Not only that, but there are so many moments of missed opportunity to take the art outside of the standard, rote story. When Wash is having fever dreams, there is no distinction of the break from reality. We never really get involved blueprints of the bridge. The underground sequences look like slightly darker versions of other scenes. The war scenes look like reenactments rather than actual battles.
A big part of that is due to the coloring by Eltaeb and Kalisz, who use the brightest, most cheerful hues to color the book. Their choices sometimes border on pop art, and feel totally out of place. Their palette matches DuVall’s artwork nicely, but pulls the story even further from its dramatic realism. This story, based on all that was lost building the bridge, should drip with pain and perseverance, instead comes off as slight.
There are so many missed storytelling opportunities here, and some of them appear like the lowest hanging fruit imaginable. Early in the book, we learn about John’s belief in ‘hydropathy,’ and the idea that water cures all. When Wash has a stomach ailment, John puts him through this absolutely bizarre ritual of hot water, cold sheets, and a concoction of water, charcoal, raw egg, and turpentine. His belief in hydropathy, in a roundabout way, eventually leads to his death. There is so much to be done with this story thread, and it’s just left on the table with little explanation.
Similarly, Wash’s illness from being exposed to the extreme atmospheric pressure of the bridge’s supports seems like an opportunity to go buckwild, but it is handled in a straightforward way. For a story where so much innovation happens, no innovation happens on the page.
And that’s the sad reality of the book:its is as by the numbers as you can get. Sure, there are nice layouts and well written scenes, but there’s nothing that takes a chance in this book and, from a team as talented as the one assembled here, that seems like a real waste.
