“You Can’t Just Kiss Anyone You Want” is fundamentally a book about sedition. Not the grand acts of empire-toppling revolution, but the quiet rebellions we all enact to keep ourselves sane. Things as simple as painting your nails, or trimming your mustache. It is a story about trying to find freedom in culture that will absolutely not tolerate deviation.
Written by Marzena SowaCover by
Illustrated by Sandrine RevelA little boy tries to kiss a little girl. No big deal. The little girl gets away and sends the little boy packing. Nothing more than an anecdote amongst many others of any normal childhood. But if this event takes place at school in a Socialist republic, half way through a propaganda movie, years before the wall is even showing the slightest sign of giving out… Well, it’s asking for trouble. This is the story of two children in a society in which paranoia and obsessive control mean that even the most innocent gesture can be blown completely out of proportion.
Unfolding in a series of short scenes, author Marzena Sowa’s story offers us a brief window into everyday life under the yolk of Soviet Era communism. We look in from the distinctly mundane perspective of Viktor, a young boy who gets in trouble after trying to kiss his friend Agata. This isn’t a story about revolution or shrugging off that yolk, but one finding small ways to be free. It is a version of these hardships that seems explicitly designed to be understood by children, while still resonating with older readers.
I’ve always been attracted to stories that treat children like adults. In my experience as an educator, I’ve always found that the pieces of literature that resonate most with my students, are those that don’t pull their punches. Sowa’s narrative doesn’t quite hit that target, but it’s clear that she was aiming for it. Viktor and his group of friends struggle with the ideas of indoctrination and ‘loyalty,’ and whether that loyalty is to your government or to your friends. Stories about these kinds of conflicts aren’t unusual, (see the films Machuca or Europa Europa) but Sowa’s personal experience with this kind of lifestyle brings an authenticity to “You Can’t Just Kiss Anyone You Want.”
Famous for her work on the autobiographical “Marzi,” Sowa’s struggles with being a lesbian in an intolerant country can be felt, both in the title of the book, and the vignette of Maria, the school teacher who is ‘disappeared’ towards the end of the book after her girlfriend is assaulted and raped off-camera. This authenticity also comes from the everyday way Sowa approaches the realities of living in a military dictatorship, such as the sequence that has Viktor encounter a woman trying to give a coat to her husband, who is being abducted by soldiers in front of her very eyes.
But in spite of these incredibly dark elements, the tone of the book is, by and large, much more grey than black. It is a collection of ways that we can buck authority and maintain our own internal compass, from the borderline treasonous writings of Viktor’s father, hidden away in the hollow leg of a chair, to Maria’s use of contraband nail polish, but only on her toes. These are small revolutions used to maintain the idea, if not the reality, of freedom. The darkness of the world they live in is obvious, but each character struggles to deal with it in their own way.
Sandrine Revel’s simple, cartooned style underlines the targets audience. Soft, bland backgrounds help the small splashes of color pop, highlighting the innocence and relative optimism of the children. At the same time, completely realistic propaganda posters dot the walls of the school and the streets of the unnamed town, standing in stark contrast to the cartoon style of the cast and reinforcing the historical reality of the book. There is a sense of isolation, reinforced by the rounded panels that distance us from the action. Revel excels at adding subtext through detail work on faces, one of the key elements in contrasting the ongoing themes of despair and isolation with the bleak hopefulness of Sowa’s storytelling.
Towards the end of the book, the children reenact a scene from a French comic. They don’t understand French, so they have filled in the dialogue with their own words, transforming a somewhat comedic ‘odd couple’ scene into a one of sedition, loyalty and the idea of the truth. It is a surprisingly powerful moment, touching on the ways that art can transcend culture and language and reminding older readers that children can see the harsh truths of the world just as well as adults. While they don’t always have the same tools to talk about these problems, or even the knowledge of how to deal with them, these kids are creating coping mechanisms and ways to confront that darkness.
There is a Korean word, ‘Han,’ that I always think about when I read stories like this. It cannot be translated directly, but contains the sense of a deep fundamental sadness associated with the oppression of life and the world around you. At the same time, it is also a hopefulness that you can outlast this oppression and achieve something meaningful. Ultimately, “You Can’t Just Kiss Anyone You Want” isn’t a groundbreaking story. The events that unfold, while strongly flavored with elements of the Soviet Republic, wouldn’t be uncommon in Mao’s China, Pinochet’s Chile or even Kim Jong-un’s North Korea. But I think that’s the point. We tell stories about dictatorships as warnings about the realities that form of government, but also as a guide. A beacon for people who find themselves this kind of country and need something, even if it is tiny, to remind themselves of their own truth. Sowa chose to write about the unique experience of children under the circumstances for a reason. I can only guess what that reason was, but I assume it sprung from her own experiences, and possibly a desire to provide something that she lacked when she was younger. A template for finding spring in the middle of winter.
