In Britain we all grow up in the shadow of the Second World War. Even now the story of our role in that conflict is recycled and recycled in films, books and in the media.. Last weekend the Department for International Trade, no less, was tweeting about its support for a restoration of a Spitfire.

And yet what stories are we telling about that moment in our history? Is there room for nuance? For anything that doesn’t stick to the triumphalist norm? We talk about the war and yet rarely link it with the fact that those who fought it then voted for transformation with the election of a Labour government and the establishment of the welfare state. And when do we calculate the cost of the war for those who fought it?

Both of those questions are addressed in Benjamin Dickson’s new graphic novel A New Jerusalem. Set on the bomb-blasted streets of Bristol in 1945, it tells the story of an 11-year-old boy Ralph whose father is due home from the war. Through Ralph’s eyes we see the impact that his dad’s return has on his family and the community.

A story of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and post-war politics, A New Jerusalem tells a different kind of war story. Dickson’s clear, clean storytelling is well suited to the complex story he is telling here.

Here, he talks about the book’s origins, Second World War myths and why he loves comics.

Benjamin, can you tell us a little about the origins of A New Jerusalem?

There were three main inspirations, one of which I talk about in the introduction. The first was a conversation with my Dad over dinner one evening about his experiences growing up in post-war Merseyside. He was born after the war and used to play on bombsites on his way to and from school. That was pretty typical of the time, of course, and kids could get quite territorial about these sites. Kids would also hunt for and collect shell casings, shrapnel and other things from the war, and I found myself wondering what would happen if a child found something more significant on one of those sites – perhaps leading to some kind of adventure.

Another inspiration was Ken Loach’s documentary The Spirit of ’45, which talked about how the coming together of people for the war effort created a desire for radical change, leading to the birth of the welfare state and the NHS. I found the documentary very powerful, and it matched up well with my grandparents’ memories of the time.

There was also Tony Benn’s reminiscences about soldiers sitting around in quieter moments, discussing the fact that, for as long as the war lasted, they had full employment and free healthcare, and realising that if it was possible to have these things in war, it was possible to have them in peacetime too. I’ve always found it fascinating that it took a war to bring people together in such a way.

The third thing was when I watched a YouTube video of Patrick Stewart answering a question from a fan at a Star Trek convention. The fan had thanked him for his work campaigning against domestic abuse, which led Patrick Stewart to make an extraordinary off-the-cuff speech about domestic violence. He explained how his father was regularly physically abusive towards his mother, and in later life he came to understand that his father had suffered from PTSD as a result of his experiences in the war.

As often happens with the birth of a story idea, all three of these separate influences all collided one day, and I realised there was a story there that, to my knowledge, hadn’t been done. A story about a boy whose father comes home from the war with PTSD, a condition that nobody around him really understands, coupled with a yearning for social change. A snapshot of life at that time, exploring the hope for the future, but also the legacy for those who came home.

In the introduction you mention your father’s memories of post-war Britain. Were you brought up on tales of the Home Front? Growing up what was your sense of that time?

My father was born after the war, so he had no stories as such, and my grandparents didn’t really talk about it, at least not to me. My grandmother was in the WAF and was stationed in both Scotland and Ireland at various points of the war, though I still don’t know exactly what she did. She told me that everyone she met was extremely nice except for the American men, who just constantly tried it on!

My grandfather was in the Home Guard in Liverpool, and he had a few stories – I remember one he told about having an argument with another member of the Home Guard on the seafront (I think it was an argument about whose area it was to patrol), and the next day he came back to find the man had been hit by a bomb and was spread all over the beach. My grandfather had the job of cleaning him up. That stayed with him, as of course it would.

I wasn’t that interested in history as a child, to be honest – it was only later that I realised history had all the best stories!The Herald:

Once you started researching the subject what surprised you most?

I’d kind of accidentally done most of the research already when I started writing, just from reading books or watching films/documentaries on the subject out of general interest, which meant it was not a difficult story to write!

But when I decided to set the story in Bristol (where I live) I started researching the wartime experiences of the city and found that – for some reason – nobody thought it would be bombed. They were sending evacuees from London to Bristol as they thought it’d be safe, and half the city still hadn’t had their Anderson shelters delivered when the bombers arrived. It’s odd, because not only was it an important port, the city was full of factories, and the Avon river made it easy for bombers to find it by simply following the river from the Severn Estuary.

We tell ourselves a lot of myths about the war and its aftermath in the UK. Were you wanting to puncture some of those stories?

There was no specific myth that I wanted to puncture. It’s more that I wanted to explore a side of the British experience of war that I felt hadn’t been looked at that much, and do it as respectfully as I could. If that punctures myths, then I’m happy about that.

More than anything, I really wanted to remind people of where the welfare state came from, and why, as I feel it’s in grave danger of being forgotten. Scotland seems to have done much better at preserving the welfare state than England has, but across the whole of the UK it’s much more threadbare than it was, and it frustrates me that it seems to be constantly and gradually undermined. I’m under no illusions that a comic book will single-handedly save the welfare state, but you know… You do what you can with the tools you have.

There were a couple of other things I wanted to address, though they were more minor. I wanted to feature the fact that Churchill was not as well regarded in 1945 as he is now. The soldiers, in particular, often didn’t like him at all, which may come as a shock to some people. Churchill’s speech about a welfare state requiring some form of “gestapo” to maintain it was regarded as particularly offensive to many, particularly the soldiers, many of whom had encountered Nazi war atrocities first hand.

Churchill did an excellent job in building his own legendary status later on, when he personally wrote the history of the Second World War – but at that time he was nowhere near being universally adored.

We tend to associate PTSD more with the First World War.

Yes, I suppose because that was the first total war, where it was impossible to avoid the sheer numbers of damaged people coming home. But, also, it should be considered that the moral imperative of the Second World War has survived the ravages of history far more intact than the First World War’s moral imperative.

Today, the First World War is regarded as a largely meaningless exercise in slaughter, any moral imperative that may have existed at the time largely debunked or dismissed. So, instead, we focus on the suffering. It’s also of course worth pointing out that the First World War killed, maimed and otherwise broke more British servicemen than the Second Word War did, even though the Second World War cost more lives globally.

But PTSD is a major factor of any and all war, certainly in the modern day. It’s easy to forget that there are young men and women in our country, right now, who fought in Iraq and Afghanistan who are struggling. A shocking number of ex-soldiers end up on the streets, and a big reason for that is mental health. Regardless of your views on those conflicts, I think that is a pretty awful state of affairs.

Looking at this precise graphic style you employ. How demanding is it? And what are its advantages?

It’s actually not as demanding as it looks at first glance. It’s very detailed but it’s heavily photo-referenced, which makes it easier, and I’m employing a technique which I’ve used in life drawing for years where I just constantly move the pencil,which gives it a sense of life and vibrancy which can sometimes be lost when photo-referencing. So, it’s quite a practiced style and a lot of fun to work in.

Also, once I’ve got the photo-reference I don’t need to think too much about what I’m drawing, so it becomes quite a relaxing process. Most of the book was actually drawn sitting on my sofa with the TV on.

What is your own history with comic strips as a reader?

I grew up reading The Eagle (1980s) and 2000AD, as well as humour titles like The Beano and Whizzer and Chips. I absolutely loved them, and still do – it’s amazing how well those stories stand up when read as an adult, especially stories like Judge Dredd.

Charley’s War, Pat Mills and Joe Colquhoun’s epic First World War strip, was originally serialised in Battle – which I never actually read – but it was reprinted in Eagle and had a huge impact on me as a child, particularly its attention to detail, and the fact that the central character is just very ordinary. If there is any strip that had an influence on A New Jerusalem, it would be that.

As a creator what makes the form special for you?

I think every medium is special and unique in some way, and I don’t think any medium is superior or inferior to any other. But for me personally, comics are particularly special because it’s a visual medium of storytelling that I could literally create on my own in my bedroom. That makes it – potentially at least – a very personal thing. Creators can’t help but stamp their personality onto every line and shade. And, of course, they’re not just stories, they’re beautiful objects in and of themselves.

The British graphic novel market is becoming particularly exciting now, in my opinion. Rebellion have bought up a huge back catalogue of material and are now releasing stories that haven’t been available for decades, and 2000AD is still going and regularly putting out collections. The Phoenix does great stories for children, publishers like Myriad Editions, New Internationalist and Self Made Hero are putting out exceptional original material, and exporting them around the world.

There’s still a perception issue around graphic novels, but I think that is starting to break down. I’m looking forward to the day when having a handful of graphic novels on your bookshelf will be a pretty normal thing for most people.

Do you have any other projects on the horizon?

Several! I’m afraid I can’t talk about most of them, but one I can mention is an upcoming graphic novel – written by me and illustrated by John Swogger - that dramatises the two-year run-up to the Second World War, through the eyes of Neville Chamberlain. I’m fascinated by him and his period in office, the decisions he made and so on. But I’m equally fascinated by how vilified he is, and has been for 80 years or so. Yet when I started learning more about him (again, just for fun) I quickly realised that much of what we know has been oversimplified to the point that it’s essentially untrue.

I realised there were nuances and background information that were essential to understanding what he did and why, but which are largely ignored by history. So, we’re dramatising that two-year period in the hope that we can put the reader in Chamberlain’s shoes a little, and maybe reach a greater understanding of what actually happened.

It’ll probably be quite controversial, but then that’s what makes the subject interesting. I’m hoping it’ll be out by the end of next year, but it’s too early to say.

When was the last time that you were in a fight like Ralph?

Never, I’m afraid! 

A New Jerusalem, by Benjamin Dickson, is published by New Internationalist, £12.99