I first came across this book when I was seven, or thereabouts, whilst visiting one of my father’s friends. Having learnt to love books – and being bored by the grown-ups’ conversation – I cast around for something to do and set my grubby little paws upon this.
I can’t say for sure, but I think I’d recognised the author from the Father Christmas and Fungus the Bogeyman stories that were family favourites. This, however, is not a children’s book. Though deliberately written to ape the simplistic style of a kid’s picture book, it predates authors like Joe Sacco, Art Spiegelman and Shigeru Mizuki who, more famously, used the graphic format to convey adult themes.
This is a book that I have never, ever forgotten. So, when I saw a copy at my local donkey sanctuary bookstall I had to pick it up.
It tells the story of the Falklands War. The Tin-Pot General is Galtieri. The Old Iron Lady is Thatcher. They’re depicted as monstrous grotesques like this…
But mixed in with the lunacy of these giant figures you get this…
Child-like manner-of-fact prose that states simple truth. Beautiful, haunting and – for me at least – unforgettable.
There are criticisms to level at it too. Perhaps the work is too simplistic. Is Thatcher as bad as Galtieri? I say this as a committed Leftie who regards Thatcher as a society-destroying vandal. But at least she didn’t head a murderous, corrupt regime responsible for the torture and ‘disappearance’ of 9,000-30,000 of its own citizens. The Falkland Islanders wanted/want to be British. And, as the conflict slips back into the footnotes of history, does the story have a real anti-war message or is the story too specific to that one incident?
Nevertheless, I’m writing this now because the emotions that I felt when reading this as a child have never gone away. Few books have as much power as this. It is a work to make me fall in love with reading all over again, to remind me that creativity will always find new ways to express itself.
I can’t say how glad I am to finally have it in my possession.