People are always saying "I don't read books." Too often, the problem is reading too many of the wrong books, thus turning a potentially great experience into something they'd rather avoid. This is where PointBlank and I come in and let you borrow an awesome book. Let's go to town and make some recommendations, shall we?

So here I am, Easter evening, over at my grandparents' house wrestling with MS-Paint and praying that my five hundred cousins don't pile in here and that my grandmother doesn't know how to use Search History on Internet Explorer. What a holiday! I'm excited though, because I get to review my first book. I had one in mind all week to write about, but then I came across this and it was so beautiful I almost had a heart attack.

See, a year after winning the award for Best First Album at the Angouleme International Comics Festival, Drawn and Quarterly Publishing has translated Abouet and Oubrerie's AYA into English and brought it to limited release in the United States. It tells a simple story of everyday life in a small suburban village in the 1970s, and it tells it exquisitely.

Aya, a level-headed 19-year-old high-school student living in a working class suburb of Cote d'Ivoire's fashionable capital, is the book's eponymous main character. That said, she is not so much a catalyst as she is the strong and observant linchpin around which the action swirls like a pinwheel. Her friend Bintou aims for fun while chasing the dream of a rich and handsome husband, while her other friend Adjoua stumbles into a relationship more unexpectedly. Her father Ignace, offered a better job and a chance at brand-new bourgeoisie comfort, finds himself at odds with his wife Fanta, who is more concerned with staying close to family. Meanwhile, Aya herself just wants to go to university to be a doctor, much to the exasperation of her father, whose idea of an upwardly mobile daughter is an arranged date with his powerful boss's scenester son Moussa, who's last been seen partying with Bintou. And then there's easy-going Mamadou, king of dropping in at all the most awkward moments.

Alicia Grace Chase prefaces AYA with a portrait of Cote d'Ivoire at the time: an oasis of prosperity and French-inspired urban sophistication, just a few short years away from total collapse. Not only does this add a supurb simple base for anyone in need of a refresher course in African politics and history, but it helps to highlight the subtle strains of social jostling and unrest that pepper the book -- especially as Moussa slums it in the village much to his socialite parents' chagrin. In an interview with Publishers Weekly, Abouet explained her motivation behind the approach:

I was so annoyed by the manner in which the media systematically showed the bad sides of the African continent, the usual litanies of war, famine, AIDS, and other catastrophes. She added, I wished to show the other side, to straightforwardly tell about the daily life of Africans.

Indeed, part of what makes AYA so engaging is the universality of the story it tells. A kaleidoscope of bright-light dance parties, nervous first dates, midnight makeouts and raging post-teenage love triangles (not to mention maddening parents at every turn), this story could easily take place anywhere. It's the vibrant desert colors, easy flow of Abidjanaise French slang, and Deneuve-enamored urbanity floating atop a heavy undercurrent of feminist and socioeconomic struggle that anchor us to its own unique time and place.

Matching Abouet's writing on the compelling front is Oubrerie's artwork. Light lines and a bright sunwashed palette that shifts from sunrise to sunset capture a distinct mood and hold it perfectly, and a style that ranges from realistic in one panel to face-pulling cartoonish in the next keeps the story's tone on point.

Not content to rest with a stellar story and gorgeous artwork, however, AYA boasts an "Ivorian Bonus!" to those who stay past the ending credits (so to speak). Here, we're treated to a super-fun, sepia-toned how-to segment: Aya offers a handy glossary, Adjoua introduces us to pagne hair-wrapping, parents impart secret recipes for ginger juice and a delicious-sounding "back 'n forth" peanut sauce, and Bintou gives a lesson in how to "roll your tassaba" (read: shake that ass) like a pro.

MS-Paint is giving me migraines, so I'll have to delay a star system, but AYA easily wins a five-out-of-five. There's a five-page preview over at the Drawn and Quarterly site, but I strongly suggest you check it out in full. It's a fast and immensely enjoyable read, the art burns bright and brilliant, and you might even learn something.

Well, that's all for now! Happy Easter (or Passover, or lazy Sunday), and good night. Tune in next week for something completely different!

_DictionaryGirl_ is putting her Creative Writing degree to use! Got a suggestion for something that needs reviewing? Don't hesitate to let us know!