My brother’s room is my favourite place at home. I know it should be mine, but nothing is more refreshing than opening someone else’s door and entering into a completely alien territory, different in size, different in colour, different in windows, other views… and different in books. That’s actually the main reason why Ignacio’s room is such a peculiar oasis for me. Although my brother left home long ago, his fascinating comic library stays here, and slowly grows, fed every time he comes over by the small bag that fits inside the case of his bike. My brother may take away whatever home-made food he can scrounge up, but he always leaves his already read acquisitions neatly placed on some of his shelves, and for me, that’s more than a fair exchange.
‘My Father's Journal’ by Jiro Taniguchi was the most recent one. This precious stone, edited in 1998 has made me feel as delighted as it has left me touched. Childhood memories in a small Japanese town, the most recurrent topic of Jiro’s work, are masterfully projected from the perspective of a middle-aged man consumed by the alienating metropolis and his never-ending work. The elegance in the art of this comic and its delicate balance between silence and words builds a peaceful and at the same time deeply dramatic atmosphere in which melancholy spreads as clouds before a thunder storm.
To become reconciled with the past is one of the favourite subject of human procrastination. To look back in time, a sometimes painful move to start. But to fill up the gaps of our childhood is without a doubt one of the most enlightening experiences, only reachable already being adults. Taniguchi’s work oozes with sensibility, restraint and honesty, so I’ll have to thank my brother during his next visit for such a wonderful addition... I'll let him leave with the best peace of my birthday's cake.
