45 pages • 1 hour read
Lynda BarryA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
With candor, Barry investigates many traumatic moments from her childhood and traces the way they shaped her identity throughout her adolescence and into adulthood. Some experiences are powerfully and obviously damaging, while others are much smaller and subtler. Barry argues that all of these experiences can have a profound effect on the formation of the self.
The most central and enduring trauma Barry faces is abuse at the hands of her mother. Barry rarely portrays scenes of physical aggression directly, but regularly describes her mother as violent. Her portrait of her mother reflects Barry’s own fractured identity, full of moments that are impossible to forget whose effects the reader can clearly see but whose pure content has been repressed—for example, when her mother yells at her for drawing a picture for her teacher. Barry does tuck in many small moments of verbal abuse from her mother, often included under a somewhat unrelated reflection. Barry would rather approach the abuse, obliquely hiding it under other thoughts rather than portraying it center stage. This dramatizes the fracturing of her identity as she holds and presents two conflicting thoughts at the same time.
Barry describes this fracturing of identity more overtly in the difficult chapter where she alludes to, but doesn’t directly describe, a childhood sexual assault. Barry introduces the idea of the experience in a roundabout way, describing learning about sex in “harsh” (65) ways, but skipping over any detail about this means. Several times the memory threatens to materialize, but Barry forces herself to forget it. Only at the very end of the chapter does the reader see a panel showing a man offering to take a very young Barry and her doll for a ride; the implication is predation. This horrific event teaches Barry how to dissociate and repress whole parts of herself. Later, during her teenage years, when she acts out in dangerous ways, she seeks the thrill or temporary intimacy that will give her a feeling of wholeness, interrupting the pain of her fractured identity and bringing her into an embodied present, even if it hurts her or gets her into trouble.
Outside of these major traumas, Barry also experiences smaller hurts that impact her identity. A comment about her inability to dance introduces self-consciousness and body shame into her life. A comment about the smell of her house introduces her to the way her neighbors see her family as racially and culturally other. A bad drug trip makes her feel shame for her upbringing and earnest desire for intimacy. Barry probes these smaller moments with the same seriousness and profundity as the major ones, tracing how they shape her identity as a person and an artist too.
Across her many works, Barry frequently returns to the theme of creativity and explores its nature, its origins, and her changing relationship with it. In One! Hundred! Demons!, Barry takes a personal approach, exploring formative moments from her childhood and adolescence that have shaped and transformed her relationship with her creativity. Barry approaches creativity from multiple directions, focusing on moments when she felt her inherent imagination was lost, as well as experiences where she discovered some new outlet for her ideas.
A key moment where Barry loses access to creativity is the chapter in which she stops feeling comfortable dancing. As a young child, Barry dances all the time, in her house, in public, with her family, and with her friends. Dancing is deeply personal and fundamental to her family, where everyone from her grandmother to the baby dances, respecting the free, unorganized bodily movement. Everything changes when Barry meets another girl from the neighborhood who dances notably well. Already Barry is experiencing the beginnings of self-comparison, putting this girl in a place of authority and social rank, thus establishing an uneven power dynamic. When the girl says that Barry is a bad dancer, Barry suddenly experiences a burst of self-consciousness for the first time. The self-consciousness completely invades her perspective: She suddenly finds her hula teacher embarrassing and struggles to participate in class. At the same time, Barry begins to understand that being creative includes being perceived. Sharing your art with others opens you up to their judgment and your own; this moment of self-criticism is also the beginning of her developing her critical and artistic eye. In effect, Barry has broken out of a freeing childhood obliviousness and self-centeredness, and has gained the capacity to see that other people have full interiorities. This perverse maturity shows Barry how to understand others’ perspectives. However, the collateral damage of this new understanding is Barry’s lost ability to freely and unselfconsciously express herself through movement.
On the flipside, Barry also considers moments where creativity is discovered and given new resources to thrive. Barry refers several times to a kind teacher, Mrs. Lasene, who encourages her to draw when she is having trouble with the other kids. Mrs. Lasene reveals to Barry that art can be a place of refuge. Unlike dance, which is often public and communal, Barry can draw in a much more personal and intimate way. She can draw within the safety of her supportive relationship with her teacher. Here, judgment also exists, as Mrs. Lasene actively approves of Barry’s desire to create art and her ability to do so. Mrs. Lasene’s opinion counters that of Barry’s mother, who disparages Barry’s desire to draw. Judgment is thus shown to be a neutral force—helpful when it is constructive and empathic, harmful when used to denigrate or other.
Memoir is defined as a narrative composed of personal experience. Barry plays with the conventions of literary memoir by introducing hybridity to her autobiographical graphic novel. She blends reality and fiction in both the illustrations and the storytelling, and combines major life turns with small revelatory moments to more truthfully show the reader how her mind works with all its imagination, fantasy, and repression.
In Chapter 1, Barry invites the reader to directly consider what makes a book memoir versus fiction. The main distinction is factual: True events make a memoir and false events make fiction. Barry then implies that she is going to be diving into the gray area between truth and fiction. She demonstrates this in “Intro” by drawing actual demons emerging from her page and handing some of the narration off to a multi-eyed demon. The reader understands that these demons are metaphorical, but Barry draws them in the same style as the rest of the book, allowing these symbolic and imaginative beings to inhabit the same artistic space as the drawings depicting real events from her life. Barry goes on to draw other imagined entities like the fantastical Aswang, a legendary half-demon, half-woman vampire, and more realistic fantasies, like an imagined kid losing their stuffed panda at the airport. Through these fantastical additions, we see why Barry asks if a memoir has to be entirely true; while these passages are imagined, they communicate a truth about Barry and the way her mind works.
Barry also mashes together formative life events, drawing intimate connections between major paradigm-shifting events and less earth-shattering moments. Rather than focus on a single event or chronology, Barry organizes the chapters thematically, jumping between experiences to across time to trace their impacts on her developing identity and to find unities between herself as a child and as an adult. Barry demonstrates this hybridized structure in the chapter “Resilience,” which examines a traumatic childhood sexual assault Barry only alludes to and a seemingly unrelated love triangle experience in school. In the chapter, the narrator Barry often begins to recount the assault, and then represses the memory, demanding of herself that she forget about it. In the void left by this missing memory, Barry explores another: In middle school, she spills another girl’s sexual secrets to a boy she is interested in and the boy abandons her for the more sexually experienced girl. The intimate shame of this episode hurts Barry, but it’s more acceptable than the trauma of the assault—possibly because here, Barry is also doing something harmful to someone else, so she feels more in control of the betrayal. Introducing the assault obliquely by alluding to learning about sex in a harsh way before she was ready allows readers to see how this previous experience affects how she interacts with the boy. Barry both discusses and demonstrates the fracturing of her psyche, merging the narrative of trauma and the meta-narrative of repression into one.
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