Illustrator Jillian Tamaki (left) and author Mariko Tamaki.
Jillian Tamaki recently took home Canada’s prestigious Governor General Award for Illustration in an English Language Children’s Book (awarded by the Canada Council for the Arts) for This One Summer (published in U.S. by First Second, 2014). The title is the first graphic novel to win in this Governor General category, which has typically gone to picture books. Previous winners have included Cybele Young for Ten Birds published in 2011 by Kids Can Press and Jon Klassen for Cats’ Night Out published in 2010 by S. & S.
That’s not the only thing that makes This One Summer stand out. The title is also a collaboration with her cousin, author Mariko Tamaki. Though the two women admit that their book, a poignant, coming-of-age story about two 12-year-old girls spending the summer together, was an unconventional selection—in Jillian’s words, “it is somewhat surreal”—they believe their success is due at least in part to their willingness to eschew labels. Mariko compares their experiences with those of artists from the early graphic novel or indie comic world, such as Chris Ware and Marjane Satrapi, whom she says weren’t thinking about making money by chasing the latest publishing trends.
“People were really just making things for themselves,” she says. “[Our first novel], Skim (Groundwood, 1993), was written for an indie magazine, and then it was purchased by a publisher. We didn’t have to adhere to any sort of guideline, making something for somebody [else].”
Their book defies categorization in other ways, too. Inhabiting that awkward, fleeting period between childhood and adolescence, protagonist Rose and her friend Windy are exposed to issues slightly beyond their comprehension—overhearing a group of teenagers refer to another as a “slut,” for example, or musing about sex and physical development—as well as more typically kid-friendly activities, such as eating candy or building sandcastles. This gives the book a more frank and realistic view of tweenhood than many other titles, something that Jillian acknowledges is unusual.
“There’s stuff in [our books] that I don’t think you’d find in a typical YA book. We’re lucky that we have publishers who let us do that.”
Neither of them consciously think about a specific audience or age level when crafting their work, instead preferring to write and draw what inspires them.
“Comics are too much work to [not try] to do exactly what you want,” says Jill.
However, doing what they want rarely means starting with a set idea; the two are willing to let their ideas change and grow over time. When Jill proposed doing another book together, Mariko had the germ of an idea: a story set at a summer cottage that involved the theme of pregnancy and babies.
“That idea evolved a lot in the actual writing,” Mariko says. “What you think the book is going to be about and what the book ends up being about is really something that develops.”
Though Mariko sketches out the original idea, the end result is a true collaboration, with Jillian providing visuals that add an emotional, human dimension to the work. For instance, Mariko plotted out a scene where Rose’s father leaves the cottage for a while and Rose fights with her mother, but seeing that moment on the page was different.
“The fight as I conceived it is so much more nuanced once it hits the page and the words come together,” says Mariko.
Another example of Jillian’s influence upon Mariko’s narrative was the look of the characters.
“There’s a certain age that kids hit, where they look like teenagers from some angles but they look like kids from other angles,” says Jillian. “They’re really lanky. They’re getting the height, but they don’t have any of the bulk. That’s what I was doing when I was trying to plan Rose. At some angles, Dud [a teenager boy in the book] looks like a very handsome man. At other angles, he looks like a bratty kid, and that feels right to me.”
However, it wasn’t just Rose and Windy dealing with difficult life experiences and realizing what it means to be mature. Although the focus of the novel is on Rose, her mother copes with problems of her own: the rocky emotional aftermath of a pregnancy that ends in miscarriage and the havoc that it wreaks on her relationship with Rose’s father. Both Jillian and Mariko were sensitive to the obstacles and challenges that the characters—adult and children—were facing.
“The ongoing theme is feeling young and feeling old and what that means for…all of the characters in the book,” says Mariko. “You have this [theme of] rising to the challenge of being a mature person, which everybody is dealing with in this book, regardless of how old they are.”
Indeed, though coping with age and maturity is particularly challenging for young adults, both stress that dealing with adulthood can be trying, especially nowadays.
“All the benchmarks of adulthood have fallen away. You’re left to define it in a different way, and nobody knows what that looks like,” adds Jillian.
She discussed how she used subtle details in her art to convey that idea. “When we figured out that [Rose’s] mom could have tattoos and be sort of a riot grrl, even though we didn’t add any text [about that], that added something.”
Though the author and illustrator are cousins, they grew up on different sides of Canada, only getting to know each other when Jillian went to school in Ontario as an adult. When Jill learned that Mariko was a writer, the two began work on a small project that eventually turned into Skim.
“There’s never been that much pressure,” says Mariko. “It’s all incredibly voluntary.”
Jillian agrees that collaborating has come naturally: “I don’t think we ever set out to make any type of book. It hasn’t been that calculated. Just the stories that we wanted to make.”
Their organic method has had stellar results, and both are proud of the impact of their unorthodox work.
“I think when you’re not trying to fit into categories, you reap the benefits of that,” says Mariko.