‘Susceptible’ by Geneviѐve Castrée

Reviewed by Rachel Carlson (originally posted Jan. 7, 2014)

Geneviѐve Castrée’s debut graphic novel Susceptible is aptly named as it chronicles the coming-of-age of Goglu, a child who too rapidly grows into adulthood. Goglu is subject to the vicissitudes of growing up with her young single mother, Amére (the feminine adjective for bitterness in French), who lives a paradoxical life of uncertainty, resourcefulness, and poor judgement. Goglu’s absent father, Tête d’Oeuf, is often as empty-headed as his name suggests. Finally, Goglu’s stepfather, Amer (the masculine adjective for bitterness in French), is a manipulative and mean-spirited parental figure. Overheard conversations and small acts of neglect shape a melancholy childhood of deep disappointment and accelerated maturation. With creativity and perseverance Goglu uses art, music, and friendship to survive her tumultuous childhood and negotiate her early adulthood.

Susceptible opens with a graphic sequence that explores the origins and development of Goglu’s struggle with depression and mental illness. Goglu develops from infancy to adulthood in tandem with a seedling that grows into a choking tangle of vines. Textually, this sequence explores the causal relationship between both genetics and environment and mental health: “I often think about what is innate and what is acquired. Are our genes ever a valid excuse? I wonder if it is possible for a sadness to be passed from one generation to the other…” Each graphic is exquisitely rendered to express a vast array of emotions on the part of Goglu; fear, shame, curiosity, disgust, sadness, and determination pass over her face as the vines entrap her.

Yet the sequence ends with an umbilical fracturing of Goglu from the wild garden encircling her: “I have pulled myself so far away from my family that it is almost like I don’t belong to it anymore.” Yet the vines are still visible beneath the skin of the young adult Goglu. Through this sequence Castrée initiates a metaphorical structure of cycles and circles that shape the story.

Several graphically and textually meaningful sequences in Susceptible use circles to communicate emotion. In one we are privy to a bird’s eye-view of a young Goglu sucking her thumb in bed and listening to a conversation between Amére and Amer. A circular frame delineates the scene as the unsettling words of the out-of-view adults encroach:

Amére: “…I would have been a physiotherapist. I would have been great at that…”

Amer: “You should have gotten an abortion, you had such a bright future!”

Amére: “What was I supposed to do? I was in the middle of nowhere, in the woods of Alberta! I     had no resources, nothing!”

Amer: “You still should have gotten an abortion.”

Castrée consistently evokes deeply complex childhood heartbreak in such exquisitely simple ways. Castrée also weaves this narrative thread into a circle when Goglu becomes pregnant at the age of seventeen and chooses to have an abortion with the help of her mother. Both instances of reproductive choice are subtly nuanced and work to complicate the notion of ‘choice’ and of motherhood. The choice to parent is tinged with sorrow and regret, while the choice to terminate pregnancy is one of great deliverance: “I faint after the abortion. That’s my style. The nurses slap my face repeatedly. Once I am able to get up and walk I thank everyone. I feel relief like never before in my life. I feel liberated, even though I am vomiting everywhere…” Paradoxically, Castrée creates a nascent feeling of emotional closure, while opening up a complex political narrative.

Indeed, Castrée explores many highly politicized subjects with understated elegance. In a single page Castrée explores the Montreal Massacre with painstaking detail and acumen. The fourteen victims of the Marc Lépine occupy most of the page; they are laid in bloody repose, some staring blankly in death with twisted limbs. Goglu’s mother does not answer her request to define feminism, but talks of ‘safe’ behaviours: “…anyway…we’ve started to lock our doors at home…even if we’re just going to the grocery store on the corner for a second…” In her characteristically subtle way, Castrée demonstrates the absurdity of women ‘locking their doors’ for safety against a man like Marc Lépine.

But Susceptible also demonstrates the gendered nature of poverty and the tendency of most people to blame mothers for their socio-economic status. When Amére and Goglu move in with Amer the graphic frames are no-longer characterized by sleeping mattresses without frames or box springs, rooms without furniture, or closets without clothing; indeed, one of their new homes includes an “above ground pool and a garden.” Goglu does not need to see herself to her bus stop because her mother must go to work before the bus arrives. Security in this instance comes with a high price as Amer is a manipulative and resentful parental figure.

The cyclical nature of his emotional and mental abuse is typified in a brilliant graphic that features an altercation between Amére, Goglu, and Amer that creates a circle of frames with an enraged Amer in the middle, each of his eyes separately trained on the two women. He screams: “No! We have to break her goddammit!!!” Economic hardship emerges on the fringes of the narrative too as Goglu notes that “I live alone with two accountants I no longer count on.”

Yet the story makes it difficult to sympathize with any of the adult figures in Goglu’s life. Amére frequently demonstrates the poor judgement and insecurity of youth. Drugs and alcohol are featured in the majority of the graphic frames. Tête d’Oeuf exposes Goglu to a pedophile after which he dismisses his actions noting that “I probably shouldn’t have let you sit next to him. He prefers little boys anyway.” Numerous counselors, psychologists, and psychiatrists also fail Goglu. One psychotherapist advises her to bite a towel when she is angry at Amer and she is thus taught to “get it all out without bothering anyone.” Indeed, she is often advised to be silent (as many young girls are) and non-disruptive, but silence is a detriment to her safety and well-being. In Goglu’s childhood trauma and neglect are demonstrative of the feminist adage that the ‘personal is political’; the damage done to Goglu is at once systemic (gendered poverty and violence) and familial (genetic pre-disposition to depression and mental illness).

Yet the narrative is also scattered with buoyant sequences. Goglu experiences happiness when she is able to attend day camp or when she is able to make art with the supplies that Tête d’Oeuf sends. Her father is rendered with great tenderness as he cares for his many cats. All of these scenes are without border as though the white space surrounding them is a beckoning to freedom. In the end, Goglu floats away into a circular frame, defying the borders by finding a vastness within them into which she disappears. Ultimately, Susceptible is a hopeful narrative as Castrée has finally broken her silence with this poignant fictional memoir.

Drawn & Quarterly | 80 pages |  $19.95 | cloth | ISBN # 9781770460881