Welcome to "What I Learned," a blog about reading that has helped my writing that Conor Gallagher has wroten. There might be spoilers, but I'll let you know!
Today, I learned: The Benefits of Scars, or The Perks of Torturing Children
Hi! Big news. I've loved this comic since it came out and now it's a Netflix show starring one of our great saviors Ellen Page and go give it a watch. Also, two volumes have been published---Apocalypse Suite and Dallas---so this little post is only going to focus on those two (obviously) but there may be more to learn in the future. Heck, who am I kidding. There will def be more to learn.
First, a quick recap in case you haven't taken the time.
At some point in the past that the comics does not specifically date in favor of labelling it as the same day Tusslin' Tom knocked out the space-squid from Rigel X-9 with an atomic flying elbow---or in what the TV show has decided is 1989---forty-three women gave birth all at once. None of them had been pregnant when the day first began.
Most of the above paragraph is directly copied from the source text but I rearranged the words so adding " " felt odd so instead, know that the whole paragraph was written by the creative team, minus the parts they disagree with.
Now, as is the case when an actual school bus load of children is born to mothers who were not expecting, something strange was going on. As far as we know, it's nothing quite so sinister as "Village of the Damned," but still, I'd argue it's worth investigating. And so would Sir Reginald Hargreeves, a.k.a The Monocle. This successful, reclusive and a bit curmudgeonly man of indeterminate age sought to collect---Yup, that's the word I chose---as many of the children as possible.
He found 7.
And so our story kicks off! The children all have a special ability (except Number 00.07) and good ole Reggie decides they must be trained to protect the planet and fight evil. So far, the Earth has been in danger of complete destruction once per volume (Issues 1-6 & 7-12), so I reckon he might be right. Unfortunately, this training comes at the cost of much happiness for the children. I'd argue the most touching story is that of Number 00.07, Vanya, though that could be because I also don't have superpowers. And I can't even play the violin. She can, btw.
Now, I'm going to be sure to focus exclusively on the comics from here on out because the show, as with any recreation, has a few different touches and blah blah, but just know an important consistency is that Reginald Hargreeves is a DICK! Okay, that's a simplification. Because he's many things, but I'd argue, most importantly, he's a really bad father. To be fair, he didn't ask to be a father. But then again, children never asked to be children so we all sort of have to manage the hand we're dealt. Some, better than others.
Which is kind of The Umbrella Academy's whole deal. Life is hard for everyone in their own way(s). It leaves us scarred and stronger. Hopefully, the inevitable hurts are little and we make it to adulthood without any serious baggage. Or at least baggage we can carry. Sir Reginald seems to belong to another school of thought. He views trauma as a necessary function of childhood, and moreover, as a tool that can be deployed for varying results. And I trust that all does sound a little technical, but we're dealing with a man who only numbered his children until the semi-android Mother figure he built for them insisted on giving them names...after a decade.
So if childhood trauma is nothing new, or at least something we can all recognize, what makes The Umbrella Academy different? A lot of things. We're talking English-speaking ape engineers, time travel, murderous Eiffel Towers, etc. But what makes it different in the way it handles scars?
Specificity.
Much like the sheer perfection that is Mike Flanagan's "The Haunting of Hill House," The Umbrella Academy takes the well-trodden but frequently enjoyable idea of "Rough Childhood Makes for Rough Adulthood" and cuts it into 7 different flavors of heartbreak. For a rough summary, by number, which makes me feel a bit like Sir Reginald (which we'll get to in a moment if I ever finish this never-ending sentence):
00.01 - Only feels valuable if the world is in danger, leading to a life unlived, unfulfilled and in constant stress
00.02 - Will never get out of 1's shadow, leading him further into isolation, making him sad(der)
00.03 - Only praised for her ability to be dishonest and her beauty, neither of which she enjoys much
00.04 - Clinically depressed and hears ghosts. Nuf' said
00.05 - Impatient, unloved and eventually stuck in a sad, violent isolation
00.06 - From what we're led to believe, too kind for this world. And now dead
00.07 - Never has there been a child so unloved and so oft reminded of her mediocrity
And now the fun part! A Buzzfeed quiz of which of these childhood traumas do YOU identify with?
Are you STRESSED/CONFUSED (00.01), NEVER GOOD ENOUGH (00.02), MISUNDERSTOOD (00.03), DEPRESSED (00.04), FEEL ALONE (00.05), SENSITIVE (00.06) or FEEL UNEXCEPTIONAL?
Of course you do. At least one of them, right? RIGHT?! Well, I know I have, and that's what makes the part about us being Sir Reginald so important.
Something else that The Umbrella Academy manages to accomplish is it instills a sense of voyeurism, that we too are our own versions of Sir Reginald, eager to test the children to see how they'll react. How they can conquer or succumb to the various traumas of their lives.
I think this desire has two origins, both focused on eliminating pain from our own lives.
First, we're happy to see something, anything, but ourselves suffering. Especially if it's in the ink and pen fantasies of a talented storyteller. The Academy's woes are far enough from reality that we can enjoy seven underloved children fighting off homicidal robots so that we don't have to...without a weight on the ole conscious. It's escapism.
Second, I think we want them to succeed. And we want them to do it while they're children. Stay with me, cause I think this part is extra important. When we're rooting for a young Number 00.03 to throttle a possessed Abraham Lincoln monument, we're rooting for ourselves. And how odd that is to type.
We need to see them win as children because then perhaps, we can rewrite our own stories as if we'd won way back then. And now, in adulthood, we can shape our lives around a self-edited fantasy.
By giving us both perspectives (the Academy as sad children and then sad adults), Way is giving us a fundamental truth we too often need to be reminded of: We will continue. We will grow up and maybe have some happiness or even thrive. And then, sure, the work isn't done. But we'll get there. All but the purest of us.
Pour some out for Number 00.06.
So that's what I learned from The Umbrella Academy: the importance of showing pain, and showing that it has repercussions. I think Way and Ba show in their work that violent pain---even that of children---can be useful without being exploitive. It can be thoughtful and productive. It can make you feel less alone. It can give you hope.
It can be a shield against the rain.
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If you liked what you just read, consider following me on twitter and instagram @conorsaidwhat. I post about writing stuff and make stupid jokes there. Hopefully soon I'll be able to tell you some book news!
I have loved these books since I read the first issue WAY back in 2008 and my little, oddball high school senior heart is swelling knowing that a bunch of new people will get to read them now. Because of the show. Not this post. I doubt I have that reach...yet.
Volumes 1 and 2---Apocalypse Suite and Dallas---are already out and Volume 3 is meant to be out this spring or summer? I think it's about The Hotel and my goodness you'll be just as excited as I am when you find out what that is.
Now, go! Read them and then talk to me about it until the end of time. You can use IndieBound to find your local shop. Or a library. Just not ~tHe RivEr~.
Sabriel is probably next but TBH I'm having a rough time getting through it. Fine. I'll commit. It's next. Until then, I leave you with
ONE FINAL DUMB OPINION:
It is GENIUS that Way and Ba chosen to number the children the way they have. Or, express the numbers that way.
Throughout the whole tale, the children are referred to by number, as in, "Number One" BUT when the names are written numerically, it's Number 00.01. AND WHY!?!
I thought it might be a math thing but I just added up all the numbers (43+42+41,etc) and the answer is 946 and while that has a few definitions in Numerology (I'm unfamiliar. Don't know if Gerard Way is), I think the sum is less pressing than the expression and that's to say, THEY'RE ALL LESS THAN ZERO.
To Sir Reginald, I mean. So even though Number One is his favorite and Number Two will always be second-best, they're all a bit worthless to Hargreeves. Number One isn't. He's one-hundredth of a one. Yikes.
The end.
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