With “Please Don’t Step On My JNCO Jeans,” cartoonist Noah Van Sciver brings us yet again into his world- anxieties great and small, embarrassments subtle and overt, memories painful and endearing, in a collection of strips published in various local papers now curated into this one (slim) volume. For longtime fans of Van Sciver’s self-deprecating and scathing humor, or perhaps as an introductory piece to the versatile cartoonist, this book is a worthy addition to any collection.
Written and Illustrated by Noah Van Sciver
Eisner-nominee Van Sciver returns with a collection of hilarious and poignant short comics stories. From 2017 to 2019, cartoonist Noah Van Sciver was creating short stories and illustrations for local magazines and alt-weeklies, in order to serve as what he calls a personal “survival mechanism.” All of these comics are collected for the first time in “Please Don’t Step On My JNCO Jeans.” When do you know you’re too old to trick-or-treat? What’s the best way to effectively dispose of those teenage ode-filled journals? Where do cherished cereal box prizes go when you grow up? JNCO Jeans, mostly told through one-pagers, holds observations, reflections, and breakthroughs from one of the most prolific and inspirational cartoonists of his generation.
Let us first address the elephant in the room: JNCO Jeans. A brand popularized in the late 90’s/early aughts, it was a short-lived fashion staple of skater culture, the jeans having extraordinarily wide pant legs (to what purpose? – social scientists still have yet to determine). It’s the kind of fashion that, when invoked in memory (especially if you wore them), you feel a second-hand embarrassment for the “person-that-was,” the younger self still figuring things out, adopting styles for no other reason than “It’s not how my parents are dressing.” Van Sciver elegantly takes this trivial bit of his own past and thrusts them into the present with a short strip about receiving a box of old clothes from his mom and, not realizing he would be forced to rush out of the house and attend a party with his girlfriend, decides to try these old JNCO’s on. It is because of his earnestness and humility about his own past (either distant or recent) that we find comfort in his stories.
It should also be said here that in the realm of autobio strips, there already exists a vast sea of “middle-aged white guys” doing similar things, so your mileage may vary on how well you connect to these strips, if at all. However, even in this short collection, there is many a laugh to be had- Van Sciver is as adept at a 4-panel joke as he is at longer narratives, and he often makes the joke blisteringly self-deprecating, or, as is often the case, universally appealing. Many strips in this collection note the “signs of the times” – social media addiction, depression, finances, common human frailties that Van Sciver deftly cues in on and lambasts in a way that can be recognized and appreciated by nearly anyone.
The book, clocking in at a breezy 94 pages, can be read (as I did) in a single sitting, and, if you’re like me, you’ll feel left wanting. Though curated across strips published in various zines and alt-weeklies over the course of a couple years, this seems far from a comprehensive look at those years, autobiographically speaking. It reads more like a “Best Of” from his weekly strips (published most often in the alt-weekly Columbus Alive), with smatterings of other ideas/strips/portraits/scenes scattered throughout. Frankly, I feel like this is where the book, as a collection, really sings. While I can always appreciate Van Sciver’s sense of humor and plumbing his memories to re-contextualize his past, it is the interstitial selections that really help this work coalesce. Be it random images of Van Sciver drawing himself as different Universal Monsters, quick strips of a “cat adventures” comic that keeps getting away from Van Sciver, or disarmingly beautiful single image scenes or landscapes, Van Sciver punctuates his strips with charming diversions, so that even in the 94 pages we’re served, we never get the sense of repetitiveness or stagnation.
Van Sciver has noted at balking at the idea of being “prolific,” but one can’t help but think about his output this past decade and consider otherwise. One of the biggest draws for me to his work is not knowing what to expect next- as he has produced works of profound beauty (as in his graphic memoir “One Dirty Tree,” or the revelatory “The Hypo: The Melancholic Young Lincoln”), keen and sympathetic insight (as in his graphic novels “Saint Cole” or “Fante Bukowski”), or just damned funny (his comic series “Blammo”). Within the artist contains a multitude of genres, waiting to burst out onto the page- that kind of energetic and varied creativity is the kind to simply marvel at and be envious of. So here, too, with “JNCO Jeans,” Van Sciver puts on a different hat, sharpens a different set of skills, and treats readers with a small (but considered) sampling of his abilities.
There is a terrific four panel strip towards the end of this book that seems like a great summation of this collection. We see the artist, who Van Sciver tends to draw resembling, well, himself, but also reminiscent of how Bill Watterson would draw himself – mustachioed, thinning hair, and bespectacled. Noah is at his laptop and while we don’t see what he’s looking at, we can safely assume it’s the current events, spinning wildly, apocalyptically out of control. The artist appears frazzled to the point of shock and stupor, and numbly gets up from his computer in the second panel. In the third, his mind still a chaotic jumble of images, he lays down on the couch with a book, and by the last panel, the world, in all it’s rage and fury, has washed away. This is the beauty, the comfort, and slight reprieve of a good book. That same reprieve I was afforded when I opened “JNCO Jeans” would not keep the world from spinning. Not entirely. But for a short while one afternoon I got to chortle the time away, forget my own troubles and snicker at someone else’s, and I heartily recommend that, via this collection, to anyone in need.
