Lion Forge’s Magnetic Collection adds another title to its growing roster in Tony Sandoval’s bizarre and beautiful “Watersnakes,” the story of a teen-aged girl and a group of female warriors from the sea who have been hiding in the teeth of a dead girl’s ghost…. Wait, what?
Written and Illustrated by Tony SandovalCover by Tony Sandoval
Translated by Lucas MarangonMila is a solitary teenager ready to put another boring summer vacation behind her until she meets Agnes, an adventurous girl who turns out to be a ghost. And not just a regular ghost, but one carrying the essence of an ancient fallen king and a mouth full of teeth that used to be his guardian warriors.
Three-time Eisner Award-nominated writer/artist Tony Sandoval presents a wondrous world of secret places and dreamlike magic hidden in the everyday corners of our sleeping imagination.
Lion Forge’s track record of quality for their Magnetic Collection remains unblemished, and Sandoval’s “Watersnakes” does nothing to damage their reputation for republishing gorgeous and gorgeously produced English translations of European graphic novels, this one originally published in France in 2014. Immediately, readers will be struck with the lush watercolors and delicate linework. Even if his figures look like more sophisticated relatives of Bil Keane’s Family Circus or more elaborate Funko Pops come to life with their oblong craniums teetering impossibly on their slight frames, they are undoubtably lovely and playful renderings that give the panels of “Watersnakes” an undeniable buoyancy and vitality. The posing of the figures are both natural and hyperreal. Each panel looks like a snapshot from a wonderful animated arthouse film, an observation that seems to be made quite often of European graphic novels. Every page is beautiful.
The story itself is hogwash, but again it’s beautiful hogwash. It starts out interestingly enough, and readers will likely be drawn into the awkward and endearing fledgling relationship between Mia and Agnes. By the first chapter’s end, however, the narrative and their relationship takes a turn from which it does not recover and the tone established in these weird and winsome opening pages shifts markedly. The remainder of the book reads like a patchwork narrative constructed around Sandoval’s subject matter interests. While doing a little research on Sandoval, an artist with whom I was not familiar, I quickly discovered that the figure style in “Watersnakes” and in fact many of the visual elements within the narrative are recurring elements in Sandoval’s recent work. Apparently, he is very fond of rendering young women with wide-set eyes and slender builds in fantastical and oftentimes nautical settings. I don’t think this knowledge or awareness detracts from the work in “Watersnakes,” but it is an interesting side note that he seems so drawn to these subject matters and specific representations. If anything, this narrow focus of interest serves this story well, as the narrative really runs on Sandoval’s perfectly crafted and sometimes brutally gruesome visuals rather than the obtuse plotline. Everything feels like it is of a piece and intentional even if the point of the story’s central plot is virtually undecipherable.
The organic and varied panel layouts contribute to the overall feeling that the piece is representative of a fevered dream of youth, even if it contains dreams within itself. It’s likely the best way to approach this work from Sandoval. Trying to piece together the divergent fantasy elements as occurring in any kind of reality or as anything approaching cohesive is an exercise in futility. “Watersnakes” is book that must be surrendered to for its sheer beauty and stylistic quirks as it doesn’t have an emotional hook. Seemingly important things are occurring throughout the books pages, but we’re not given reasons why we should care. Motives for actions are unclear. It’s a problematic aspect of the book but not altogether insurmountable when approached as a hallucination.
There are so many conflicting aesthetics at work here. From pastoral elegance to dark fantasy, it’s difficult to get one’s bearing within the narrative. The facial expressions are grounded in a kind of Bill Plympton elasticity and simplicity that add to the creative cornucopia. As the story draws to its conclusion, the proceedings get darker and more disturbing which is at odds with the lovingly rendered but exaggerated characters. The contrast creates even more unease but sadly no additional drama even as the story turns bloody. There are moments of true horror in the book’s final stanza, but the dark villains are given no real raison d’être. Readers share Mia’s confusion about what she is witnessing. Her participation in the story’s events are as uncertain as our reactions to it.
It’s a shame that the story told by these beautiful panels isn’t as stirring as the art itself. Even if it resonated half as much, “Watersnakes” would be a high water mark for Lion Forge’s Magnetic Collection catalog. As it is, it’s still a breathtaking and sumptuous visual treat. On its artistic merits alone, I can’t recommend it enough, but readers are advised to not only suspend their disbelief but to abandon all demands for storytelling logic. It’s worth the effort to do so, and maybe in doing so the book will connect on some subconscious level or pluck some deep-seeded heartstring that lay dormant in this reviewer.
