Nick Pope: Summer of ’88

by Laboni Das

Christopher Stanton and Raymond Klecker’s Nick Pope: Summer of ’88 continues the evocative, diaristic exploration of adolescence introduced in its prequel, Nick Pope: A Diary (2023), deepening its engagement with questions of identity, embodiment, and emotional vulnerability. While the earlier volume foregrounded Nick’s social alienation and bullying, this sequel turns inward, charting a more complex terrain of emotional fragmentation, artistic self-exploration, and relational instability.

Presented once again in the form of an illustrated diary, the narrative unfolds over the summer of 1988. The diary format remains central to the book’s appeal, combining handwritten text with expressive black-and-white drawings. This blend of words and images allows readers to follow Nick’s experiences in a direct and intimate way, as though they are reading his personal reflections.

A key development in this volume is Nick’s increasing use of self-portraiture. Early in the narrative, he begins experimenting with drawing himself, gradually producing more detailed and emotionally charged images. The first self-portrait on July 3, where he notes feeling “really inspired,” (p. 30) presents a carefully rendered image of his face, with soft shading and a controlled composition. His gaze is slightly turned away, and the birthmark around his eye is visible but not exaggerated, suggesting an attempt to observe himself with some distance. This indicates a stage of self-examination in which Nick is trying to see himself clearly, without distortion.

By the time of the later portrait (40), the image becomes more inward-looking. His head is lowered, and his eyes are partially obscured by shadow and hair, giving the impression of withdrawal. The heavier shading around the face and the downward gaze suggest a growing discomfort with how he sees himself. Here, the shift from direct observation to a more closed and introspective image reflects an increasing self-consciousness.

The third self-portrait image titled “Raccoon Boy” (49) marks a significant turning point. This portrait visually emphasises the dark birthmarks around his eyes that had earlier made him a target of ridicule. His posture—leaning forward with his head resting on his hand—conveys a sense of weight and fatigue. Here, the stigma is made explicit, as the features that led to mockery are no longer hidden but become part of how he represents himself. By naming and drawing this image himself, Nick begins to reshape how he sees his own appearance.

Subsequent portraits further develop this exploration. In the self-portrait on July 15 (57), Nick presents a more stylised and composed version of himself, dressed formally and framed with a sense of care and control. The image appears shaped by his thoughts about Max, suggesting that his self-image is influenced by how he wishes to be seen in relation to others, indicating a movement from observing the self to constructing an image of the self shaped by desire and perception.

This contrast becomes clearer in the portrait drawn by Max (63). In this image, Nick appears more balanced and composed, with a steady gaze and a more unified facial structure. Nick remarks that he “didn’t recognize” himself in this drawing, introducing an external perspective, showing how Nick is seen by someone else, and highlights the gap between his own self-perception and how others perceive him.

The later self-portrait on July 21 (67) presents a striking visual shift. Nick depicts his face surrounded by multiple disembodied eyes. The repetition of eyes suggests that he feels constantly watched, while the arrangement of these elements around his face creates a sense of fragmentation. This image clearly shows, rather than simply states, the idea of a divided or unstable self.

The diary presents Nick’s mental and emotional state with clarity. His diary entries move between excitement and anxiety. On June 27, he writes, “A million thoughts have been rushing through my head, mostly about how things could go wrong” (20). Such moments are sometimes supported visually through crowded and overlapping text and images, which reflect the pace and confusion of his thoughts, thereby allowing the readers to inhabit Nick’s mental state rather than merely observe it. This sense of instability becomes more visible in the July 19 entry, where Nick observes that “all the parts of my life are splintering off in different directions” (64). This idea of “splintering” is not only expressed in words but also suggested through the scattered arrangement of visual elements on the page.

Nick’s relationships become more complex, particularly in his interactions with his younger brother, Jamie. In the July 19 entry, Jamie says, “I don’t want to answer any more of your questions” (64), indicating frustration and distance. This develops further when he later says, “Nick I was calling for you and you weren’t there. I was calling for you” (77). Jamie’s words suggest that he feels neglected particularly by Nick, rather than by everyone in general, and this is presented directly through dialogue within Nick’s diary.

Another significant theme is the exploration of sexual identity and desire, most notably through Nick’s relationship with Max. Their interactions gradually evolve into moments of emotional and physical intimacy. The scene on July 14, where Max kisses Nick—“he said, ‘Nick’… then he kissed me… he tasted like wine and wintergreen gum” (56)—marks a crucial shift in Nick’s self-understanding, presenting identity as a fluid space of exploration rather than a fixed category.

The supporting characters—Sharita, Jamie, Max, and Nick’s parents—continue to play important roles in shaping Nick’s experiences. They provide both support and tension, reflecting the changing nature of relationships during adolescence.

Raymond Klecker’s illustrations are a significant strength of the book. His work captures emotional nuance through expressive facial detail, body language, and composition. The stark black-and-white palette reinforces the tension between visibility and concealment, particularly in relation to Nick’s birthmarks and evolving self-image. The diary’s visual texture—handwritten fonts, uneven layouts, and dense compositions—enhances its intimacy, making the reader feel as though they are engaging with a personal artefact.

Ultimately, Nick Pope: Summer of ’88 is not merely a continuation but a deepening of the narrative established in the prequel. It shifts the focus from external conflict to internal transformation, offering a nuanced portrayal of adolescence as a process of self-making through art, relationships, and emotional introspection. Stanton and Klecker create a work that is both aesthetically compelling and emotionally resonant, demonstrating the power of graphic narratives to engage with complex questions of mental health, identity, and embodiment.

Like its predecessor, this volume transcends conventional storytelling. It invites readers not only to witness Nick’s journey but to inhabit it, affirming the central tenet of graphic medicine: that stories told through the interplay of word and image can render visible what often remains unseen.

___________________________

Laboni Das is an independent scholar whose work engages with graphic medicine, health humanities, and dementia studies. She is the author of Dementia and Graphic Medicine: Beyond the Living Death Narrative (Routledge, 2026). Her research has been published in leading journals, including Journal of Graphic Novels and Comics, Perspectives in Biology and Medicine, Journal of Medical Humanities, The Comics Grid, and Visual Communication in Medicine.