Grapefruit plays a bit like classic contemporary art, in
that the aesthetic seems to recontextualize seemingly disparate found objects
and juxtapose them to reveal additional meaning. This tension often found in
modern gallery settings appears on the page, with hints of an interactive
experience – the book is, in fact, eventually billed as a “book of instructions,”
pulling the audience in to be part of the exhibit, not merely observe passively.
The tension extends into the comics medium, as Matas seems to be playing with
the form, examining how text and images are not actually separate entities, but
parts of a whole that push the narrative – just as we must consciously,
intentionally inhabit our own narrative in life. This extends again from the
theoretical juxtaposition of found objects, to comic book components as an
example, to real people as they exist off the page. There’s a line later in the
book that seems to hone in on the thesis: “I am the interspace. The gutter.” If
you’re reading this review, odds are you may be fairly well-versed in comics parlance;
the “gutter” here referring to that liminal space between panels where actions
and closure can occur in the mind’s eye of the reader. When Matas proffers “I
exist without knowing it,” we can ask ourselves if we’re ever fully, truly,
engaged and present in the moment? Are we self-aware about the meaning it
provides? Most people are good at recalling the past or anticipating the future,
but not as adept at being in the now. At times, it feels like we’re just mindlessly
drifting along, bridging one part (the past) to the next (the future), without
sensing our role in the present, existing only in that interspace, in the
gutter. In that sense, Grapefruit plays like a wake-up call to be physically, emotionally, and intellectually present in whatever you’re currently doing, at each
individual moment of engagement.
