‘Land of Mirrors’ Review: The Succulent Beauty of Color

Graphic novels, as a genre, are relatively young. The dominant graphic novels of the past century span superheroes, fantasy, coming-of-age, and the memoiristic, their inky linework forming definite boundaries of visual realism. María Medem’s “Land of Mirrors” is none of those things. Medem is carving out a niche that is quite rare, if not wholly new, at least to readers in the U.S.: a graphic novel in the tradition of magical realism.

“Land of Mirrors,” released on Feb. 4 with translation by Aleshia Jensen and Daniela Ortiz, is Spanish illustrator María Medem’s English language debut. It’s first and foremost an illustrator’s novel: The artwork doesn’t serve only to tell the story — in fact, its storytelling utility often can’t help but be eclipsed by its dazzling artistry — but to dwell on color, light, composition, line, and movement with marvelous indulgence. This vivid style distinguishes “Land of Mirrors” as the visually magical work of a graphic novelist to watch.

“Land of Mirrors” is a lyrical story of isolation and friendship. One day, an unexpected companion appears in Antonia’s deserted town, where she has been living alone, save for a flower in which she recognizes a strange kinship. Antonia wrenches herself from solitude, and from her beloved flower, to follow Manuela to the titular land of mirrors. Her journey asks: How can companionship save you? What power, and identity, can be found through imitation?

As the narrator, Antonia is fretting and insecure. In contrast, the flower seems almost coy. One isn’t sure whether the flower is a parasitic distraction from true community or a precious source of purpose — the latter is harder to believe — but these conflicting thoughts are satisfied in the neat and wondrous ending. For those reminded of “The Little Prince,” Antonia’s flower is certainly evocative of the rose, but as a whole Medem’s imaginative analogy finds its meaning not in exclusivity but in communality. It’s subtly refreshing.

In fact, “Land of Mirrors” loves imitation. The artwork and story both subvert the idea that uniqueness is superior or that alikeness is banal or sinister. A particularly charming scene in which Antonia teaches Manuela how to imitate the sound of a bell depicts them as literal golden bells in the moment of their chiming. As the characters put it, to imitate something perfectly is to understand it. To recognize yourself in the mirror is to reunite with your internal self. When rendering such metaphors, Medem embraces the task of illustrating what is impossible to illustrate — motion, voice, the slicing of a pomegranate — and excels at this sensory focus. The graphic novel itself seems to shine through empathy-wrought mimesis.

The nuance that repetition unearths can also be appreciated in Medem’s signature square panels, reminiscent of animation storyboards as they follow miniscule shifts in movement. These square panels track a plodding donkey or the act of kneeling, but don’t always follow a progressive action — exemplifying the act of mimicry that is so symbolically central to the book. Elsewhere, panels capture flashes of scenery that conglomerate into a riotous beauty, as if saying that details are all the more beautiful because they exist within collectiveness. Medem’s liberal use of panels never fails to be aesthetically pleasing yet quirky, inviting one to examine each square and often provoking a reexamination of an image taken for granted.

Amidst this thematic immersion, certain plot-based questions remain unclear: Why is Antonia the only one left in her town? Why didn’t she simply leave? What’s up with the immortal greyhound? Some ambiguities come with the territory of magical realism, others can be answered through an allegorical lens; but perhaps some of the pages that were taken over by natural landscapes — water, grass — could have been anchored by more story beats, more backstory, or even more greyhound-esque phenomena.

But most of these critiques are transcended by the gorgeous, saturated succulence of the colors as Medem renders landscapes, fragments, light, and mirrors to capture wonder. Even through the story’s temperate pacing, the burst of beauty promised in each page keeps one continuously turning. As a rule, beauty strikes first in Medem’s ambrosial color combinations, but unique depictions of fuzzy light or the scrawls that make up a face in a crowd are gems within the sea of treasure.

Each page is a work of art worth marveling at; the tome is undeniably worth poring over. The freshness of the book’s concept amidst the graphic novel landscape is one thing, but Medem’s unique art style is not to be missed, especially for lovers of illustration. For anyone who has experienced loneliness, “Land of Mirrors” contains a strange yet stunning world in which they just might find belonging.

—Staff writer Isabelle A. Lu can be reached at isabelle.lu@thecrimson.com. Follow her on X @IsabelleALu.