Who’s ready to get sad? That’s probably not a great way start to a review, but I should get it out of the way that Graham Annable’s short comics, collected in lovely hardback by Dark Horse, kind of bummed me out. They also made me laugh and generally just feel stuff, which is about all you can ask from a solid collection anyway.
Written and illustrated by Graham Annable
Get ready for the most extensive journey ever into the brilliant mind of Graham Annable! A classically trained animator with credits in film (including as a storyboard artist on Coraline), television, and video games, Annable has for years spent his free time creating some of the funniest, most poignant comics anywhere. As befits his animation background, Annable’s fluid art pulses with life, in stories that practically jump off the page. Alternately poetic and hilarious, Grickle presents a strange twist on the everyday with heart and humor. If you’ve experienced Grickle before, this is the greatest collection yet. If you haven’t, there’s no better introduction than Book of Grickle!
I first encountered Annable’s work in the point-and-click adventure game Puzzle Agent. Though it was set in the Midwest (and had a Fargo sort of vibe), something about the cartooning style made me suspect its progenitor was Canadian. And what do you know: Annable, known best for his animation work, hails from The Soo!
My killer intuition aside, there is something arresting about Annable’s stripped-down art. The lines are sure, the posing effortless, the faces so expressive it hurts. And the googly-eyed intensity of the portrayals adds a layer of darkness to it all – a darkness that is paid off as the stories reach their conclusions.
Content-wise, the tales are pretty diverse: you get a satire on corporations, a yarn about an annoying friend, a couple of fables, and even some science fiction. There are suicides and nightmares, dead wombats and quirky visitors, eccentric doctors and alien mind-melds; and besides the darkness I mentioned, the unifying thread is Annable’s peculiar sense of timing.
Every panel has a squirrelly energy to it, generated somewhere between the simple compositions and those bulgey eyeballs. It’s the same frittery feeling that lets you know, at first glance, that a cartoon on TV isn’t for kids – and it makes every little turn or reveal hit like a lightning bolt.
The humour is less of the set up and punchline variety, though, and more situational, sneaking in via the sheer awfulness of a particular scenario. There’s even some schadenfreude involved when an elderly man decides to freak out his grandson. This is another moment where Annable’s handle on facial expression really shines.
Not every comic works; a few ramble a little too long and land far of their mark, if they ever had one. You’re liable to have loves and hates as you progress through the book. And if you’re anything like me, you’ll find Annable is at his best when the irony is more oblique.
The subdued tone of “Wee Man” makes it the most memorable story, and the one that stands best on its own. Detailing the exploits of a strange, small visitor who troubles his host by drawing constantly, it’s melancholy but sweet. And while its ending is somewhat ambiguous, its polished feel makes for a satisfying conclusion to the collection.
“Anhedonia” isn’t exactly a buzzword these days; people prefer to throw around “depression” and leave its cousin to the psychology textbooks. But if there ever was a book that toed the line between whimsy and hopelessness – inhabiting the sphere where every thought, impulse and concept seems so devoid of meaning that it’s ridiculous – it would probably be this weird little collection. I’m not sure if that’s a selling point, but it certainly makes “The Book of Grickle” unique, and a worthwhile expedition for anybody with a touch of the blues – or the greys.
