The Junction

Eleven-year-old Lucas Jones disappeared from his hometown of Medford with his father Roger. No trace of either of them was ever found and despite an extensive search, the case remained unsolved. Twelve years later, Lucas turns up on his aunt and uncle’s doorstep. There’s only one problem – Lucas hasn’t aged a day. He’s still an 11-year-old and has no idea where he has been or what happened to him and his father, who’s still missing.

Two photos of Lucas are identical: one taken in September 1984 and one taken on his return on 12 June 1996. The police are puzzled, and the town is in a frenzy of excitement. In the middle of it all, Lucas is almost unnaturally calm; the psychologist assigned to help him talk about what happened isn’t getting anywhere, nor are his aunt and uncle. Lucas is polite but otherwise uncommunicative. All Dr Jean Symonds has to go on is the few possessions in Lucas’ backpack: a diary in a school exercise book with Kirby Junction written on the front page, an envelope containing four polaroid photos and assorted wholly unremarkable things.

Lucas’ diary makes little sense, but then life in Kirby Junction made little sense, either. Houses appeared where none had been before. New people came to town, and it was if they’d always been there, living in another building just squeezed in amongst the others, jostling for a place amongst the rest. But that was all right. His parents were there, and that’s what mattered most.

The return of Lucas Jones is as intriguing as his disappearance. His story gradually unfolds, moving between 1996 and the attempts to unravel the mystery of whether he really is who he says he is, where he’s been and why he hasn’t aged, and his time in Kirby Junction. Lucas isn’t deliberately keeping secrets. He genuinely doesn’t understand either, and the section where we see his return from his own point of view makes it clear events are as baffling to him as they are to those he meets.

The Junction is both heart-breaking and heart-warming, telling an almost unbearably poignant story through the eyes of an increasingly confused child, determined to understand what has happened to him. The same story from the point of view of the adults around him is equally as compelling. The time shifts between past and present allow the story to evolve organically, at times with a dreamlike quality, and at other times firmly grounded in reality, but always with the lines between the two blurred and confused.

I was wholly absorbed by Lucas’ story. I loved him from the start, with his angular head, spare but expressive features and puzzled, determined expression. Norm Konyu’s distinctive artwork is as stunning as his story, and this is a graphic novel that I’ll return to time and time again, always finding something new, some fresh detail tucked away in the panels, maybe a sign by the sidewalk, a poster, a photo. Everything has a meaning, it’s just not always immediately apparent what that meaning is.

Konyu’s use of colour fits every stage of the story perfectly. Moody purples contrast with bright, summery yellows, matching Lucas’ emotions, and those of the people around him as they all struggle to understand what is happening.

This is a story about the power of love, loss, grief and memory. There are times when we all want a Kirby Junction in our lives. It’s a place – and a story – that I’ll never forget. The Junction is endearing, haunting, beautiful, unforgetable and absolutely brilliant.