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A review by chamomiledaydreams
A Sparrow's Roar by Paolo Chikiamco, C. R. Chua
3.0
The art in this book is absolutely stunning. I'd never heard of the title or author/artist before, so it was the cover and a quick scan of the inner pages that convinced me to check out this graphic novel on an impulse. I didn't even read the summary on the back beforehand, but I fell in love with the vibes of this fantasy world nevertheless.
"A Sparrow's Roar" is a relatively short read, consisting of only four chapters, so there isn't the space for dense world-building. But the countries are easy to keep track of, since they're color-coded, not just in their flags and banners, but also in their architecture and rooftops. The fashion, too, caught my eye instantly, because it blends traits that I associate with masculinity and femininity. Most of the characters are young women with short hair, who might look butch except for the fact that they mostly wear dresses when they're not in their armor. The archery outfits especially stand out to me, and I appreciate how the artist designed everything. The armor isn't made to accentuate the characters' chests; it's practical and not sculpted out like a bra. Additionally, Chua does not shy away from giving the female characters pronounced muscles and broad shoulders, which is always refreshing to see.
My biggest reservation with this graphic novel, in terms of, "I don't quite know how to feel about this yet," is the disabled representation. (WARNING: MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD.) The main villain has a wooden right arm, and at first, this serves to endear him to the characters and readers, as a point of sympathy and humanity. But then, we learn that he didn't lose his arm gallantly in battle, as many people assumed. Instead, he asked his brother to cut it off for him during the war, to support a lie that would help him gain access to his goal and trust from those in power.
I am all for seeing disabled characters in fiction, and I don't think that it's necessarily wrong to have a villain who is disabled. But when that villain is the only disabled character in the story, I grow suspicious. And when that villain's disability is directly linked to their villainy, I feel hurt and betrayed, by the storytellers more than by the character. It's not his fault he was written like that! The wooden arm feels unnecessary to me, like the only thing making this character disabled accomplishes is vilifying disability in the first place. "You thought that you could trust this man, since he has a disability," the narrative seems to say. "But little did you know, he brought this disability upon himself, and it is an indelible mark of his evil!"
Besides this discomfiting detail, I genuinely enjoyed "A Sparrow's Roar." I like the emphasis on sibling relationships and the Shakespearean trope of siblings switching places, sometimes against their will and other times to execute a clever plan. The story feels cohesive due to this overarching theme, and I enjoy the parallels between the two good sisters and the two evil brothers. That one line Per says about relating to the villain's brother, because he's about to become an only child... That hit hard!
And the art was fantastic, in terms of both sharp, bold lines and in beautiful, satisfying colors. I cannot stress the beauty of the style enough. It's impressive how much story and emotion Chua can generate through a relatively small amount of space, too. I grew to love these characters, especially Per, whom I had just met, and each battle had emotional depth and high stakes. The way that flashbacks are interwoven into the current drama is excellent, and each page truly is a work of art.
I would recommend this story to anyone who loves graphic novels, gender non-conforming women (at least, in the context of our world), and fantasy settings. It's worth mentioning that there isn't any romance to speak of in "A Sparrow's Roar." That's part of what I love, to be honest: that the highest emphasis is on family and friendship, rather than sex and romance. I was briefly afraid that one of the sisters might develop a romance with one of the brothers, but thankfully, that did not happen, and the story was all the stronger for it, in my opinion.
"A Sparrow's Roar" is a relatively short read, consisting of only four chapters, so there isn't the space for dense world-building. But the countries are easy to keep track of, since they're color-coded, not just in their flags and banners, but also in their architecture and rooftops. The fashion, too, caught my eye instantly, because it blends traits that I associate with masculinity and femininity. Most of the characters are young women with short hair, who might look butch except for the fact that they mostly wear dresses when they're not in their armor. The archery outfits especially stand out to me, and I appreciate how the artist designed everything. The armor isn't made to accentuate the characters' chests; it's practical and not sculpted out like a bra. Additionally, Chua does not shy away from giving the female characters pronounced muscles and broad shoulders, which is always refreshing to see.
My biggest reservation with this graphic novel, in terms of, "I don't quite know how to feel about this yet," is the disabled representation. (WARNING: MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD.) The main villain has a wooden right arm, and at first, this serves to endear him to the characters and readers, as a point of sympathy and humanity. But then, we learn that he didn't lose his arm gallantly in battle, as many people assumed. Instead, he asked his brother to cut it off for him during the war, to support a lie that would help him gain access to his goal and trust from those in power.
I am all for seeing disabled characters in fiction, and I don't think that it's necessarily wrong to have a villain who is disabled. But when that villain is the only disabled character in the story, I grow suspicious. And when that villain's disability is directly linked to their villainy, I feel hurt and betrayed, by the storytellers more than by the character. It's not his fault he was written like that! The wooden arm feels unnecessary to me, like the only thing making this character disabled accomplishes is vilifying disability in the first place. "You thought that you could trust this man, since he has a disability," the narrative seems to say. "But little did you know, he brought this disability upon himself, and it is an indelible mark of his evil!"
Besides this discomfiting detail, I genuinely enjoyed "A Sparrow's Roar." I like the emphasis on sibling relationships and the Shakespearean trope of siblings switching places, sometimes against their will and other times to execute a clever plan. The story feels cohesive due to this overarching theme, and I enjoy the parallels between the two good sisters and the two evil brothers. That one line Per says about relating to the villain's brother, because he's about to become an only child... That hit hard!
And the art was fantastic, in terms of both sharp, bold lines and in beautiful, satisfying colors. I cannot stress the beauty of the style enough. It's impressive how much story and emotion Chua can generate through a relatively small amount of space, too. I grew to love these characters, especially Per, whom I had just met, and each battle had emotional depth and high stakes. The way that flashbacks are interwoven into the current drama is excellent, and each page truly is a work of art.
I would recommend this story to anyone who loves graphic novels, gender non-conforming women (at least, in the context of our world), and fantasy settings. It's worth mentioning that there isn't any romance to speak of in "A Sparrow's Roar." That's part of what I love, to be honest: that the highest emphasis is on family and friendship, rather than sex and romance. I was briefly afraid that one of the sisters might develop a romance with one of the brothers, but thankfully, that did not happen, and the story was all the stronger for it, in my opinion.