Word: heuet
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...First covered by TIME.comix in 2001, when volume one appeared, you can see improvements even over that fine debut. Primarily Heuet has cut down on the prose and given us more to look at. His highly detailed costumes and backgrounds have the sumptuousness of a Merchant and Ivory movie. This book in particular, with its lovely views of the French seaside, provides much to please the eye. The pictures perfectly compliment the dreamy, poetic text. A typical line by the narrator sums up the pleasures of this book: "I was attempting to find beauty where I'd never thought...
...Unfortunately in Heuet's case, except for the most basic of emotions (happy, sad, surprised) his two-dots-and-two-squiggles faces aren't up to the task of expressing the subtleties of emotion present in a book based entirely on subtitles of emotion. Consequently, he relies on large chunks of text to supply the emotion. One page of eleven panels includes seven with all text...
...Proustian? The madeleine scene as adapted by Stéphane Heuet...
...arguments for and against a comicbook adaptation of this famously interior novel feel like two sides of the same coin. Heuet has translated all the rote action and, more important, all the visual aspects of the book into pictures. In some cases this comes in handy, as when Giotto's "Virtues and Vices" are invoked, or a bunch of asparagi are referred to with extreme detail. This version of "Remembrance," has been distilled down to its essence, concentrating its themes and aesthetic ambitions. And yet, one of those themes, the ability of art, and particularly literature, to evoke all things...
...what? As a crude American, I enjoy comix more for how well they entertain me, than for how much mileage I can get out of deconstructing them. I will leave that to the French. As a comic, regardless of its origins, Stéphane Heuet's "Remembrance of Things Past," makes for a fine read, evoking a lost world, not just of physical superficialities, but of the very thoughts of the time. I am sure even the book's harshest critics would agree that a little Proust is better than none...