Independent, underground, alternative, however you want to label them, there has always been a subset of comics with one foot planted firmly in the debaucherous. These works examine the more visceral elements of human nature, shining a light on topics and scenarios that would make most cringe. Cartoonists like Chester Brown and Johnny Ryan come to mind; artists who revel in depravity and all the cartoon penises that come with it. Fantagraphics has long been a home for such comics, publishing works like the afore mentioned Ryan’s “Prison Pit,” a multi-volume collection of Tijuana Bible strips, Jason Karns’ “Fukitor,” and a litany of other like-minded works. It’s in this company that cartooning legend Gilbert Hernandez finds himself with his latest release, “Blubber” #1.
What’s this? An all-new, stand-alone, one-shot comic book from one of our greatest living cartoonists? Christmas has come early! Featuring six mostly wordless, thoroughly surreal adventures featuring a cast of misfits, monsters, and anthropomorphs that could only spring from the id of the great Hernandez, last year’s Eisner Award winner for “Best Short Story”!
Hernandez has made quite an interesting career in comics. He’s probably best known for his work in the long running “Love and Rockets,” a series that could have secured him ‘legend’ status on its own. He’s also produced a library of mini-series and graphic novels for a number of publishers, and even did a residency at DC Comics where he wrote “Birds of Prey” and, more recently, wrote and drew a Wonder Woman strip for “Sensation Comics.” Hernandez is an immensely talented storyteller who’s capable of crafting comics in a wide range of genre, which is why I was so excited by “Blubber.”
Touted as a surreal and mostly wordless single issue, “Blubber” is the work of an artist seeking to not only push the boundaries of his own storytelling, but also as a means of defying what readers could expect of him. It wouldn’t be a stretch to imagine that many of the people who picked up “Blubber” did so because of their familiarity with Hernandez’s “Love and Rockets” work, a series that is now entering its 33rd year of publication. Throughout its history Hernandez has used “Love and Rockets” to explore the fictional world of Palomar and the characters that have stemmed from it. There’s been plenty of other, non-Palomar stories to have flowed through the cartoonist and onto the series’ pages, but it is this long-running narrative that he’s best known for. These stories, while heartfelt and sometimes emotionally challenging, are most often told in a very linear way. So, with that considered, it’s no wonder that such a multi-faceted storyteller would need to cut loose from time to time.
Even with the solicitation text, I was surprised by how different “Blubber” felt from any of Hernandez’s other works I’ve read. I’ll tell you now, the guy’s been at this a while and I haven’t read close to everything he’s done, but I can’t think of anything from his bibliography that comes close to what he’s doing in this issue. Part nature documentary, part Burroughs-esque character study, “Blubber” uses themes of sexual arousal, body mutilation, emotional detachment, and consumption to explore (forgive the cliche) the human condition. At least, that’s what I think he’s exploring.
If you’re unfamiliar with any of the works listed in the opening paragraph, let me take this opportunity to tell you now “Blubber” this is not a comic for the faint of heart. Before we get past page one we see one creature gleefully masturbating and another that takes a shit while standing. If you can get past the abrasiveness of this type of imagery, then you can begin to understand them as tools Hernandez is using to indirectly make a point: certain things are unavoidable. There is no escaping human sexuality or the need to move bowels, and, despite the universal truth of it all, we’re all compelled to commit these acts behind closed doors. That’s why, when we see these things happening on the pages of a comic, we feel like it’s gross or wrong even though we all do the same.
There’s another human commonality at play here, and it’s a little less obvious. Selfishness, self-importance and entitlement all seem to be motivating forces behind the short stories contained in this issue. Sometimes the reader is led to feel that there is no way around this sort of behavior. Fictional animals carry on in ways that suit their own needs and no one else’s, as can be expected in the wild. These aren’t creatures of excess and greed, they’re merely bound by survival and perpetuation, so how can anyone view their dominance as selfishness? If these animals are stronger or smatter than those around them, then why shouldn’t they take what they need? This is a fine premise until the story “Las Vegas Lace” begins. Starring a trio of weird creatures (a duck, a pig-rabbit, and a snake lady in Kiss make-up) this story pits the idea of dominance up against social niceties. The trio are immediately seen to be unlikeable characters, and it comes from their self-important sense of entitlement. Clearly they’ve just achieved some sort of victory, most likely of the legal variety, and this story takes place immediately following. “And the finest triumph!” the pig rabbit exclaims. “I still see their faces.” the snake lady follows. The duck concludes the reveling by proclaiming, “Both the cops and the lawyers!” This all reads as abrasive boasting from a collection of characters who got away with something. Let’s say that, for conversation’s sake, it was a legal battle that ended favorably for them. That’s usually not the sort of thing that just happens. Either they had the resources to hire a good lawyer or were cunning enough to get themselves out of trouble, with either path earning them victory. Now, we don’t know anything else about these characters or their lives, so there’s no way for us to know if their victory was just or not. Like in nature, it just is. But unlike in nature, there’s a certain resentment towards these three. If this were the wild we’d expect the fittest to survive and ask nothing of whether the animals involved are ‘good’ or ‘bad,’ and we certainly would not begrudge them for being stronger or smarter than the unlucky creature that came up against them. But here, where we see this boastful lot living in our society and carrying on in an uncouth manner? Well, we don’t consider if their merits have actually earned them all that they feel entitled to, do we?
I’ve read through this 24-page comic a number of times now, and there is one reoccurring idea that I cannot figure out the meaning behind. More than a few times throughout “Blubber” the reader bears witness to enucleation, the destruction or removal of the eyeball. Sometimes it is eaten, other times popped out, and even once as a prelude to intercourse. Whatever the specifics, this is an event that happens over and over again. Maybe it’s a statement about how our society behaves uncomfortably when it comes to witnessing all of the sex and pooping I mentioned a few paragraphs ago. Maybe it’s a deep seeded fear that occupies a part of Hernandez’s psyche. Whatever the reason is, I don’t see it clearly. Maybe after a few more reads It’ll become clear, but as of this writing I cannot say that it is.
Through the entirety of “Blubber” Hernandez’s art is that of a master cartoonist. Each of his marks serve a purpose, and there isn’t an extraneous line in the entire issue. Not one of these pages feel like they are anything short of what the artist intended. If you’re familiar with Hernandez’s art then there is little here that will surprise you. Sure, the creature on the cover feels like Hernandez is experimenting with the idea of ‘funny animals,’ but the spirit of what he’s trying for is not new to his work. If you consider the cover to 1987’s “Love and Rockets” #21, or even go as far back as the rear covers to that series first two issues, and you’ll see an artist who wants to play with parameters and what it means to cartoon. Hernandez has always struck me as an artist who enjoys adapting conventional works in a way that suits his own intentions, like doing a cubist portrait of one of his characters or experimenting with funny animals.
Over the years Hernandez has worked to minimize the number of marks he puts on paper. Reading from his earliest work through “Blubber” you’ll find an artist who has finely tuned his craft. I once saw him talk the The Free Library of Philadelphia and he joked about how ‘energetic’ he once was while looking at some early “Love and Rockets.” I thought it was a humorous and charming minimization of decades of work that was oddly reflective of the art itself. It was a clean and honest statement that could have easily gotten hung up on details and minutia, but instead opted for the route that would most concisely deliver the audience to its intended destination. (If you’ve got an hour you can listen to that discussion here, and I hope you do!)
All said, I found Gilbert Hernandez’s “Blubber” #1 to be an engrossing and intriguing read. I’ve gone through the issue a number of times already, but cannot escape the feeling that there is still a lot more for me to discover on it’s pages. While the description of ‘surreal’ is apt, I feel like it falls short of what the work really is. At times it is early funny, and at others unsettling. You’d be hard pressed to find any character that you can honestly say you like, but I find that only enhanced my enjoyment overall. I’d be a fool to say that this is a comic that is for everyone, or even most people. But if you enjoy unconventional narratives and subject matter, dark humor, and masterful cartooning, then this is an issue that you should get your presumably grubby hands on. Print and digital copies are available via Fantagraphics.
