After reading Heartcore, one notices that one of its most compelling aspects lies in its visual language—the way the book constantly shifts between modes of storytelling. This rhythm keeps the reader engaged while also breaking the illusion of a simple linear narrative, echoing Štěpánka’s own reminder that “life doesn’t make narrative sense.” Indeed, the structure alternates between more traditional comic panels and full-page spreads of explanation or reflection. The story unfolds along a visible red thread, yet the detours—moments of information, memory, or self-questioning—mirror the unpredictable turns of identity and life progression. One particularly striking example is the wordless two-page spread on pages 44–45, which simply depicts insecure attachment. No captions, no dialogue—just images. It’s a moment where facts and feelings are allowed to coexist without explanation, reminding us that some truths cannot be told in words but must be felt to be understood.

In this sense, the book also uses color as an emotional compass. Drawn primarily in grayscale, each page is punctuated by touches of red—sometimes subtle, sometimes overwhelming. That red becomes the heartbeat of the book: guiding the eye, marking moments of significance, and shaping the emotional atmosphere. In quieter sequences it might appear only in a strand of hair or a small detail, but in moments of chaos or inner collapse, entire pages are saturated in red. By doing so, Štěpánka turns color into a narrative force, creating a reading experience that is less about following a storyline and more about entering a state of recognition.

During the evening, one question that arose was why Štěpánka chose to leave the ending so open—almost unfinished. She explained that part of the reason was to avoid creating the impression of a neat resolution. If someone in a similar relationship felt it was working for them, they would not feel as though the author was dismissing their experience. This choice also leaves space for each reader to project their own journey of healing into the story. By refusing to provide closure, the book allows closure to come, if at all, from within the reader.

Another striking decision was to focus more on causes—on tracing the roots of pain and insecurity—than on prescribing solutions, because every healing process is unique and can only begin through awareness. At the same time, Heartcore still manages to stay universal, often by including perspectives that feel widely relatable, such as those of the man in the story.

The conversation also touched on the difficulty of writing oneself as both a character and an author, a tension the book makes visible. In many ways, Heartcore feels like the two halves of a brain in dialogue, trying to reconcile and move toward something close to a unified identity. One can notice this tension especially present in the passages on sexual assault, where Štěpánka conveys not only her own experience but also the immediate, universal consequences.

She connected this to a broader reflection on perspective, noting that there are really three versions of herself involved in Heartcore: the person who began writing it, the one who finished it, and the one she is now. In this sense, the book begins with a strikingly familiar but unsettling line: “I’m not like other girls.” I found this opening deliberately jarring, a reflection of the narrator’s early struggle with identity and belonging. As Štěpánka explained during the evening, she once believed this sense of difference was part of a search for self, but over the course of writing the book—and of growing up—she came to realize that she is not only happy to be a girl but also not so different after all. 

Overall, Štěpánka wanted to explore whether love is something that can be studied like a science, or whether it's more of an innate faculty rooted in experience and feeling. The evening offered a rare opportunity to see how the author reflects on this relectif and creative process, her personal journey, and the ways in which Heartcore navigates both individual healing and universal emotional truths.

Beyond this discussion, Štěpánka Jislová has recently engaged Washington, D.C. audiences through multiple events, including an appearance at the Hirshhorn Museum’s State of the Arts Night, and an in-depth interview published by the University of Washington by Professor José Alaniz.

Article written by Marie Verhoeven
September 30, 2025