I grew up reading novels, yes, but also comics, those so-called trashy, garishly coloured narratives consisting of six or eight frames per page, speeches in balloons with too many exclamation marks, and caricatured superheroes doing impossible things. My teachers condemned this form of reading, contrasted it with ‘real’ books, and disparaged its blend of visual and textual art. We would get in trouble at school for reading comics, but not books with pictures, and I was not sure why. One teacher said that comics were ‘lazy reading’, the images given to us rather than created by our imaginations, and were another form of TV.
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