By Dylan Curran
Content warning: eating disorders
My Body in Pieces is an impressive collection of illustrations that lend themselves to thought-provoking ideas on self-worth and the impact of everyday actions. This was a graphic novel that made me feel seen and heard. The anxieties embedded within its pages linger, slowly fading into nostalgias of worries we've all had: Do I look good in this? How can I be thinner? When will all these workouts start to show results?
As a reader, you feel yourself grow weary of Hébert’s choices. You know that these early decisions are hurting her—her friends, her family, her body. But you can't stop her. And you can't stop yourself from reading, from slipping into the familiarity of her actions.
You feed yourself on her mistakes. Eagerly, you take another bite, devour the book whole.
An examination of Hébert’s journey, the novel is told in evocative black and white, each frame reminiscent of family photo albums or photo essays. Every emotion in its pages is expressed with such certainty and depth that we feel ourselves leak into the pages and become embedded in these memories. As readers, we are shaped by the words "each day I focus on finding fault with my body, one piece at a time...I am good at it."
The clarity of moments sketched in fragile charcoal strokes emphasizes the contrast of other characters' seemingly insignificant suggestions that have a huge toll on Hébert’s self-esteem. She is all too conscious of her image, ever reminded of her (self-perceived) failures, forever plagued by the reflection in the mirror. But what Hébert does not see, we as readers do: the love that follows her throughout the book. We catch glimpses in the wordless frames of Ganache, of Matilda, and even between family members. There is a tentative tenderness in each of these conversations. But, ultimately, we cannot deny that it is a genuine depiction of body dysmorphia, anti-fatness, and eating disorders. An all too familiar life for a woman who struggles to see the beauty within herself.
Once layered in self-hatred, Hébert slowly polishes the pieces of herself through therapy and begins to reveal new aspects of herself: a friend, a daughter, an artist.
We cheer for her in the final pages, revel in the positive changes she has made for herself. We too share an ice cream with a smile on our face.
A note on the impressive task of translating a graphic novel: Shelley Tanaka has done wonders to translate the text from French to English, and in doing so, has conveyed a level of anxiety one assumes is found murmured throughout the original text. Tanaka effortlessly manipulates language to form swift, short snippets that flow between each frame. In this way, the translation blends seamlessly with the original graphics (illustrations by the author herself, Marie-Noëlle Hébert). Overall, My Body in Pieces is a striking debut and an impressive graphic novel that deserves a home on your shelf.
Thank you to Groundwood Books for the complimentary copy in exchange for an honest review!