Koranic stories and myths, exchanges of riddles between Solomon and Bilqis, give the story a fantastical dimension. This dream-like quality owes more to Neil Gaiman’s Sandman than to the politically-charged graphic novels of the last decade. Stylistically, the linearity of the primary narrative is continually invaded by the swirling quality of Dodola’s stories and the calligraphy and numerology of her studies – whilst spreads with insanely intricate patterns and borders are used to express moments of particular intensity.

It’s easy to believe that Habibi is the result of 6 years worth of frenetic scribbling. In a particularly transcendental section of the narrative, Thompson shows the visual connection between the Arabic script and natural forms as a meandering river transforms into a line of text. When separated, they find themselves in diametrically opposed worlds Dodola in the palace of a Sultan, bedecked with jewelry and surrounded by pleasure-gardens, and Zam in the corrugated alleys and ramshackle marketplaces of the slums.Īll of this is reinforced by incredibly detailed illustrations and huge landscape drawings which echo with beautifully rendered calligraphy. She adopts Zam, first a kind of brother but then the closest thing to a lover she has. Her new husband is a scribe who teaches her to read and write before he is killed by bandits, imbuing her with a love of story-telling. The story begins with Dodola, sold into marriage aged nine.

Towards the end of the novel we dwell extensively on the meaning of the title, ‘Habibi’ which translates to ‘my beloved’. Graphic novelist Craig Thompson (most well known for his autobiographical Blankets) inflicts a thousand different shades of suffering on his characters and the people they encounter and yet despite child slavery, prostitution, self-mutilation, drought and all the numerous hazards of the desert, the over-arching message of this 672-page masterpiece, is of love. This is probably the most optimistic thing I’ve read all year.

Habibi novel