All Things Connect

by Amy Wu

Spanning twenty years of curiosity, connection, and care, All Things Connect chronicles Andrew and Ise’s shared life in an increasingly complicated world. Divided into two main acts, The Rite of Spring begins with their chance encounter at a dog park in 2005, through their life of environmental activism on scales both large and small. The Dance of Death follows, offering an exploration of intimate themes of personal loss and grief.

All Things Connect is a story told predominantly through Andrew and Ise’s conversations, punctuated by familiar headlines: the 2008 recession, natural disasters, Brexit, the pandemic, etc. There is a feeling of intimacy and slowness when you read a story unfolding through conversations had in bed, on a walk in the Highlands, and tending to their garden. In contrast, the panels dedicated to global events feel jarring in an all-too-familiar way for those of us prone to “doomscrolling,” or, as Andrew quips, what used to be called “facing reality” (17). This juxtaposition highlights the question Andrew, Ise, and readers often ponder: how do you lead an ethical and joy-filled life in the 21st century?

Andrew shares he was never very good at small talk – similarly, no time is wasted in The Rite of Spring. The story jumps readily into Andrew and Ise’s search for meaning in an increasingly uncertain world. Through their shared environmental concerns, their relationship blossoms as does their desire to act with intentionality and expediency. This plays out on varying scales, from building a carbon-neutral home in the Scottish Highlands with family and friends, to writing for the local newspaper, to fostering a connection to nature through art, culminating in their participation in Extinction Rebellion (XR). Launched in London in 2018, XR is a movement that targets the global climate emergency through nonviolent direct action. Amongst throngs of people, Andrew and Ise are pictured marching with red chalked hands, metaphoric for the collective guilt regarding climate change, being arrested and de-arrested, and wondering if this was the beginning of a shift towards life-sustaining civilization. Andrew’s attention to scale is particularly impactful in his honest depiction of being a part of an international movement and the simultaneous struggles of organizing in a small community. Both the large, visible demonstrations and the small acts of resistance serve the same goal of enacting systemic climate and ecological change. Reflecting the heart of this story, a sustained commitment to leading a life driven by agency in the form of small, intentional acts of care – “even little steps count, if they’re in the right direction” (Ise’s words, 52).

The chapters within The Dance of Death take a different tone. Rather than grappling with world events (or rather disasters), Andrew and Ise turn inwards as they navigate their own mortality within the backdrop of the pandemic, aging, and personal loss. Amidst the death of their parents and beloved pets, Ise begins struggling with her speech, prompting Andrew and Ise to begin the frustrating journey of searching for medical answers. Jumping between physicians, medical institutions, and tests, no conclusive result is offered. Instead, they are left with an uncertain future of waiting and seeing. Ultimately, Ise is diagnosed with Bulbar-onset Motor Neurone Disease. The memoir doesn’t so much tell you what MND is, but rather shows it through Ise’s slurred speech, the dribble of water down her chin as she drinks water, and her inability to eat pizza unless it’s put through a blender first. According to the NHS, MND is difficult to diagnose in its early stages until symptoms progressively worsen, imparting a physical toll on mobility, speech, breathing, and eating,  as well as the strain on an individual’s emotional state, mental health, and relationships. The story predominantly depicts the latter: how a couple, driven by agency, grapples with a disease that necessitates reliance on others and modern technology. In a story told through conversation, Ise’s reliance on a voice-banking text-to-speech application reflects some of the ways in which modern technology maintains a degree of modified agency. Sometimes agency isn’t being on the front lines, but rather making discrete preparations, holding one another during a wonderful starry night, and finding a way to carry on in the face of “sadness and loss beyond words” (119).

Andrew’s art and storytelling are deceptively simple, perhaps a reflection of Ise’s undying influence to “keep it simple, man” (122). Driving the understated visual storytelling is Ise’s reminder to focus on “feeling” rather than intellectualism. All Things Connect favors minimalist black-and-white illustrations and straightforward dialogue that enable readers to empathize and relate to their existential concerns. A particularly poignant visual touch was the varied motifs that escaped the panels and adorned the corners of select pages, serving as a reminder that everything – nature, life, and even death – is a constant companion, even if often relegated to the fringes of human stories. Furthermore, the conciseness of this graphic memoir allows for a quick, one-sitting read. When I finished the Epilogue, I couldn’t help but think about how the speed at which one can read this memoir mirrors “our brief and precious time” in the cosmos (1).

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Amy Wu is an interdisciplinary scholar who most recently completed an MPhil in Health, Medicine and Society at the University of Cambridge. Her research interests include feminist STS, history of medicine, environmental history, women’s health, LGBTQ+ health, disability, and, of course, graphic medicine.