Talking about books is weird. You read something beautiful, and you want others to have the same experience. So you have to tell them something about it. Tell them too little, and the moment evaporates into the air, forgotten the next time they check their phone. Tell them too much, and you’re the human equivalent of a movie trailer, flitting from story beat to story beat until the actual story, as it was meant to be told, has been made redundant.
There is a certain pleasure that can only be attained by opening a book with a face and a woman’s name on it, and letting the pages take you where they will.
I don’t want to talk about Sabrina, the recently released graphic novel by Nick Drnaso.
I just think you’d like to read it.
It’s not that there’s some kind of Sharp Objects double-twist that shouldn’t be spoiled—but even telling you that twists your expectations, right? I’ve told you nothing, and already it’s too much.
Here’s a quote from Zadie Smith:
“Nick Drnaso’s Sabrina is the best book—in any medium—I have read about our current moment.”
You know times are difficult when that sentence summons queasy dread. PLEASE READ
