Although the first issue of “Birthright” achieves a riveting
narrative through its choice of moment and artwork, I found the issue’s
paratext to be the most interesting element in regards to how meaning is
created by this comic. The final page of the issue is juxtaposed against a
heart-felt note by Joshua Williamson, the comic’s creator and writer, which
basically expounds why this story
ought to be told, in lieu of the shortcomings of its genre.
Not only does the paratextual note have a reflexive effect on
the reader in terms of their much deeper understanding of the story’s stakes (in
regards to its treatment of its own genre), but they now also have a sense of the
authorial awareness present in the piece. Mathew Jones observes that “as a technique
and a strategy of both creation and consumption, reflexivity closes the
distance between the author and the audience… [and] promotes intimacy between
the creator and the consumer”. This closing of distance is exactly what Williamson achieves with
his note. The reader now treats the protagonist Mikey as an extension of
Williamson; Mikey can be seen as what Jones calls the “masked author”. But the
reader is now also invested in the concern that underlies the telling of this
story, and so understands that their focus should be on Mikey’s
re-appropriation to the real world, and not on his fantastical adventure in
another land, as would normally be the case in this genre.
The intimacy between Williamson and his reader is further
encouraged with Williamson’s acknowledgement that “this is the most work [he
has] ever put into a book”, and his expressed wish that he hopes his reader
agrees “that it’s all been worth it”. I personally leant the issue much more consideration, invested more of myself into a re-reading of
the story, once I realized that “to say that BIRTHRIGHT is a labor of love is
an understatement”.
In addition to the author’s note, there is another piece of paratext which has an interesting reflexive effect on the story:
This map is reminiscent of the author-drawn maps found at the
start of novels like The Lion, the Witch,
and the Wardrobe, and so this bit of paratext accomplishes what Jones
thinks is main role of reflexivity, which is the text’s calling “attention to
its own status as a fabrication” of the creator. The presence of this map in
the issue’s paratext, and the fact that it is depicted as though a child has
drawn it, has an interesting but illusive effect on the reader, since all other
characters in the story are in serious doubt about the existence of “Terrenos”,
and the map itself is labelled as “gibberish” when it is diegetically handled
by a detective:
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