"It will all be over in a flash"

I didn't think anything could possibly paint a bleaker, more traumatising picture of nuclear apocalypse than Threads. But then I read When The Wind Blows. Raymond Briggs' 1982 graphic novel is a soul-shattering experience in so many ways.

For starters, there's Jim and Hilda Bloggs' use of understatement ("Lots of people's lives are going to be considerably affected") and cliches that are woefully inadequate in terms of capturing the bomb's impact (it will be "a shock to the system").

This is just one way in which the book is laden with awful irony; as readers, we know what the couple themselves don't. Their naivety, innocence and incomprehension is painful - for example, the post-fallout belief that it will be safe to collect rainwater, and that the inability to see radiation must mean it's harmless. They attempt to rationalise the "terrible smell of burning" as merely people having their Sunday lunch early.

This naivety also leads the Bloggs to make misguided comparisons to the Second World War, invoking Blitz spirit in a situation in which it is destined to be utterly ineffectual. A stout British stiff upper lip is, they believe, all that's required of them in the circumstances - that, and a sense of personal duty/responsibility: "Ours is not to reason why. We must do the correct thing."

As this implies, the couple retain an unstinting deference to and faith in authority. Jim is scrupulous in reminding Hilda about the need to follow the "Govern-mental Directive", and they trust that "the Powers that Be" have contingency plans in place. Needless to say, the hoped-for swift and coordinated emergency response never comes.

Equally, there is a naive faith in science and technology - a belief that "[w]e're better equipped to deal with the situation in the light of modern scientific knowledge", despite the fact that it is precisely this "modern scientific knowledge" that has brought about the apocalypse. It's seen as a panacea: "probably just spray us with some andi-tote, give us a couple of pills and in no time we'll be as right as rain."

Therein lies perhaps the most devastating aspect of When The Wind Blows: the couple's cheeriness to the end, and the novel's humour. They fret about the precise angle of their homemade door shelter, the construction of which leads Hilda to complain about damage to the paintwork; they debate whether to wear their best clothes in preparation for the bomb; they argue over temporary rudimentary toilet arrangements. Even at the point that the bomb hits and they take shelter, Hilda worries about the cake she's left in the oven.

The warm affection and good humour between these lifelong companions means that being made to watch their slow, painful deaths is all the more excruciating. Briggs slowly bleaches out all of the colour - a simple but stunningly effective graphic strategy that makes what is a terrifying book also incredibly moving.