I’m not necessarily the natural audience for a graphic novel. But Shushu is that rare find, the book to convert this devoted long-form reader. From the first pages I was captivated, by the stark and melancholy illustrations, and by the story they are sharing.
Written by Jewish writer Ziggy Hanaor, with illustrations by Benjamin Phillips, this is the story of a harried, exhausted mother. With a newborn keen to test out their lungs, four-year-old Frances, a fussy eater who refuses to give up her dummy, and a largely absent husband, the last thing Miri needs is for her mother-in-law to arrive on her doorstep. But that’s exactly what happens.
Bella embodies all the Jewish mother stereotypes and more; critical of Miri, dismissive of her granddaughter’s proclivities but deferent to her “can do no wrong” son. She’s present but she isn’t helpful; in fact, she’s adding to Miri’s stress. She’s keen to be there for her granddaughter, but only on her terms, to her schedule – in other words, not actually when support is needed.
“Not a lot of nutritional value, but I suppose when you’re breastfeeding you need the calories,” Bella observes, over a lasagne she herself has brought. “Frances only eats pasta,” reminds Miri through gritted teeth; the drawing capturing the resignation in her eyes.
Maybe not every woman can identify, but Hanoar’s sparse, considered text and Phillip’s gloomy illustrations perfectly bring to life Miri’s situation. As a mother of two, I’m some distance from those tough initial weeks, but not so far that the illustrations fail to resonate.
We see Miri up in the night, bone tired but breastfeeding, on the nursery run, or during the day wheedling her daughter to take out her “shushu”. Every mother among us has been her, or some version of her, and the graphic novel is the perfect format to show both the universality but also the specificity of Miri’s situation.
This is motherhood, warts and all, beautiful, ugly and true. Here is Miri putting lotion on her sore breasts, or briefly escaping to the privacy of the toilet, head in hands. But we also see the intimacy and joy of early motherhood; how lying with a newborn in your arms can soothe even the most frazzled mind.
This is a gift for a woman who is out the other side but can still see those moments in the rear window. It’s a reminder that shepherding a new generation into the world is everything people say it is, and more.
Shushu, by Ziggy Hanaor
Circada
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