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Martin Lemelman's elegiac and bittersweet graphic memoir Two Cents Plain collects the memories and artifacts of the author's childhood in Brooklyn. The son of Holocaust survivors, Lemelman grew up in the back of his family's candy store in Brownsville during the 1950s and '60s, as the neighborhood, and much of the city, moved into a period of deep decline. In Two Cents Plain, Lemelman pieces together the fragments of his past in an effort to come to terms with a childhood that was marked by struggle both in and outside of the home. But his was not a childhood wholly without its pleasures. Lemelman's Brooklyn is also the nostalgic place of egg creams and comic books, malteds and novelty toys, where the voices of Brownsville's denizens--the deli man, the fish man, and the fruit man--all come to vivid life. Between the lingering strains of the Holocaust and the increasing violence on the city's streets, Two Cents Plain reaches its dramatic climax in 1968, as Lemelman's worlds explode, forcing him and his family to re-create their lives. Through his stirring narrative and richly rendered black-and-white drawings, family photographs, and found objects, Lemelman creates a lush, layered view of a long-lost time and place, the chronicle of a family and a city in crisis. Two Cents Plain is a wholly unique memoir and a reading experience not soon forgotten.… (plus d'informations)
A graphic autobiography. The drawings were evocative and interesting. The book however was sad and depressing. Martin Lemelman had a very unfortunate childhood. Even after making it through WWII without being killed not many things go right for him or his family. He settles in NYC in an area that got wave after wave of immigrants. His wave of Jewish Holocaust survivors leave for the suburbs but his father owned a little candy store named Teddy's. There are no customers but that doesn't stop people from trying to rob them. He is rather blatantly anti-the-next immigrant wave Black, Latino. He is not a brave man. His family doesn't help him become brave. He does manage to become an artist.But the story of this man doesn't really go anywhere. It just ends. It is a shame that he didn't grow up in my neighborhood in Brooklyn. Not that candy stores did well but at least the people were not abused. During the 50s and the 60s candy stores and luncheonettes were fixtures on the corners of our avenues and we all went there to get penny candy, buy a newspaper or grab a burger and an egg-cream. The joys of Brooklyn life do not come through in this misery of a book. ( )
This is an autobiographical graphic novel that my grandmother wanted to read years ago, and I finally got around to reading it as well. My grandmother was born in Brooklyn, and the author was also born and grew up in Brooklyn in the 50s and 60s. I can't say that this book was perfect. There was a lot of content that is uncomfortable, and toward the end it gets pretty racist toward the non-Jewish minorities who are moving into Lemelman's neighborhood, but what I did really enjoy about this book was how recognizable so many of the things that my grandmother told me about her childhood were presented on the page. I really saw myself and my family on a lot of the pages here, and I connected to those particular aspects. ( )
This was such a great and unexpectedly interesting memoir. I wasn't a fan of the drawings, but the stories Lemelman shared were just so interesting that they overshadowed them. Two thumbs up! ( )
Something about this memoir didn't work for me. The problem doesn't lie in the story itself but in the visual approach. Lemelman combines collage, photorealistic drawings, and pencil sketches. The book jacket, with its combination of colour and pencil, is more compelling visually for me than the memoir itself. ( )
A thoroughly absorbing narrative, Two Cents Plain is not adequately described by its subtitle 'My Brooklyn Boyhood'. Drawings, pictures and words take the reader not only to the Brooklyn of long ago, but into the Lemelman home. Through tragedy and comedy, Lemelman's voice is always matter of fact.
Lemelmen pieces together his childhood memories, weaves in his parents' stories, captures the atmosphere of his Brooklyn neighborhood and creates a vivid,rich and moving memoir.
I believe that when a work makes the reader feel as if he/she is trespassing on the author's memories and feelings, it is truly successful. Two Cents Plain transplants you to the narrator's world and you see his world through his/her eyes. Brilliant. Soul-stirring. ( )
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Martin Lemelman's elegiac and bittersweet graphic memoir Two Cents Plain collects the memories and artifacts of the author's childhood in Brooklyn. The son of Holocaust survivors, Lemelman grew up in the back of his family's candy store in Brownsville during the 1950s and '60s, as the neighborhood, and much of the city, moved into a period of deep decline. In Two Cents Plain, Lemelman pieces together the fragments of his past in an effort to come to terms with a childhood that was marked by struggle both in and outside of the home. But his was not a childhood wholly without its pleasures. Lemelman's Brooklyn is also the nostalgic place of egg creams and comic books, malteds and novelty toys, where the voices of Brownsville's denizens--the deli man, the fish man, and the fruit man--all come to vivid life. Between the lingering strains of the Holocaust and the increasing violence on the city's streets, Two Cents Plain reaches its dramatic climax in 1968, as Lemelman's worlds explode, forcing him and his family to re-create their lives. Through his stirring narrative and richly rendered black-and-white drawings, family photographs, and found objects, Lemelman creates a lush, layered view of a long-lost time and place, the chronicle of a family and a city in crisis. Two Cents Plain is a wholly unique memoir and a reading experience not soon forgotten.
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no customers but that doesn't stop people from trying to rob them. He is rather blatantly anti-the-next immigrant wave Black, Latino. He is not a brave man. His family doesn't help him become brave. He does manage to become an artist.But the story of this man doesn't really go anywhere. It just ends. It is a shame that he didn't grow up in my neighborhood in Brooklyn. Not that candy stores did well but at least the people were not abused. During the 50s and the 60s candy stores and luncheonettes were fixtures on the corners of our avenues and we all went there to get penny candy, buy a newspaper or grab a burger and an egg-cream. The joys of Brooklyn life do not come through in this misery of a book. (