Who owns the clouds?

A fictional adult protagonist looks back on a period in her childhood spent fleeing a war-torn country in this speculative, ambient graphic novel, which thoughtfully unravels themes of grief, healing, and memory. Using spare text that occasionally addresses the reader directly ("You have no idea how often we all dreamed of fresh white sheets"), French author Brassard blends nine-year-old Mila's lived experiences with her adult recollections. The protagonist recalls being "so tired in the days before we left," and settling down for long periods of sleep that manifested visions of standing in a seemingly endless, unspecified queue that trudges toward an arms factory guarded by furious soldiers. Upon waking, Mila and her family flee their village, which is being ravaged by bombs, to wait in a queue similar to that of her dreams. Linocut-style b&w illustrations by DuBois include accents of blue and red. The art's resemblance to both old photographs and classic children's book illustrations--Mila's cat stares longingly out a balcony window while autumnal colored leaves blow gracefully by--evoke the haziness of childhood memories and how past remembrances often straddle a delicate line between dreams and waking. Ages 12--up. (Jan.)

A woman looks back on her harrowing refugee experience. Mila has a photo Papa took of her a few hours before they were forced to leave home. She doesn't recognize the 9-year-old she sees in the picture, a somber, worried girl in a dark dress with short lace-up boots. In the days before they fled an unnamed country, Mila often slept, dissociating from the bombs filling the sky with smoke. Every night she dreamed about waiting in a never-ending line with her family while holding onto a suitcase. It wasn't just Mila who was wondering what awaited them on the other side. The line was all anyone in her village talked about. "The clouds that crept closer and closer, adrift above our heads, clouds that seemed to come from nowhere…were they coming from the burning houses of my friends?" Mila pondered solemnly as the bombing escalated. That was when she and her family joined the line to seek refuge from their war-torn homeland. Twenty-five years later, although outwardly she may seem to fit in, she observes, "I know I'm different from other people." The stark, absorbing illustrations evoke a mid-20th-century European setting and capture the introspective narrative with grace. Rendered largely in sepia tones aptly reminiscent of old photos, this graphic novel measures the weight of memories. The sparse pops of red and blue emphasize meaningful visual cues threaded through the work. A heartfelt and vivid portrait of war trauma. (Graphic fiction. 13-adult) Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.