Illustrating History: April 25th in Portuguese Comics

1 Origins

Portugal stands among the pioneering nations in the world of comics, being one of the first seven countries to publish them.^[3] The roots of Portuguese comics can be traced back to the early 19th century when they were connected to the development of the press, with short sequences of satirical and political drawings regularly appearing in newspapers. These early forms of comic strips were characterized by incisive social and political commentary, reflecting the troubled times during which they were created.^[4] Although intrinsically linked to newspapers, these graphic narratives represent the evolution of a long-standing tradition, as the art of telling stories through images has been prevalent across various media for centuries. Interestingly, the tradition of sequential visual narratives in Portugal dates back even further,^[5] unexpectedly related to other forms of sequential narrative, among which the tile iconography, known as azulejaria portuguesa. A key figure in elevating this practice was the famous ceramist Raphael Bordallo Pinheiro, a renowned artist, illustrator, and caricaturist whose work had a profound impact on the development of graphic storytelling in Portugal.

Both the penchant for visual narration and the development of the press set the stage for the emergence of the first comic strip in Portugal.^[6] Building on this early foundation, Bordallo Pinheiro played a crucial role in establishing this genre. His work Apontamentos de Raphael Bordallo Pinheiro sobre a Picaresca Viagem do Imperador de Rasilb pela Europa, exemplifies his pioneering efforts. This satirical account of Emperor Dom Pedro II of Brazil’s visit to Europe in 1871 is considered the first Portuguese graphic novel, exploring a political-historical episode. Bordalo Pinheiro thus inaugurated a tradition in Portugal that predates modern documentary history and graphic reporting by over a century.^[7] The growth of the Portuguese press in the 19th and early 20th centuries provided fertile ground for the flourishing of comics. Publications such as A Paródia and O António Maria which he himself founded and directed, served as platforms where these early comic strips gained popularity.

Initially, comics were exclusively intended for adults. With the onset of World War I and the rise of the Portuguese Republic, the periodical press was filled with satirical illustrations and ironic commentaries. It was during this time that the first children’s newspapers featuring comics emerged which marked a shift from comics as mere humorous press to an autonomous cultural and artistic expression. The first children’s magazine, ABC-zinho (1921), featured comic strips from its inception, with contributions from artists like Cottinelli Telmo and Stuart Carvalhais. In 1936, O Mosquito was launched, featuring both international and Portuguese artists, including Eduardo Teixeira Coelho, who illustrated historical novels that reflected the nationalist ideology of António de Oliveira Salazar, a conservative Portuguese economist and authoritarian dictator. In the 1940s, he enhanced the magazine’s appeal by illustrating novels with a historical theme, particularly focusing on the ‘Age of Discoveries’ and maritime expansion – the ‘golden era’ of Portuguese history – promoting Salazar’s nationalist ideology.^[8] Authors and illustrators explored exotic settings, blending imaginative visuals with adherence to the Estado Novo regime’s pre-censorship requirements.^[9] Since then, Portuguese comics have consistently drawn upon the country’s history as a narrative matrix, establishing a tradition of historical comics that has flourished across generations This genre has evolved along two main paths: one that integrates historical events into fictional universes, using history as a backdrop much like in historical novels, and another that places the historical event at the very center of the narrative, sometimes to the point of constraining the creativity of authors. António Dias de Deus, a comics historian and a pioneer in the study of this art in Portugal, critiques this tendency by stating, “the almost total inability to construct realistic Portuguese comic strips, diverting the cartoonists’ energy towards a distressing and repetitive insistence on historical motifs and literary classics.”^[10]

The 1950s saw an economic crisis, leading to the emigration of prominent artists. Nevertheless, a new magazine emerged, O Cavaleiro Andante, featuring works by a generation of influential Portuguese comic artists. Their varied styles and thematic richness played a pivotal role in shaping the medium, leaving a lasting impact on the field.^[11] In the 1960s, the economic crisis of the previous decade worsened significantly, particularly due to the Salazarist dictatorship’s refusal to initiate decolonization. This policy created a climate of instability in the African countries occupied by Portugal, ultimately leading to the colonial war in Africa. Consequently, the economic crisis aggravated with a noticeable impact on the comic industry. While comics continued to exist, few were authored by Portuguese writers and illustrators. In 1968, the magazine Tintin emerged, representing the ‘conquest’ of Portugal by Franco-Belgian comics; it introduced a standard of quality both in the stories and in their presentation, and introduced Portuguese readers to contemporary European authors. In this decade, there was a paradigm shift in Portuguese comics, with the francophone term ‘banda desenhada’ (BD) replacing ‘histórias aos quadradinhos,’ reflecting the medium’s growing complexity, thematic depth, and artistic innovation. The term ‘banda desenhada’ (literally ‘drawn strip’) aligned closely with the European comic traditions, especially the Franco-Belgian school, acclaimed for their distinguished graphic narratives. This shift helped elevate the perception of comics in Portugal to a respected art form capable of sophisticated narratives, introducing aesthetic experimentation and narrative depth that moved beyond the simplistic and often formulaic storytelling of earlier comics.^[12]

In the early 1970s, during the so-called ‘Marcelist Spring,’^[13] comic book authors began to experiment with slightly bolder ideas, but nothing significantly innovative was achieved. It wasn’t until the Carnation Revolution of April 25, 1974, which marked a profound transformation in Portuguese society, that there was a significant change in the Portuguese comics scene. The peaceful military coup ended decades of dictatorship, ushering in an era of democracy, freedom of expression, and cultural reawakening. The newfound political freedom allowed comic artists to explore previously censored themes. This period saw a surge in creativity and innovation, as artists and writers embraced the opportunity to address contemporary issues and historical events with unprecedented openness. Publications such as Visão and the works of artists like Victor Mesquita began to reflect the dynamic and evolving political landscape, incorporating themes of resistance, revolution, and social justice. The post-revolution era encouraged the diversification of artistic styles and the emergence of graphic novels that combined literary depth with visual storytelling. This period of artistic freedom and exploration fundamentally reshaped the genre, embedding it deeply within the broader context of Portugal’s socio-political transformation.^[14]

2 BD de Abril

For those born after the April 25th Revolution and far removed from the visual culture of that period, exploring this universe is a journey of discovery that extends well beyond the commonly recognized iconography of the red carnation,^[15] offering surprises at every turn. The surprise is even greater for those distant from the main center of cultural production, Lisbon, where comics are predominantly concentrated, and which has always been the epicenter of political activity. However, this initial distance allows for a detachment that enables the recognition that a series of categorizations is necessary when discussing the 25th of April in comics. To understand this phenomenon from a temporal distance, it is essential to examine a publication that emerged in 1999, commemorating the 25th anniversary of the revolution: the volume was edited by João Paulo Paiva Boléo, João Miguel Lameiras, and João Ramalho Santos and titled Uma Revolução Desenhada: O 25 de Abril e a BD. This joint edition by Edições Afrontamento, Bedeteca de Lisboa, the Centre for Documentation of the 25th of April at the University of Coimbra, and the Centre for Social Studies serves as a multifaceted portrayal of the revolution through Portuguese comics. It straddles the line between an exhibition catalog, a specialized magazine, and a comic book album.

For numerous reasons, this work stands as a significant reference. First, it possesses great documentary value, featuring illustrations of rare comics that circulated locally, in self-published editions, or very limited print runs, frequently preserved in private collections. It includes works that encapsulate the spirit of the revolution, enthusiasm, ideals, and transformative energy, offering reinterpretations through the perspectives of those who experienced it first-hand. Second, it is the result of a collaborative effort among institutions – from University of Coimbra to Comics Library (Bedeteca) – that, although not typically associated with one another, have united to honor the historical legacy of comics. This collaboration marks a rare instance of Portuguese academia embracing comics and recognizing their value as a research source in the social and human sciences. Third, it extends the curation of an exhibition beyond spatial and temporal limitations, making it accessible in the present day.^[16]

A close analysis of the works compiled in this volume shows that ‘April 25th’ goes beyond being just a date; it represents a praxis, capturing the political circumstances that ignited a societal awakening in Portugal. This era instilled a collective responsibility to preserve values and social practices within memory and the arts. Additionally, it has taken on what I see as a denomination: ‘BD de Abril,’ referring to the comic strips that emerged from the new artistic expressions and content inspired by the Revolution. Consequently, it comprehends a multitude of disparate themes and trends, both political and aesthetic, capturing the diverse and transformative nature of this period.

While it is difficult to pinpoint exactly who first coined the term, the expression “BD de Abril” appears in João Paulo Paiva Boléo’s article A BD e o 25 de Abril: Um Outro Olhar, published in 1999,^[17] in the same year Boléo edited the collective work mentioned above where an equivalent term is used: “BD do 25 de Abril,”^[18] and is now in widespread use.^[19]

Why, then, comics? In the 1970s, comics experienced a substantial global surge in popularity, a trend that also made its mark in Portugal. Their influence grew to the point that they were incorporated into the Portuguese educational curriculum. Some point to the high illiteracy rates at the time and the ability of images to make messages more accessible and understandable. After the Revolution, there was an explosion in the use of comics as tools for communication, education, and political struggle. Interestingly, even Salazar, who did not approve the importation of American comics and superhero culture, allowed their domestic production. He even used them as a form of youth entertainment aimed at indoctrination, with censorship ensuring that the messages aligned with the nationalist Christian ideology of the regime’s construction of the ‘Homem do Estado Novo.’^[20] Subsequently, under the designation ‘BD de Abril,’ we find a collection of comic strips spanning various dates, including some as early as 1965. These works come in diverse formats, from newspaper strips and panels in periodical press to pamphlets, illustrated books, albums, and graphic novels. They were produced both in Portugal and abroad, in countries such as France, Angola, and Mozambique. The themes explored address events directly related to the military uprising on April 25th, as well as the broader context preceding and following the Revolution, including the history of Portugal, political propaganda, the fascism of the Estado Novo, censorship, the biography of Salazar, the actions of PIDE,^[21] pedagogy, the representation of women, and the evolution of comic book language in a democratic context. The broad scope of these themes naturally led to further questions: What about April 25th itself? How is the dawn that set the stage for that historic day portrayed? As I explore these questions further, several other observations come to light. The first of these is the identification of four distinct stages within two significant historical periods:

1. Pre-revolution: This period is characterized by what I will designate as ‘denunciation,’ marked by a very restricted clandestine production of comic strips. There are isolated cases, such as those in Coimbra during the student struggle in 1969, and other creations that emerged in countries like France by political exiles, as pointed out by Boléo and others.^[22] These works discuss matters such as exam boycotts, censorship, ideological and political repression experienced during Salazar’s dictatorship, and the persecution by PIDE. For instance, the work by Pepetela and Henrique Abranches, Against Slavery, for Freedom, addresses the episode of the liberation of political prisoners in Angola, representing one of the moments that preceded the beginning of the colonial war.^[23] Clearly, due to the effectiveness of Salazar’s censorship mechanisms and the surveillance by PIDE, there was no consistent production of comic books denouncing the regime. Instead, what we find are isolated creations that only gained recognition after the Revolution.

2. Post-revolution: Within this period, I identify the remaining three stages. The first stage, which I will term ‘exaltation,’ occurred mainly during the 1970s and 1980s. Following the Revolution, themes related to April 25th itself, featuring widely recognized iconography such as the G3 rifle, red carnations, armored vehicles, and soldiers on the streets, became more prevalent in the press, including comic strips and individual vignettes. Comics were frequently used for educational purposes, though often with ideologically oriented pedagogy, and propaganda, with booklets dedicated to the workers’ struggle, social mobilization, workers’ rights, corporatism, and the Portuguese reality in the aftermath of the Revolution. Additionally, there were works with Marxist orientations, involving the mobilization of workers to vote, calls for strikes, and demands for workers’ rights, prominently published by Edições Avante. ^[24] Conversely, there were also works of anti-communist resistance by the ELP (Army for the Liberation of Portugal) and the MDLP (Democratic Movement for the Liberation of Portugal), connected to the political power of the Estado Novo and major economic interests, aimed to reverse the democratic changes introduced.^[25] In comic books, as opposed to comic strips, this period is primarily characterized by the depiction of the April 25th episode, which often appears as a brief mention in various adaptations of the History of Portugal. It is unsurprising that during the transition to democracy, there is a rewriting of history, aimed at distancing itself from Salazarist rhetoric, particularly in comic book format intended for a younger audience.

The second stage, spanning the 1990s and 2000s, is the period I designate as ‘revivalism.’ This stage consists of works that emerged during the celebrations of the anniversary of April 25th, recognized as one of the fundamental dates in 20th-century Portuguese history. This period features comic books with a strong didactic-informative aspect aimed at transmitting the legacy of April 25th and instilling the values of democracy and the ‘April 25th ethics’ in a generation now distanced from the event. Consequently, titles with keywords such as “reborn hope” and “inner revolution” emerged, conveying a sense of personal transformation and often an embrace of capitalist ideals.^[26] At the same time, we observe a revival of the colonial war narrative, with a strong right-wing utopian perspective. Alpoim Galvão, a Portuguese commander decorated by the Estado Novo, decided later in life to write scripts for comic books, in which he portrays himself as the protagonist, recounting historical events he experienced as a military officer. These works also feature General Spínola, a Portuguese military figure and politician who served as the fourteenth President of the Portuguese Republic and the first after the April 25 Revolution, appearing as a historical character in his comic books.^[27] They criticize the decolonization process and focus on the manipulation of African liberation movements by the United States and the USSR. Also, in 1994, for the first time, the history of a political party in comic book format appears. PSD-Social Democratic Party-20 years, authored by Santos Costa, is a rare book, where the legendary figure of Francisco Sá Carneiro, Portuguese politician, founder and leader of the Popular Democratic Party/Social Democratic Party, realistically drawn, in clear line style, occupies a central place.^[28]

The third stage, beginning in 2010, is what I refer to as the ‘revisitation’ phase. The generation of authors emerging during this period introduces a significant change in the way April 25th is portrayed in comic books, offering fresh perspectives, and seeking to revisit historical events with contemporary sensitivity, both aesthetically and narratively. Their works reflect not only a critical analysis of the past but also an attempt to understand its repercussions in the present. There is greater experimentation with longer projects, such as graphic novels that reinterpret not only the history of April 25th but also social life during the Estado Novo from the perspective of the “anonymous citizen,” often overlooked in historical narratives. These projects explore the interference of PIDE in daily life, as well as Salazar’s biography. An example is Miguel Rocha’s work, which is featured in As Pombinhas do Sr. Leitão and Salazar. Miguel Rocha’s work is notable for intertwining historical and political narratives with a personal perspective on the past. In As Pombinhas do Sr. Leitão, Rocha delves into the tensions within Portuguese society during the Estado Novo regime, using a darkly satirical tone to critique its authoritarianism. The style is marked by stark, expressive illustrations that convey unease and irony. In Salazar, co-authored by João Paulo Cotrim, who wrote the script, the tone is reflective yet critical, with a blend of realism and abstraction that deepens the narrative’s themes.

This period is also characterized by a renewal of historical comics, with a notable sensitivity to the theme of the colonial war, which has always elicited internal discomfort in the country. Rather than merely recounting historical events, the works of this period aim to delve into individual experiences, offering testimonies of those who lived through the war. There is a deliberate effort to legitimize the perspectives of the “other,” the colonized and marginalized, by bringing their voices to the forefront and challenging dominant narratives, as evidenced in works like As cinzas da revolta by João Amaral and Miguel Peres. Additionally, there is an exploration of the enemy’s identification as a construct of fascism, depicted in Filhos do Rato by Luís Zhang and Fábio Veras, and Vampiros by Filipe Melo and Juan Caviá. This latter work exhibits a particularly striking sense of creativity.^[29]

The recognition of trauma is now acknowledged, particularly among those who recount historical events through personal testimonies from those directly affected. As Portuguese society becomes more open to discussion and reflection on the past, there is a growing interest in narratives that observe the impact of trauma, contributing to the recognition of trauma as a crucial step in the healing and reconciliation with the past. One such example is Francisco Sousa Lobo’s Gente Remota, a graphic novel based on four extensive vinterviews conducted in 2014 with ex-combatants of the colonial war. Lobo emphasizes the authenticity of the war experiences and the crimes committed by PIDE, asserting that nothing in the narrative has been fabricated. This approach aligns with the broader academic study of trauma in comics, a field extensively explored by scholars such as Hillary Chute, who argues that the “fragmented visual-narrative construction” of comics can “mimic” the shape of traumatic memory, underscoring the medium’s unique ability to convey the complexities of trauma.^[30] Similarly, Dominic Davies and Candida Rifkind, in Documenting Trauma in Comics: Traumatic Pasts, Embodied Histories, and Graphic Reportage, contribute to this discourse, laying the foundation for understanding how the comic form can effectively represent trauma and situating these narratives within cultural and theoretical frameworks.^[31]

Among these comic books, which blur the boundaries between fiction and non-fiction, some are explicitly dedicated to narrating history. These works incorporate historiographical sources and the testimonies of individuals who experienced historical events firsthand. The authors strive to depict historical realities accurately, placing a strong emphasis on their research methodologies and the origins of their sources, which are essential for evaluating the reliability and authenticity of their narratives. Particularly noteworthy is Operação Óscar (2000) by José Ruy.

Returning to my earlier question, “But what about April 25th – the day itself?” we find that there are, in fact, few works available in book format that explicitly narrate the military operations leading up to the coup. Notable among them are Operação Óscar, O País dos Cágados (2012) by António Almeida and Artur Correia, and the recently released Utopia (2024) by Raquel Varela and Robson Vilalba.

3 Comics and History

Utopia narrates the story of the April Revolution through the eyes of José, a young man from the outskirts of Lisbon in the mid-1960s, witnessing the final years of the Estado Novo. He sees his friends’ parents sent off to fight in Africa, helps victims of the devastating 1967 floods, and secretly engages with political and intellectual ideas, books, music, and films from abroad. As he matures, he observes the rise of the anti-fascist struggle, the role of protest music, and the regime’s fall in 1974. After the 25th of April, he joins the militant? left, embracing the radicalism and revolutionary fervor of the PREC period.^[32]

Beginning with a one-page introduction, the book sets forth the authors’ intentions, highlighting the complex relationship between fiction and reality, particularly in times of revolution, when reality can often outdo fiction in its ability to surprise and move us. While this work is meant to be a piece of fiction, it is intricately tied to the historical and social fabric of the Carnation Revolution, reflecting the lives of real people and the transformative moments they lived through with a high degree of verisimilitude. The essence of the characters and events is drawn from these authentic experiences, particularly from those who, in the act of reshaping the world, also transformed themselves.

Through the lens of fiction, the broader implications of the revolution are illuminated – particularly how ordinary people actively implemented Marxist political rhetoric, providing insights into the social dynamics and the spread of revolutionary fervor that traditional historical narratives, often limited by their factual constraints, might overlook. Utopia exemplifies this by blurring the boundaries between fiction and historiography through a network of iconic and textual processes, a blending that is evident not only in its thematic content but also in its formal structure. The division of the page into distinct panels, their arrangement, and the intentional pacing create a distinctive visual rhetoric that enhances the narrative’s impact.^[33] The story unfolds across both space and time (Figure 1), merging spatial representation with temporal flow, showcasing how comics, as a semiotic system, function as a unique form of writing – la bande dessinée comme écriture ^[34] – mirroring the characteristics of other linguistic systems. This graphic novel maintains a regular rhythm in its panel structure, with a consistent number of vignettes per page, except during moments of heightened emotional intensity (Figure 2), which correspond to key personal milestones for the protagonist or significant periods of political and social upheaval in history.

Figure 1:

Panels from Utopia, 2024, pages 23 and 86. Credit: Raquel Varela and Robson Vilalba, Published by Bertrand Editora: Lisbon.

Figure 2:

Panels from Utopia, 2024, pages 70 and 110. Credit: Raquel Varela and Robson Vilalba, Published by Bertrand Editora: Lisbon.

The use of soft, sketch-like lines and subtle shading, creates a sense of intimacy and reflection. The gentle interplay of light and shadow, combined with strokes in a draft-like, unfinished style, evokes a feeling of distance, subtly reinforcing the notion that these events belong to a different time. The predominant focus on hands and small gestures adds a layer of personal connection, bridging the past and present in a way that feels both familiar and nostalgic, with clear ideological undertones.

This sequence of panels (Figure 3), showcasing Salazar, Mussolini, Hitler, Salgueiro Maia,^[35] and vivid portrayals of the Revolution, alongside Amilcar Cabral and what can be perceived as authentic images of the anti-colonial movements, effectively illustrate the intersection of fiction and historiographical narrative. The combination of realistic depictions of historical figures and events with stylized artistic choices, such as rough lines and shadowy forms, creates an atmosphere that suggests a more subjective view of history. This approach allows the work to engage with history as both a documented reality and a narrative shaped by memory, perception, and creative expression, inviting readers to question the nature of historical truth and the role of narrative in shaping our understanding of the past. This questioning becomes particularly crucial when examining the connection between history and comics, as it prompts reflection on what Mioara Caragea describes as history’s “polysemantic fluidity,” emphasizing the multiple interpretations and meanings that history can take, depending on the narrative lens through which it is viewed.^[36] This fluidity reveals the dual referentiality of the concept of history, referring both to the reality of a given era and the scientific discourse about the past. According to Caragea, this is not accidental; it denotes history as encompassing both what happened and the narration of what happened.^[37] This duality draws attention to the common structure of the two discursive genres, suggesting on the one hand that history is inherently narrative, and on the other, the possible tension when two discourses engage with the same subject matter.

Figure 3:

Panels from Utopia, 2024, pages 13, 107, and 58. Credit: Raquel Varela and Robson Vilalba, Published by Bertrand Editora: Lisbon.

The establishment of each scientific field created a significant divide between the two disciplines, often framing them as opposites: history as the pursuit of objective truth and literature as the realm of invention. However, this rigid separation was increasingly challenged by historians Lucien Febvre and Marc Bloch, co-founders of the Annales School, who advocated for interdisciplinary methods and the inclusion of diverse sources, such as oral histories, material culture, and everyday life artifacts – the field opened up to new ways of understanding the past. Lucien Febvre famously described the historical fact as “invented and fabricated.” This phrase, used during his inaugural session at the Collège de France on December 13, 1933, emphasizes the idea that history is not a passive recounting of past events, but an active construction by historians.^[38] Scholars including Michel Foucault, Roland Barthes, and Jacques Derrida played a pivotal role in advocating for the change, emphasizing that both history and literature engage in narrative construction. Their work, emerging from the broader context of French post-structuralism and deconstruction, has emphasized the fluidity and interdependence of these genres, arguing that both history and literature engage in narrative construction. The historical fact is therefore not simply given, nor is it discovered in its original, untouched state as it existed in the past. Rather, it is the product of a complex process of elaboration and interpretation.^[39] This led to a wider intellectual movement that challenged the rigid boundaries separating history from other visual narrative forms. Historians like Pascal Roy, Yvan Jablonka, Denis Maréchal, and Adrien Genoudet now increasingly regard comics as a significant source of historical insight.

One of the works that makes a significant contribution to the ongoing discourse on the intersection of history and visual storytelling, particularly in the context of comics, is Adrien Genoudet’s Dessiner l’Histoire. Pour une histoire visuelle.^[40] In this work, Genoudet builds on the approach suggested by Jablonka by proposing ‘visual history – an approach to historical representation that transcends traditional text-based narratives. Genoudet argues that the historian’s role goes beyond merely reflecting on history and its representation; it involves the very act of writing history. He argues that “the writing of history is largely dominated by the past as a visual performance.”^[41] The images that emerge from this process reflect a drive to closely recreate a past that artists strive to bring to life through their drawings. By critiquing established cultural understandings of history, and delving into the notion of the past, Genoudet positions his reflection within a revitalized cultural history, focusing on how graphic media, particularly comics, contribute to the construction of a visual and collective memory of history, with ‘the past’ being central to Genoudet’s argument due to its visual essence: “To speak of ‘the past’ in the context of history inherently involves an interest in its visual dimension. The past, like memory, is an image.”^[42]

Utopia portrays history by assembling past images into what Genoudet refers to as a visual performance. While it aims to be a work of fiction, Raquel Varela’s historiographical background unmistakably emerges, revealed through a narrative style uncommon in comics: limited dialogue and the extensive use of caption boxes. The tone leans heavily toward the referential and educational, delivering clear factual information – locations, dates, numerical data, and instructive details. Despite the somewhat softened drawing style, the images succeed in making historical figures identifiable. Kate Hamburger’s assertion that “images do not operate in the fictional mode” supports the argument that the visual elements in Utopia create a plausible historical narrative rather than a purely fictional one.^[43] The imaginative landscape and narrative design evoke the concept of “possible worlds,” as articulated by Lubomír Doležel.^[44] Consequently, it can be suggested that this work employs fiction as a means to write a legitimate version of Portuguese history, highlighting anonymous citizens who are frequently sidelined or overlooked in official narratives. This is a personal vision from a historian with deep knowledge of Portuguese history, resulting in an account that is both conceivable and credible.

After years of being anchored in fictional storytelling, comics are now shifting toward narratives that engage more directly with reality.^[45] This evolution is particularly relevant to the intersection of history and comics, as it opens up new possibilities for representing historical narratives through a medium that increasingly offers fresh perspectives on how we understand and visually perceive the past – literally see the past – as demonstrated in the work of Raquel Varela and Robson Vilalba. This album, while maintaining a certain revivalist tendency, sets itself apart and appears to mark the beginning of a new phase, which may only become more apparent in the coming years.