In December, as I was mourning the cancellation of Bored to Death, HBO’s half-hour sitcom featuring Jason Schwartzman, Zach Galifiankis and Ted Danson, I came across a book I decided to buy for my wife for Christmas. She, too, loved Bored to Death, and so when I saw The Alcoholic, written by Jonathan Ames and ILLUSTRATED by Dean Haspiel, I nearly started to weep tears of joy in the aisles of The Strand in New York City. Not only could I give the gift of Ames to my mourning wife, I could continue to bring her over to the comics side! It was almost too good of a plan.
It also allowed me to read The Alcoholic on the bus ride back to Jersey, so that was awesome, too. Hit the jump to find out more about this great tale of boozing over a lifetime.
The Alcoholic, like Bored to Death, features a fictionalized version of Ames, here titled Jonathan A. This device works surprisingly well – even though the book is not a memoir, it reads like one, and you feel the heartache, sex, and general mischief in such a stronger way when you believe they’re real. Ames is unflinching in his details; everything is presented in such a brutally honest way, both good and bad.
The main thrust of the story is A.’s relationship to alcohol and other substances, but the heart of the story is in the relationships A. has with others. From Sal, his childhood best friend, to his parents, to his lover (the name of whom keeps changing depending on where she lives – Manhattan, San Francisco, Chicago, Seattle), many of the people who mean the most to A. disappear, some tragically, some unexpectedly, and others feel almost uncomfortably expected. With all of these relationships, Ames is free to place the blame squarely on his fictionalized version – in fact, besides for Seattle (her final name), the other characters all appear, most times, to be near perfect.
This is especially true for Great Aunt Sadie, the one constant in A.’s life. A feisty old Jewish woman, Sadie is his rock; albeit a rock that has no idea what serious problems her nephew has. This character, to me, was rife to be the final, devastating blow that would send Ames into a never-ending spiral of drugs and booze but – although bruised, she remains ok in the end.
This would have been a very good Ames short story; however, Haspiel’s art elevates it considerably. Haspiel, my personal favorite non-R. Crumb artist to work on American Splendor, really shines here – he manages to simultaneously make A.’s lifestyle appealing and horrifying at just about every turn. The drinking looks amazing, and the puking humiliating. I couldn’t find a picture of it, but the way he draws A. running to get to the bathroom in order not to shit his pants with diarrhea is worth the price of admission alone.
This is a sad story that makes me laugh a whole lot too, and manages to include the most standard tear jerker of the 21st century (hint: it rhymes with Wine Meleven) and not make it maudlin. Instead, it is treated as it was: a horrible, horrible day, that changed everything, and then, suddenly, everything was the same again. It is a rare, honest approach to tragedy.
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| A. and Sal |
I went into this book expecting Bored to Death – all cartoon cocks and white wine – and I got something different; not better or worse, but different. I don’t know if Ames is planning on doing more graphic fiction, but i would hope he is, because his pace, humor and, yes, sadness, truly translates well to this medium. It doesn’t hurt that Haspiel, one of the best in the business, is helping out here. He is truly a master of taking personal stories and making them something we can all relate to. And, even though I’m not an alcoholic (although I hate to admit how many of these scenes seemed familiar), I related to nearly every panel in this book.
