Aspects of a boy’s childhood as a complex social construct in comics

Introduction

The representation of boyhood by artists in the Western world of comics, who were creating in the shadow of the Second World War (WWII), reveals a significant departure from the norm of earlier years. The difference in how these comics constructed boyhood occurred within the context of societies struggling to adjust to new post-war perceptions of their world and humanity, alongside the unsettling impact of emerging digital technologies and the industrialization of the comic strip product (Eco, 1985: 1). These several factors also affected ongoing efforts of comic creators to have their art form taken seriously.

Charles Schultz and Art Spiegelman are probably the best known comic artists of this early post-WWII period while they also epitomize the change that took place in both the representation and therefore, perception of a boy’s childhood: readers/viewers of their comics appreciate how the protagonists of Charlie Brown in Peanuts and Mickey in Maus grapple with a variety of emotional and psychological challenges rather than the more traditional mischievous exploits and ‘heroic’ adventures. Most significant is how the internal conflicts that drive the storylines of the young male participants focus on the protagonists’ inner lives, instead of on their external actions or adventures.

This shift may also help to account for Stan Lee’s most successful creation, Spider-Man, first appearing in the early 1960s, but initially discouraged as it heralded the representation of a new ‘normal’ adolescent boy: this super hero also had to deal with the psychologically challenging complexities of growing up because he had ‘so many problems’ (Lee, 2007). Spider-Man occupies a space where the focus of a reader’s/viewer’s interest bridges a gap in comic strip story-telling; that is, the character of Spider-Man manages to engage the reader’s/viewer’s interest in a young male protagonist who is not simply performing extraordinary external/public feats accomplished by the more traditional comic book super action hero, ¹ but he is simultaneously grappling with inner/private dilemmas.

In this article I will concentrate on specific aspects of image–text relations whose combinations, as ‘integrations’ (Liu and O’Halloran, 2009: 382) serve to engage readers/viewers to attend to affect rather than behavior, as well as mental rather than material processes; this selection of image–text relations is exemplified by a patterning of ‘enclosed visual containers’ (Cohn, 2013), or ‘focus groups’ (Painter et al., 2013), where facial expressions and gaze as well as the content of speech/thought bubbles are the principal devices fine-tuned to offer insight into boys’ psychological and emotional predicaments. ‘Conceptual’ versus ‘narrative’ images (Kress and Van Leeuwen, 1990) may be presumed to dominate visual–verbal texts wherein participants’ feelings and social relations (Painter et al., 2013: 56) are the focus, while minimal variations in the trends by which comic artists deploy other interpersonal and compositional resources can suffice to drive storylines in different directions and, as a result, represent a boy’s childhood in a comic strip as a much more complex construct than it was construed in this art-form prior to and during WWII.

Methodology

I argue this shift in emphasis in the represented social construction of a boy’s childhood (Fass, 2007; Jenks, 1996), which propels the storylines in many comics during the first couple of decades after WWII, is achieved by a more marked use in deployment of particular interpersonal and compositional resources characteristic of comic artists’ techniques, so that it is the inner world of the conscious child that constitutes the drama, rather than the protagonist’s exploits. My argument utilizes a multi or bimodal analysis that draws on Halliday’s (1994[1985]) three meta-functions, as adapted by Kress and Van Leeuwen (1990) for images, as well as Cross (1998) who compared meaning in different sequential art formats, Martinec and Salway (2005) who proposed a system for image–text relations and Painter et al. (2013) who purposely applied a systematic approach to analyzing children’s picture books. Additionally, researchers such as Unsworth (2001, 2006), Royce (2007a, 2007b) and Liu and O’Halloran (2009) have embarked on the massive task of theorizing about, interrogating and systematizing resources, which describe how meaning is constructed at the intersection of image and language. Liu and O’Halloran (2009: 369) argue convincingly it is Intersemiotic Texture, realized through Intersemiotic Cohesion, that ‘is the crucial attribute of multisemiotic texts creating integration of words and pictures rather than a mere linkage between the two modes’. Bateman (2014), however, cautions wisely that ‘text–image combinations involve a range of unchartered territories whose complexities we are just beginning to discover’ (p. 49). He probes what it is about particular ‘lines of interpretation’ (p. 23) that guide particular readings/viewings.

Despite image–text relations still being an area of study in its infancy, by taking into consideration all the aforementioned complementary approaches, a viable theoretical framework, as well as a metalanguage, is nonetheless available to use as a resource for identifying and exploring patterns relating to how images and language work together in the sequential art of comics; the meaning of the patterns discussed in this article are derived from a necessarily modest sample and relate specifically to engagement and cohesion. This mini case study analysis has been inspired by the above-mentioned groundbreaking research, while it simultaneously incorporates McCloud’s (1994, 2000 and 2006, respectively) more detailed and pragmatic theory of understanding, reinventing and making comics, and in spite of Bateman (2014: 24) casting justifiable doubt on McCloud’s ‘forthrightness’ in making such sweeping statements as ‘in the world of comics, time and space are one and the same’ (emphasis in original). Last, Cohn’s (2013) examination of the multimodal interfaces between image and text has been invaluable as it applies to comics in particular.

In other words, the present case study draws on insights from systemic functional linguistics, social semiotics and the comic artist himself, in order to highlight how trends, utilizing different ways in which the two related modes of image and language interact, give rise to creation of new meanings, social constructions and perceptions. Moreover, although particular elements relating to image–language interaction have been selected and discussed separately, ‘meanings are always made simultaneously … and critical understanding of the interpretive possibilities of texts needs to be based on an integrative view of all … perspectives’ (Unsworth, 2006: 70).

McCloud’s applied method of analysis of image–language interaction is based on Eisner’s (2000[1985]) original concept of ‘sequential art’: Eisner conceived of sequential art as an artistic means of expression, as well as a distinct discipline with its own form, realized in its arrangement of images and words to tell a story or illustrate an idea. When sequential art takes the form of a comic strip that reappears regularly, then:

You could never grasp the poetic power … by reading only one or two or ten episodes: you must thoroughly understand the characters and the situations, for the grace, tenderness, and laughter are born only from the infinitely shifting repetition of the patterns, and from fidelity to the fundamental inspirations. They demand from the reader a continuous act of empathy, a participation in the inner warmth that pervades the events. (Eco, 1985: 2)

The enormous number of strips and episodes that need to be explored for a thorough investigation suggested that a case study could only be illuminating if it concentrated on a few key and well-known resources representative of several strips; hence, a limited set of famous comics, whose interpersonal and compositional elements highlight the significance of facial expressions and gaze, which include linked text in speech/thought bubbles, have been chosen.

Text is integral to the arrangement of image elements (Eisner, 1985: 122), and usually this becomes evident in the locutions that ‘are enclosed in speech bubbles and ideas in thought bubbles’ (Martinec and Salway, 2005: 350) although narrative caption-like text can also be significant. Words must be attended to in comics because there are various ways in which verbal texts are structurally and meaningfully related to images. Cohn (2013: 35) makes the point that in comics ‘speech balloons and thought bubbles are among the most recognizable visual signs of [the] visual language’ used and he maintains that these ‘enclosed graphic containers’ make it possible for text and image to interface with each other multimodally. Moreover, Cohn argues persuasively that the simple meanings conveyed by these bubbles and balloons, representing speech or thought, have deep ‘semantic richness’: the singular cohesive and meaningful units of text and image that result can be compared with speech and gesture. Further, children from the age of three years old have been shown to be able to understand that thought balloons contain intangible mental contents (Wellman et al., 1996, in Cohn, 2013: 48), while recursion in sequential images means readers/viewers are able to trace the source of speech and thought as well as make connections between action (whether inner or outer) that happens inside or outside a frame.

As mentioned earlier, the important shift in emphasis, from outer to inner, is marked by patterns in style that go beyond simply selecting a different kind of image and/or type of lexis. In comics, as in most other sequential art texts, there are numerous detailed choices involved within the two broad modes of image and text. A strong sense of place, for example, supplied by sketched-in ‘real’ world details is a significant part of world building, as are iconic characters whose gaze, or differences in the slope of lines above their eyes, can offer a reader/viewer access to subtle variations in their feelings. Choice of moment, frame and flow (McCloud, 2006: 37) are also extremely meaningful, while the final selection and arrangement of these options gives rise to an infinite variety of texts, stories and meanings. ‘In most great comics, [the] balance [between words and pictures] is a dynamic one. Sometimes words take the lead, sometimes pictures do’ (p. 128). McCloud describes comics as a ‘medium of fragments’ that the reader combines (p. 129) and so, as with other multimodal texts, the meaning resides not only in how artists combine these several modes, but also in how readers interpret this totality. When the combination involves new emphases in either image or text, and these emphases interact in a recognizable pattern, then new readings, new perceptions and new social constructions are realized.

In the third of his trilogy, McCloud (2006) demonstrates how comic illustrations have the ability to convey the full range of human emotions when artists modify the intensity of a line, shade, shape, size or combination of individually drawn facial features used to depict the six basic primaries of emotions. Varying the intensity can result in the depiction of ‘intermediate’ emotions, each of which carries its own specific meaning such as ‘aversion’ (less intense) or ‘revulsion’ (more intense) that can be plotted on a scale of ‘disgust’ (p. 84, see Figure 1a). Further, by mixing primaries, another distinct and third expression can be conveyed, such as ‘amazement’ from a combination of ‘joy’ and ‘surprise’ (p. 85, see Figure 1b).

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Figure 1a.

Image from McCloud (2006: 84).

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Figure 1b.

Image from McCloud (2006: 85).

However, emotions and thoughts are not only conveyed by our facial expressions, gaze and speech/thought bubbles; context is also paramount as are other non-verbal body language displays, such as, to mention only a few other critical elements, gestures, posture of participants, positioning of participants in relation to each other (Eisner, 1985: 101–102) as well as the shape, treatment and pacing of frames (p. 59) and the reader’s/viewer’s perspective (p. 89). All the above, and more, contribute to conveying sentiments and insight in sequential art. Nevertheless, for the purpose of the case study approach adopted in this article, the elements considered as the most significant ones for engaging readers/viewers, and facilitating their reading paths to follow a trail leading into interrogating the psychology of the hero, are facial expressions, gaze and speech/thought bubbles; it is shown that the comic artists analyzed in this case study have chosen these particular elements (consciously or not) from their enormous repertoire of techniques and made more sophisticated use of them than their artistic predecessors. As a result, these artists produced a much more complex and nuanced social construction of boyhood during the early post-WWII era of comic sequential texts.

The significance of facial expressions has been highlighted, irrespective of whether there is agreement about whether there are more or less than six (anger, disgust, fear, joy/happiness, sadness and surprise) distinct universal emotions (Ekman and Friesen, 1971); importantly, there is general agreement about the significance of at least a few basic human facial expressions that can potentially be universally recognized in communication of feelings. Assuming this, cinematographers and photographers, as well as sequential comic artists, often home in on facial expressions (especially in the close-up) when attempting to involve the reader/viewer in the inner worlds of their characters at any given moment. Painter et al. (2013: 56–57) refer to Kress and Van Leeuwen’s (1990) early classification of ‘conceptual’ images, commenting on how such image types serve to invite the reader/viewer to pause and contemplate the feelings of the participant. This classification is significant as regards the shift in how readers/viewers engaged with young male post-WWII heroes.

Analysis

For the purpose of illustrating how the social construction of boyhood morphed in comics after 1945, two post-WWII comics (Peanuts and Maus) will be compared with two pre- and during WWII comic heroes (Billy Bunter and Superboy), focusing specifically on how a more highly nuanced use of facial expressions and gaze (elements of the interpersonal metafunction) conjoin with text contained in speech and thought bubbles (elements of the compositional metafunction) to realize new types of storylines, perspectives and constructions.

Billy Bunter (see Kirkland Books of Kendal, 1984–2014) and Superboy (see Siegel and Shuster, 1945) predate the transition in comic art for boys: Billy is a schoolboy whose antics are used to provide comic relief as well as drive forward plots, while the original Superboy functioned as a prequel to the action-packed comics featuring Superman. These two comic heroes are used as pre- and during WWII examples, thus avoiding reference to characters in the very specific industry of Disney. The creators of Billy Bunter and Superboy (Hamilton, alias Richards, from the early 1900s to 1940 and Siegel, whose superhero debuted around the end of WWII in 1945) engaged their readers/viewers principally by crafting picture stories that depicted these boys full-length, indulging in adventures and high-spirited pranks or great exploits, frames predominantly characteristic of the ‘presentational’ or ‘narrative’ process style that distances the reader/viewer (Cross, 1998: 188). Depiction involving close-ups which necessarily entails emphasizing facial expressions and gaze, for example, were limited in range and so interest was maintained via movement, with diagonal lines, for instance, surrounding the flying Superboy and thereby emphasizing speed of action (see Figure 3). Further, the adventures that Billy and Superboy embarked on rarely delved into invisible realms where their artistic creators needed to concern themselves with addressing the psychological inner conflicts or journeys of their characters; challenges which are, nonetheless, also part of childhood and boyhood. In other words, the action-packed nature of storytelling in earlier sequential art comics, starring male child protagonists, was the dominant mode of storytelling; an imperative to dramatize the more problematic and complex nature of boys’ inner lives did not feature. The latter option only becomes evident in later comic creations.

Despite the immense potential of sequential art, my case study reveals that in the pre- and during WWII period artists tended to rely on a more limited range of permutations in regard to facial expressions, as well as gaze and other visual and verbal story-telling elements such as thought bubbles (resources used for the purposes of engagement and cohesion), in order to depict a largely static, formulaic and even simplistic perception of boys and the lives they led. For example, long shots (rather than close-ups, which engage the reader/viewer and invite him or her to pause and contemplate) of Billy Bunter abound and an abundant use of action lines (vectors) indicate the swift flying movements of Superboy, illustrating how readers’/viewers’ attention can be focused on observable actions (rather than invisible thoughts and emotions). Possibly the restricted and relatively rigid selection of dramatic exploits in the boys’ earlier years was a partly unconscious process, but it nevertheless reflected – and thereby implicitly endorsed – what members of various Western societies during that era expected of their boys, as well as what they should read. After WWII, however, comic representations of boys in the same Western democratic countries around the globe (the UK and USA, for example) veered towards an increasingly complex style of storytelling that employed a greater variety of facial expressions, direct gaze and thought bubbles which served to invite readers/viewers to contemplate, or at least consider, the inner thoughts and feelings of protagonists while simultaneously suggesting their thoughts were worthy of attention. The employment of such interpersonal elements involved the reader’s/viewer’s interest in what was not actually visible but was able to be alluded to. This was not simply a result of the development of the art form, or use of more sophisticated (digital) technology and tools, but also, I suggest, a consequence of different, deeper and more ambiguous perceptions of a boy’s childhood.

Even though the unique creation of the anti-hero Billy Bunter (née William George) created by Charles Hamilton, using the pseudonym of Frank Richards, attracted well-deserved fame, like his fellow schoolboys, Billy neither changes nor develops. Instead he remains the unattractive ‘plump chump’ with either a happy grin or open-mouthed expression of shock (see Figures 2 and 3), as his stock set of comical facial resources seen from afar, dramatizing how stupidly he persists in his greedy antics (as displayed in his perpetual search for food) that are always doomed to failure; nonetheless, these limited sets of trivial absurdities serve to drive forward the action plots in which he was initially just one of the boys. When describing ‘Boys’ Weeklies’, Orwell (1940) notes their ‘extraordinary, artificial, repetitive style’ and yet, in 1940 ‘nearly every boy who reads at all goes through a phase of reading one or more of them’ (emphasis in original). It can only be assumed that, as a consequence, the young English reading public of this era generally recognized ‘good’ boys as ‘good’, and ‘bad’ boys as ‘bad’, according to the standard binary socio-cultural norms of the time. More realistic nuances of character, employing a greater variety of engaging facial expressions and gazes, did not cloud the crystal-clear depictions of adventurous male child protagonists in these popular readers.

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Figure 2.

Frank Richards: Billy Bunter’s happy grin (Kirkland Books of Kendal, 1984–2014, Bunter the Bad Lad).

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Figure 3.

Frank Richards: Billy Bunter’s open-mouthed shock (Kirkland Books of Kendal, 1984–2014, Bunter the Bad Lad).

Similarly, the Superboy strips depict their action hero and savior in a distancing full-length frame; occasionally he might be voicing comforting instructions to the children he rescues, but rarely are thought bubbles (mental processes) used. What we witness is material processes in the form of movement, a notion often associated with ‘realism’ (Cross, 1998: 147). Further, Superboy’s facial expressions are usually restricted to a binary: determination to confront evil or satisfaction at having saved the day, in sharp contrast to his body which will be drawn in an array of action-packed positions, a regular ‘jumping jack’, his dramatic red cape flowing and speedy movement lines framing his appearances (see Figure 4). Vibrant primary colors (contrasting with the largely black and white drawings of Schultz and Speigelman) add to the overall impact of how this hero engages readers’/viewers’ attention; that is, through the dramatic distancing device of observing his fast movements full-length with the aid of vectors emphasizing his colorful movements. This is in lieu of a way of depicting him which may raise questions about what this hero could be thinking while he strives to meet enormous challenges that demand extremes of physical exertion. One implication is that he may not have time to think; he is a boy of action only.

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Figure 4.

Superboy (Siegel and Shuster, 1945).

Comparing the more modern character of Charlie Brown and his friends from Schultz’s Peanuts, the reader/viewer can see that although these characters’ features are also drawn using a repetitive and minimalistic cartoon style with a standard profile, face and body shape used to represent child characters in pre- and during WWII sequential art, the difference is that their facial expressions incorporate a greater diversity and hence, convey a much wider range of subtleties and variations when evoking emotions and thereby involving the reader/viewer in their psychology – a range of emotions that, I argue, is not visible in either Billy Bunter or Superboy. Importantly, Charlie, as well as each of the other children in Peanuts (Schultz, 2004, 2009[1961–1962]), is never depicted as a simplistic good or bad character, but as a much more complex and ambiguous creation. ‘Charlie Brown has been called the most sensitive child ever to appear in a comic strip, a figure capable of Shakespearean shifts of mood’ (Eco, 1985: 3). The noteworthy range of emotions and expressions the reader/viewer recognizes in Charlie’s face (see Figure 5) proceeds from anger or frustration to surprise, bewilderment and then often to an expression indicative of exasperation. This larger range in delicacy of expressions that fluctuate in intensity, simultaneously portray a complex interplay of what can be conflicting and perplexing emotions. Further, the direction in which a character gazes changes more often, so that not only does the character look at another participant in the frame, but he or she will also directly engage the reader/viewer. This is a qualitatively different direction of gaze from that seen in Superboy’s admirers, who all look toward him (rather than at each other or the reader/viewer); that is, somewhere just above or off the vector that includes the reader’s/viewer’s direct line of vision and these observers look in this same direction at the same moment in time. Their eyes do not meet each other’s. In general, pre- and during WWII, Western cartoon characters have a more limited range of facial expressions, while the direction and object of their gaze is also limited, not demanding that the reader/viewer even enter into an imaginary social relation with them (Kress and Van Leeuwen, 1990: 28); hence, the devices used in these earlier comics to engage other participants, or the reader/viewer, eschew deeper scrutiny or ‘real’ engagement.

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Figure 5.

Extract from a Peanuts cartoon (Schultz, 1961–1962: 90).

The cumulative effect of this restricted and superficial representation of the boy stars in earlier texts of sequential art contrasts sharply with ‘the poetry’ of the Peanuts group, and

arises from the fact that we find in them all the problems, all the sufferings of the adults, who remain offstage. These children affect us because in a certain sense they are monsters: they are the monstrous infantile reductions of all the neuroses of a modern citizen of industrial civilization. (Eco, 1995: 2)

Figure 6 from Charles Schulz’s Peanuts shows how speech balloons (cohesive elements) may now contain non-verbal internal information. Instead of words, these balloons use minimalistic punctuation marks to express a sense of emotion.

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Figure 6.

Balloons showing emotive information (Schultz, 2004). Peanuts Worldwide, LLC (Cohn, 2013: 39). Reproduced with permission.

Synthesis of how these key resources characterize, impact on and interact with each other creates highly nuanced multimodal and inter-semiotic meanings that cannot be ignored.

By limiting exemplification in this article to analysis of a few key elements, such as facial expressions, gaze and speech/thought bubbles, this mini case study exemplifies how the meaning communicated is qualitatively different from a sum of its parts. Reflecting on the different ways in which the male child protagonists in sequential art in early post-WWII texts engage and maintain their readers’/viewers’ attention and interest demonstrates that the socio-cultural construction of childhood represented in sequential art changed in kind after the boy heroes of post-WWII were created.

Spiegelman (2008[1972]) pays particular attention to subtleties in representation of the child. This is apparent in his creation of the young Mickey who makes his debut in the groundbreaking precursor to the graphic novel (the first to win a Pulitzer Prize in 1992) of Maus and this mini-text is crucial to my argument. The child (not adolescent) character of Mickey (as compared to Billy or Superboy who appear in the majority of frames in their strips) only appears in three frames of this three-page comic of Maus: the 2nd, 12th and 23rd, but he appears in close-ups. On the first page in the second frame, young Mickey can be seen settling down for one of his Poppa’s regular ‘bedtime stories about life in the old country during the war’ (see Figure 7) and it is the familiar bedtime story routine that contextualizes the first part of the text. Importantly though, this is not a narrative about a typical adventure at all. In fact, the whole notion of the bedtime story is subverted within the first dozen frames in the text; instead of a mythical tale being told of how a young hero encounters and survives several daunting and seriously testing challenges placed in his path, the story is a thinly disguised allegory of a survivor: a broken father-figure (the damaged teller of the tale). In the 22nd frame, there is a large close-up of the father wordlessly weeping, unable to tell more or finish the story for his son (see Figure 8), who nonetheless insightfully questions what happens to the rat that snitched on him [his Dad, ‘you’], thereby revealing that the boy, Mickey, knows the tale is not only about cats, mice and rats. Yet the young Mickey, despite the horror of the bedtime tale, seems capable of closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep. His apparent ability to ‘switch off’ occurs in spite of the worried, sideways look on Mickey’s face in the earlier frames: in the second (see Figure 7) and 21st (see Figure 8 – first on the left) frames, Mickey’s gaze is directed upwards and towards the left, to where his father sits, initially suggesting Mickey sees it as possible that recounting life in the old country will provide a feasible bedtime story. However, this possibility is effectively diminished by the 12th frame, as indicated by the downward lines at the top of Mickey’s eyes. No-one else is included in the direction of Mickey’s gaze in the 12th frame and, as a consequence, his father, as well as the reader/viewer, are left to wonder and make up their own minds about how well Mickey will be able to sleep that night, or indeed any subsequent nights, after having listened to/been subjected to this factual, not fictional, bedtime story ritual about a type of anti-hero rather than a heroic figure. The effective but ambiguous result of facial expression, gaze and speech (engagement and cohesion) is a psychological drama that draws the reader/viewer into a boy’s inner world.

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Figure 7.

Spiegelman (2008[1972]), 2nd frame.

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Figure 8.

Spiegelman (2008[1972]), 12th and 22nd-23rd frames.

Comparing the ever-present and salient figure of the cheeky Billy Bunter in his stories with that of Mickey’s minimal appearances in only a couple of frames reveals a divergence. Billy usually appears in an off-centre but full-length and salient position within the majority of the frames in the stories where he stars. In other words, the story is typically about the obvious antics of the young anti-hero, Billy, whom the reader/viewer observes from a distance, rather than about less obvious and personal responses to authority or relationships with another participant. Therefore, the action in Billy Bunter comics focuses principally on what Billy does, how he appears and on what he says. This focus of interest on action is evident in Superboy as well: how he repeatedly saves the day. On the other hand, events in Peanuts for Charlie Brown are extremely mundane so interest is ignited and maintained through focusing on how Charlie processes and responds to the everyday buffeting (by Lucy or cricket) permeating his life. This interest is engaged via a diverse use of facial expressions, gaze and an array of speech/thought bubbles. Similarly, Maus is not about what Mickey does, but about his being told a radical bedtime story that involves readers/viewers in the microscopic changes of how Mickey is depicted in close-ups, indirectly querying the import of his minimal non-verbal (eyebrow movement in images) or verbal (‘Golly!’) reactions to his father’s allegory.

The crucial difference in these two groups of examples of sequential art in comics, one created pre- and/or during WWII and the other after, involves the central issue of how the artists engage the interest of their readers/viewers: the former is concerned with the adventures a boy embarks on or what he does (regardless of the outcomes); the focus of interest in the latter is how a boy feels about and mentally processes what happens to himself and significant others. Unsworth and Clereigh (in Jewitt, 2009: 154) note that although the ‘meaning-making affordances of image and text are very different, they interact … in the construction of meaning’; discerning the shifts in construction of meaning requires close attention to minimal but systematic alterations in how the affordances in each of these modes are deployed.

Conclusion

The examples drawn from Schultz and Spiegelman encapsulate the changing way in which the social construction of a boy’s childhood was represented in the first few years and even decades after the end of WWII: his probable feelings, along with the inner workings of his mind and heart, receive more attention than the actions he actually performs. Charlie’s and Mickey’s faces are drawn using the stock trade of comic artists, lines and dots, as are Billy’s and Superboy’s. However, the full gamut of emotions, ranging from subtle differences between mischief, frustration and anger through to nonchalance, happiness, surprise, fear, sadness, fear and relief can be read on the faces of Charlie and Mickey as well as interpreted from their gazes and the expressions of those with whom they interact. The range is much more limited in the cases of Billy and Superboy. Moreover, Charlie and Mickey are unlike the characters in the ‘Boys’ Weeklies’ because Charlie and Mickey are not simply good (e.g. the most popular) or bad (e.g. the object of ridicule). Charlie’s adventures are ones of self-discovery; Mickey’s are a mysterious processing of war trauma; both involve readers/viewers in the complexity of a child’s inner world rather than action-oriented bravado. Further, the speech and thought bubbles, cohesively linked to the nuanced facial expressions of Charlie and Mickey, serve to emphasize how important the inner worlds of these boy protagonists are.

Although my analyses and comparisons have looked at a limited range of texts and multimodal elements in this case study approach to sequential art in comics, the differences that have emerged are significant (see Table 1). As McCloud commented back in 2000, the previous years ‘have yielded more friends of comics than ever before who are willing to aim high … and many of whom have hit their mark’, while manga and anime have possibly already achieved this goal. Comics are probably now on ‘the threshold of adulthood’ (p. 89), enjoying the enhancement and diversity provided by new digital tools as well as a new arena of action to explore. Therefore, in the 21st century, the future of sequential art in comics only seems likely to grow in its influence, especially as this ‘lower’ form of art is being increasingly utilized in education; it is therefore relevant to deploy an array of multimodal ways to approach, analyze and appreciate the new perspectives this changing and ever popular art form is offering by identifying its distinctive styles.

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Table 1.

Summary of key elements.

Pre- and during WWII	Ideational	Interpersonal	Words: cohesion via speech/ thought bubbles	Compositional	Page layout and formatting: relative size, position, etc.
	Narrative action	Image: facial expressions and gaze		Framing; full-length; close-up
Billy	Exploits; e.g. steals food but caught	Limited range: happy grin; open-mouthed surprise	Sounds: eating noises; e.g. ‘krunch’, ‘krack’	Full-length – distancing	Off-centre, salient position; repeated appearance in frames
Superboy	Dramatic action; e.g. flying and rescuing	Limited range: determination; satisfaction	Silence: boy of few words type; action hero	Full-length – distancing	Off-centre, salient position; repeated appearance in frames
Early on post-WWII
Charlie	Relationships and mental processes; e.g. teamwork and negotiation re everyday issues	Extended nuanced range: surprise, bewilderment and exasperation	Punctuation marks (non-verbal): contained in speech bubbles revealing emotions	Full-length – but with enlarged head shifting emphasis	Direct gaze engages r/v; facial expression closely positioned next to speech/thought bubbles
Mickey	Recount/story and listening; e.g. father’s bed-time tale	Extended nuanced range: worried; inscrutable	Telling lexis: ‘you’ vs ‘rat’ indicative of deeper understanding	Close-up – involving;sideward gaze/glance up at father	Minute variations; e.g. slant of eyes and eyebrows

In summary, as a result of subtle changes in how comic artists construed the drama in the lives of their boy creations, a significant development in representing boyhood transpired in the first few decades after WWII. This change was realized in storylines. Previously these emphasized the excitement of a boy’s childhood via escapades driven by dramatic action, mischievous deeds and daring exploits in which young male protagonists enthusiastically participated; later narrative meanings often portrayed a less eventful boyhood that engaged its readers/viewers (via facial expressions, gaze and explicit depiction of the thoughts/speech of the protagonists) with insights into more private and reflective action: this inner type of focus depicts qualitatively and substantially different psychological complications and dilemmas; in short, the inner turmoil of male children (and later, adolescents). Both subtle variation in the more frequent use of interpersonal (engagement) and compositional (conjunction of speech/thought bubbles) relations served the purposes of comic artists well shortly after WWII as they reoriented and refocused readers’/viewers’ attention on internal processes. The patterning of emphasis on these visual–verbal elements has been critical in contributing to the change in how a boy’s childhood was represented in comics published in the Western world for the generation growing up after the end of WWII. This change in emphasis continues to evolve and has immense significance for children and adults of both genders. As Kress and Van Leeuwen perceptively noted back in 1996, drawings and text are ‘not just “creative embellishment”; they are part of a “multimodally” conceived text, a semiotic interplay in which each mode, the verbal and the visual, is given a defined and equal role to play’ (p. 118).