A long, long time ago, comic books were almost entirely the province of children and this place in the popular imagination was shared with picture books. Traditionally, the stories presented in comics were a little scrappier than what might be in the typical Golden Books fare (though not necessarily — for every precious Eloise Wilkins book, there's a bizarre antidote by the likes of Richard Scarry or J.P. Miller or any of the other warped stylists active in that line). Somewhere along the way, however, comic books veered into more mature territory and a funny thing happened — picture books became the area that the quirky, the subversive, the experimental came to ply their art. People like Giselle Potter, Chris Raschka and Peter Sis put forth an artistic effort that had the mainstream comic book world literally eating their creative dust.

 

The two worlds have merged on occasion and, usually, with great success. Cartooning legend Jules Feiffer has routinely traversed the two mediums, sometimes bringing a comic book-structured work to the picture book world. More diversely, the Little Lit series, helmed by Art Speigelman, has brought some serious comic book artists to the fold of picture books and paved the way for further cross-breeding of the two mediums with the idea that they are both working towards a common goal, bringing creative stories of an experimental spirit to little kids.

 

With that in mind, you can't do better than Sara Varon's "Robot Dreams," which ups the ante in regard to scope and emotion when it comes to comic books wearing picture book clothing. It's literally a picture book novel.

 

With no words and pleasingly simple illustration, "Robot Dreams" tells about the complex relationship between a robot and the dog who built him. They are friends — somewhat — but when I use the word "relationship," it isn't referring to the friendship, but to that more nuanced point of existence where you no longer necessarily know a person and yet that moment of time where you did forever links you. That's the sort of relationship I speak of, like an old college friend or girlfriend or roommate or teammate you haven't seen in a decade but still loom large in your thoughts and actions.

 

When you're a little kid, you don't realistically conceive of such a thing — so few years, so little experience and, honestly, so little movement. Perhaps the most consistent way kids experience that parade of acquaintance is through teachers — or, even earlier, in the realm of daycare. This is part of the learning process of life's criss-crossing players and "Robot Dreams" captures that reality on an epic level that coexists with its stunning simplicity.

 

In the book, the dog buys a robot kit and gets to work. The friendship is, unfortunately, short-lived — a day at the beach brings about a physical dysfunction in the robot and the dog, dismayed and embarrassed, walks away. The robot is left there to think, to dream, to exist through the seasons, to deal with the spare interactions his entrapment on the beach offers and to wonder if he will ever see his friend again — or if the dog is even still his friend.

 

The dog, meanwhile, grapples with his actions and spends the next year trying to move on, haunted though he is by the circumstance that caused him to walk away from that beach. Is he selfish? Does it matter? Can he find new friendship in a penguin and a snowman? Does he even deserve the friendship?

 

These are questions the reader has to answer for himself because Varan's use of pantomime personalizes the story — readers are required to put their own views into the motivations and conclusions of the animals. This is really a book that you can grow with — it's delights are as vivid to an adult as a child, but what is taken away from the story will change according to maturity level and build on itself through years of coming back to the story.

 

One other strength of "Robot Dreams" is that it eases kids into the long form storytelling through a collection of vignettes that stand on their own as short stories or together as an epic of interpersonal deceit. While there is really no call for kids to helped along into that scope, it's a valuable coincidence that the length of the story itself is mirrored in any given person's life experience. In this way, it's a primer for what is to come through kindergarten and grade school on through first job and beyond to retirement. Furthermore, by having silent characters continue on beyond the length of a typical picture book, readers are put in the position of deciphering the engines of change without insider knowledge of other people's most intimate considerations.

 

In other words, "Robot Dreams" is a simulation for life as most people experience it — except that it's seen through the eyes of a cartoon dog and his homemade robot. If only real life offered that opportunity.