Customer Reviews

The Professor's Daughter

5 star:		(4)
4 star:		(6)
3 star:		(4)
2 star:		(1)
1 star:		(1)

 

 

The story is a weird but interesting one. I really enjoyed the beginning where the two of them walked the streets of London. Imhotep IV and Lillian bond over their marginalization and powerlessness in society. Both are loved by the professor, but more as possessions than as real people. They also both suffer from daddy issues.

After the opening though, I thought the story went downhill. The plot is a bit far-fetched, even for a fantasy story. The actions that the characters take at pretty much any point do not seem particularly likely. The perfect example of this is the kidnapping of Queen Victoria, which, while funny, serves absolutely no point. It is merely to be entertaining. The plot, such as it was, failed to wrap up in a way I found satisfying, as the big issue with the romance was entirely ignored.

I was also a bit bothered by the fact that the mummies were capable of just sloughing off their bandages and looking like real men again. If so, why wouldn't they just do that? Why live the life of a mummy, destined to be stuck under glass for a museum display, when you can just walk around like a normal man?

This charming, madcap Victorian romp was originally published in 1997 and has just recently been translated into English and reissued by First Second. The French pairing, Joann Sfar and Emmanuel Guibert, have infused their girl-meets-mummy love story with equal amounts whimsy and longing. Lillian Bowell is the daughter of renowned Egyptologist Professor Bowell. During one of her father's many absences, Lillian befriends one of her father's many mummies, Imhotep IV. Lillian soon feels safe with the debonair mummy and Imhotep finds the lovely lady reminds him of his long-dead wife who was not mummified and therefore will not be around to enjoy eternity with her spouse. Together these two unlikely confidantes spend a day out on the town, strolling through the streets and parks of 19th century London.

Mayhem ensues when Imhotep gets into a drunken pub brawl and Lillian is forced to drug the police who come to investigate the matter. Unfortunately, the sedative turns out to be poison and Lillian is put on trial for murder. Both fathers attempt to come to the rescue of their besotted children, but the British justice system will not be perverted and the two lovers must find a way out on their own. Always zany, at times hilarious, this original tale rushes headlong toward a satisfying, if slightly cringe-worthy conclusion. The text is enchantingly abrupt and fast-paced, and the accompanying artwork is utterly beguiling. Highly recommended.

First Second is a wonderful imprint that's been publishing some of the most interesting graphic storytelling of the last several years in beautifully produced editions. This slender story, a translation of a book that appeared ten years ago in France, is no exception. At 64 pages, with generally six panels a page, it's a quick read, albeit a pretty strange one. Sort of Monty Python meets Preston Sturges meets Tales From the Crypt -- or something like that.

There's no way to summarize the story and do it justice, all you need to know is that it involves a romance (of sorts) between the beautiful daughter of an Egyptologist and the decidedly animated mummy of Imhotep IV. A day out together turns into a madcap farce involving drunken disorder, poisoning, element, multiple kidnappings, a pirate mummy, a court scene, a soggy Queen Victoria, surreal dream sequences, and various other outlandish elements.

It all moves along at a cracking pace with abrupt shifts in the story, so much so that I had to stop a few times and make sure I hadn't missed some transitional page along the way. For the most part, the translation manages to hit the right sassy, snappy, silly tone, with only a few misfires here and there. The artwork is really excellent and unusual, lovely pencilwork and watercolors with a great sense of palette. Guibert captures the Victorian era and brings it to life while also creating engaging characters with relatively simple features. The lettering is slightly disappointing, a lame faux-handprinted font called "Felt Tip" that is resized throughout depending on space. This a minor quibble though, and the book is perfect for the reader looking for an absurd and witty diversion.

"The Professor's Daughter" is a most unusual love story, a tale of the mummy of Imhotep IV and the daughter of the man who dug him up. And it has such a great premise! But...the story falls apart in a few places for me. In places it feels far too rushed. I mean yes this is an unusual romance, but I have no sense of time or pacing, everything feels like it's happening right then! All crammed up on top of each other. It also feels like it reached a somewhat stunted ending. I just wish they had told a bit more of the story to avoid some of the awkwardness in transitions.

The illustrations however, are quite fantastic. I love the watercolors with the slightly out of focus feel. It makes it feel like you're looking into the past in some places. The color palettes go well with the scenes of the story ranging from a full color palette in some places with a more muted green/blue palette when the characters are by the sea.

Even with the gaps in the story I would still recommend this book for at least the artwork...and also for the interesting premise of the story.

This was one peculiar read, and if I had to sum it up in a one word feeling, that word would be "quaint."

The depecitions of London seemed nicely done, and it was interesting to see the flashbacks that Imoteph IV would have involving his children.
That people regularly accepted moving and speaking mummies as part of life (not once are there screams of alarm or expressions of disbelief as the two mummies go about their respective business) was a little hard to swallow, and parts of the plot took crazy turns that didn't seem all that necessary (the bit involving the Queen seemed particularly forced).

For being a translation the language was surprisingly intact and I didn't once feel as though someone was grasping for a word that wasn't quite in their reach.
The art was very well executed and the hues matched the tone of the story pretty much at any given time.

Originally posted at Libri Ago (dot)blogspot(dot)com

Before the paranormal romance craze, the concept of this book would have seemed utterly bizarre: in Victorian England, the daughter of an Egyptologist and one of the mummies he brought back from Egypt fall in love. (Plus accidental murder, kidnappings, and Queen Victoria being tossed in the Thames River.)

Now, there are other zombie love stories floating around, but when The Professor's Daughter was originally published in France in 1997, it was a completely novel idea. The reason it works? The simply gorgeous illustrations by Guibert convey so much emotion, especially the beginning, when the pages were illustrated in Sepia tones.

The colors actually shift as the book progresses. The changes have meaning within the story, so I won't describe it here, but Elizabeth Bird shared an excellent review on Goodreads (much better than mine, actually) that explains why.

My favorite of the illustrations is on page 11. For some reason, the composition and colors strike me as being near perfect, even if there is a mummy wearing a suit in it. I would honestly hang a print of it on my wall, I find it so fascinating. It might require some explanation for visitors, though.

The storyline itself is rather bizarre, but combined with the illustrations--and a good dose of suspended disbelief--it transcends the stereotypical comic or graphic novel to become a piece of literature. I heartily recommend buying The Professor's Daughter, even if only to gaze at the lovely images.

Tired of reading stories about a strong willed yet delicate young girl who is the only person who could possibly understand the loneliness and immortality angst of a genteel vampire who just wants to be loved?

Do I have the graphic novel for you!

You should read: The Professor's Daughter. It is a funny, attractive, and smart tale of a strong willed yet delicate young girl who is the only person who could possibly understand the loneliness and immortality angst of a genteel mummy who just wants to be loved.

Plenty of moments of very French surrealism thrown in.

What a fun read. The artwork is wonderful, and the characters are a lot of fun. I highly recommend checking this book out. It's a fast read and if you're a fan of adventure in Victorian England, then this a book for you!

One of the professional reviews called it 'slight', and that's so. It's got a bit of wit, but it's pretty much throwaway Euro kid's stuff, not comparable to the "Rabbi's Cat"s, or "Klezmer".

The Professor's Daughter is a light and quick read. It takes less than an hour to read, and that's intentional. (Yes, it's a comic book, but it's done well enough that the authors steer the reader's speed.) The story begins as the professor, an Egyptologist, leaves his daughter alone for the day. She and one of the mummies are flirty with one another. (The mummy is still alive and animated, but not in a creepy or horror movie way.) They sneak off for the day.

Things quickly go wrong. They go for drinks, but the mummy hasn't had food or drink in thousands of years, so the alcohol goes straight to his head. He gets into a bit of a fight. The mummy has borrowed the professor's clothing, since bandages are unacceptable as an outer garment. The clothes are torn, and worse still, the police show up at the professor's house looking for the barroom brawler.

What follows is an escalating struggle for the pair to escape from the law. The tone remains lighthearted, although the plot presents potentially dire consequences. The graphics match the mood. They are round and kind of pretty with color tinting, with a pallette in which sepia is right at home.

This was a fast lighthearted read. It's OK and definitely something to read if you already have access to a copy. That said, I didn't find it so memorable that it would be worth seeking out a copy.