Make no mistake: How to Fake a Moon Landing (Abrams ComicArts, 176 pp., $18.95) is intended as a didactic graphic novel — just not in the manner the title might suggest. Instead, it’s an homage to the scientific method and a celebration of the suffering practice of critical investigation — a revelation likely to disappoint space-going enthusiasts lacking the means to do so while delighting those who relish in the triumph of research over misperception.
Author/illustrator Darryl Cunningham tackles seven divisive topics — the moon-landing hoax, homeopathy, chiropractic, the MMR (measles, mumps, rubella) vaccination scandal, evolution, fracking, and climate change — in his own way, offering a thorough sum of research that’s visually guided by a mix of images, newspaper clippings, and caricatures. Some are exceedingly polygonal; others, a little truer to life. The result is an accessible, visually pleasing book that asks readers to challenge the many modern forms of misinformation by seeking out the truth through science and critical thought.
While ambitious in its scope, particularly in light of its laconic composition, the graphic novel covers admirable ground and strikes the appropriate chords. No word is wasted, and the strongest points feel more like kicks to the groin than friendly debate. After thoroughly dressing down the “pseudoscience” of homeopathy in the second chapter, for example, Cunningham punctuates his thoughts on the subject with a dark case study from the wife of famous Aussie homeopath Dr. Peter Dingle:
Penelope Dingle believed in the power of homeopathy. / She put her life at risk in order to prove that science-based medicine was unnecessary. / And then she died.
If there were any secret as to Cunningham’s feelings on the subject, those last few frames clear the air.
More than just verbal jabs, though, Cunningham crafts an engaging interplay between his pointed text and sometimes-disjointed abstract images. Neither element functions properly on its own: at points, the sequences of images without text become completely indecipherable, while the text by itself is often choppy and doesn’t compel the reader onward.
Cunningham’s final frame on homeopathy is the perfect example of this interplay, as the shock of “And then she died” is only heightened, and made darkly humorous, by an accompanying cartoon duck — a derisive visual metaphor for homeopaths used throughout the chapter — exhaling an irreverent, speech-bubbled “sigh” as it drifts aimlessly across an unnamed pond. Point made, Mr. Cunningham.
Cunningham’s use of this humour throughout the book is endearing, even if you don’t necessarily see eye to eye with him. Since none of the selected issues innately lend themselves to easy comedy, the task of generating some is left to the author. Thankfully, Cunningham is up for the job.
There’s a satisfying irony in having a cartoon penguin expound all of the ways in which climate change is a real, human-influenced thing, and not just some piece of conspiratory propaganda. On the death of chiropractic founder Daniel David Palmer — who, as it turns out, was Canadian — it’s hard not to chuckle when phrased like this:
His son accidently ran over him in a car. / The official cause of death was Typhoid, but being run over couldn’t have helped.
Still, the book is not without its issues. Cunningham’s adherence to critical investigation is as merciless as his disdain for human nature is palpable — which is to say, very much so. As presented, his worldview can at times feel alienating.
While simultaneously providing a mass of information and asking some poignant questions — questions that form some of the book’s most resonant moments — Cunningham also asks readers to challenge any and all sources of knowledge. The result is a mentally encumbering task of filtering through information to find what is accurate and what is spun to prove his points. It’s a novel that’s framed as evidence versus opinion, yet marked by heavy doses of both.
Science writer Andrew C. Revkin, in his introduction, acknowledges that “scientific knowledge is, by nature, a moving target,” and it’s one Cunningham takes ferocious aim at. But it’s clear that Cunningham’s real hope is for readers to question the media, to question corporations, and to do their own research. He asks readers to think critically, and in this respect How to Fake a Moon Landing is happy to lead by example.
