SPLASHES OF DARKNESS: PETER PAN

31/8/2021

The tension between reality and the imagination is the very backbone of the story, and is personified in the Peter/Pan dichotomy. (Pan exists already, you see; he's a separate being, plucked from the world’s imagination, leading the fairy folk.)

Comic-books are a medium, not a genre; they can tell any story and suit any palate. You want horror? I've got bottles of the stuff. Welcome to 'Splashes of Darkness.'

Peter Pan is a vivid, exotic-looking blend, artfully layered in a jaw-droppingly large glass, crammed full of fruity bits, gaudy sparklers and some viciously spiky umbrellas. This isn't some alcopop spritzed up for wide-eyed freshers with deep pockets, though - there's some serious, dark alchemical shit going on it there. The flavours wash over you in waves. There's sweetness for sure, but swirls of biting cruelty and horror too. Consume with care, and take your time.

Don’t even think about skipping this one. I know you’re rolling your eyes and muttering about ‘kids stuff’ but don’t be fooled. This is a labor of love that truly deserves your attention. The whole tale was written & illustrated by Regis Loisel – a multiple award-winning comics creator – between 1990 and 2004. Bizarrely, despite it’s universal acclaim for artistry and incisive themes, it has never been previously published in the UK. Soaring Penguin Press have done a spectacular job collecting together and translating the full run of this Peter Pan prequel, and it needs to go on your wishlist now.

It's clear from the first panel that Loisel has no interest in giving us a white-washed narrative: ‘London… cold, hunger and misery merge to set the scene…’ It’s a Dickensian nightmare. The houses are cramped, the streets are full of cynical, selfish people and all is awash in the ordure of poverty. Whilst it’s clear that they all suffer together, there is precious little sense of community. The Londoners prey upon each other like rats in a cobble-stoned coffin. The single factor connecting the adult world and that of the young is a gnawing hunger to escape.

So, we come to Peter, a ragged child holding forth to a group of orphans in a tiny yard. When we first meet him, his only magic lies in his words, transporting the children with marvelous stories of far away places and warming their hearts with the ‘words of tenderness’ he claims his mother whispers to him. (That damned harpy!) His struggle to maintain innocence in a tawdry world is heart-breaking, and renders the book firmly in the arena of adult reading, for reasons we’ll explore later. Loisel does an excellent job of portraying the darkness and terror of the adult world from a prepubescent perspective, in imagery, language and inference – laying down the psychological tracks that lead to Peter’s perpetual childhood in Neverland.

This is not a world for children.

If there is one thing that Peter Pan represents, it’s the joy of unfettered imagination, and Neverland fits him like a glove. I was surprised by how much I dreaded this flight to Barrie's fanciful realm after the revelations of the opening volume – and the tonal shift is pretty sudden – but it doesn’t take Loisel long to find his balance. His artwork is always high quality, but the flames of his creativity burn brightest in

Neverland. The island is brought vividly to life, in all its contradictions: blending Greek mythology, fairy tale, stories of the blood-red waves and the Wild West; and I fell in love with it again for the first time since my own childhood.

The character design is fabulous throughout: from Hook’s haggard and be-stubbled face to Peter’s gap-toothed grin, while the Lost Boys have never looked wilder. The pirates’ attempts to steal the fairy treasure (and latterly exact revenge on poor Peter) is perhaps the one weak point of the story. It suffers from the same malaise as Barrie’s original: outlandish ploys and schoolboy tactics. That said, Hook is a formidable, terrifying bully when roused, representing as he does all Adults in his grasping nature and cruel injustices. If this is a children’s story, then it’s the kind they tell each other in private: full of brutality, boobs and bloody excess.

Loisel builds ambiguity in at ground level, with parallels and analogues connecting London to that blissful island paradise - not least of which are the fantastical tales told to Peter by Mr Kundal, his mentor and closest friend. The tension between reality and the imagination is the very backbone of the story, and is personified in the Peter/Pan dichotomy. (Pan exists already, you see; he's a separate being, plucked from the world’s imagination, leading the fairy folk.) It is only in the second half of the book that Peter and he become ‘one’, and in doing so, cement Peter’s position with the Neverlanders.

The constant gravitational pull towards the adult world (most clearly embodied by the saucy sirens of both worlds but also, more subtly, by chains of guilt and responsibility) sets up an internal conflict that lends Peter a real pathos in the midst of his cocky charm. Of course, it is in the denial of the ‘dirty’ Adult that Peter Pan derives his greatest power: the boy who never grew up. It comes with a terrible price though - forgetfulness - allowing some particularly chilling events to occur.

What many readers will find astonishing is Loisel’s inclusion of a Jack the Ripper sub-plot, back in London. It is akin to the Tales of the Black Freighter sections of Watchmen in its apparent irrelevance, yet essential thematic link. I have theories about the psychological depths of this book that I could just go on and on about, but that’s a conversation for another day. Perhaps when you’ve bought it and soaked it all up yourselves, you’ll post a comment or two below and we can explore it further.

You must track it down, though.

This is one of those rare books that gives you more and more every time you read it, whether it’s in the spectacular detail of the artwork or fresh insights to the story, theme or meaning. The artwork is sumptuous, the drama intense and the emotional punches are near-crippling. How many comics can delve into gnaw-knuckle nastiness one minute then move you to tears the next? Precious blooming few, and that’s a fact!

I’ll state it clearly one more time though – this book is not for children. On first flick through I thought it was deemed ‘adult’ because of the copious boobs on display, but that’s really not the case. Whilst the sirens (read mermaids) have a sexual nature to them, there is nothing that they actually do which is overt enough to be unsuitable for children. It is the emotional trauma of Peter’s abusive mother that I would protect my daughter from; the salty language used by adults and children alike; the pants-wetting terrors of night-time London; and the horrible lengths to which Tinkerbell goes in her jealousy. I dare say the tick-tock croc would give her nightmares too, but I don’t want to put you off too much. Just be careful where you leave it, eh?

Is it a perfect book? Not quite. Ambiguity makes for a more interesting and interactive read, but it also stops it from ever being wholly satisfying. Critical questions of plot and moral character are tossed into the air without ever quite landing, and remain so, no matter how much you grasp. I suppose that’s Peter Pan all over though: a crowing, glorious, bloodthirsty little bastard; hovering just out of reach. Tormenting the grown-ups… forever.

‘May your madness be joyful! Forget all to live.’

Written and illustrated by Régis Loisel
Published by Soaring Penguin

Out of print, but second-hand copies are available on eBay etc.

Reading experience: 5/5
Reviewer: Dion Winton-Polak
Review originally written for Geek Syndicate.