Book-It '10! Book #80
The Fifty Books Challenge, year two! This was a library request.
Title: One Hundred Demons by Lynda Barry
Details: Copyright 2002, Sasquatch Books
Synopsis (By Way of Back Cover): "NAME THAT DEMON!!! Freaky boyfriends! Shouting Moms! Innocence betrayed! Rotten things we've done that will haunt us forever! These are some of the pickled demons that Lynda Barry's stories serve up comic-strip style, mixing the true and un-true into something she calls "autobifictionalography." Inspired by a 16-th century monk's painting of a hundred demons chasing each other across a long scroll, and encouraged by a 20th century editor at Salon.com, Barry's demons jump out of these pages and double-dare you to speak their names."
Why I Wanted to Read It: I'd liked Lynda Barry's stuff when she occasionally showed up as an illustrator to some of my childhood reads. Later, Matt Groening's continued dedications to her in his Life in Hell series as "The Funk Queen of the Universe" (and once I figured out he meant that Lynda Barry) intrigued me as to her other work.
How I Liked It: The book reads, by nature, like an offhanded recollection of stories told by an artist "on a lark", a break from more serious ventures. That doesn't mean it's by any means lazy or slap-dash, though.
Each "demon" (or chapter) is a quirky story from the author's past (or not-- Barry muses in the intro "Is it autobiography if parts of it are not true? Is it fiction if parts of it are?"). Although seeming like random recollections, Barry's stories are actually well-structured (ironic, given that she claims in one chapter not to know what "story structure" means) little tales and generally contain a life-lesson.
Barry's style of drawing isn't for everyone. Her characters are almost gleefully cartoony, a day-glow Max Fleischer fest slightly more scribble-y. But the chapter openings, a pastiche of the cartoons from that particular chapter, glitter, actual photographs, dried flowers, origami art, and other scrapbook elements, are undeniably gorgeous. The intro is done on yellow legal paper, a fact Barry self-deprecatingly calls attention to when describing her inspiration for the book, a hand-scroll painted by a Zen monk in the 16th century. It's no less impressive since, unlike the story chapters, it's bordered (and the panels occasionally invaded) by what look like offhand doodles, creating a particularly ornate feel.
Barry closes the book with instructions (including technique instruction and tips plus suggestions of retailers for supplies) about how to paint one's own demons, a seemingly final statement on what she considers the book to (primarily) be: not something created for others' enjoyment and entertainment but a how-to guide with her work only a demonstration.
The book is charming, engaging, and a great primer for those interested in graphic novels (or comics/cartoons) either in creation or study.
Notable: Ah, my timeline nitpickery strikes again. This book was published in 2002-- shouldn't the backcover read "a 21st century editor at Salon.com"?
More interestingly, in the "Special Thanks", Barry declares "Matt G is still Funk Lord of the USA". Full-circle! (for me)
Title: One Hundred Demons by Lynda Barry
Details: Copyright 2002, Sasquatch Books
Synopsis (By Way of Back Cover): "NAME THAT DEMON!!! Freaky boyfriends! Shouting Moms! Innocence betrayed! Rotten things we've done that will haunt us forever! These are some of the pickled demons that Lynda Barry's stories serve up comic-strip style, mixing the true and un-true into something she calls "autobifictionalography." Inspired by a 16-th century monk's painting of a hundred demons chasing each other across a long scroll, and encouraged by a 20th century editor at Salon.com, Barry's demons jump out of these pages and double-dare you to speak their names."
Why I Wanted to Read It: I'd liked Lynda Barry's stuff when she occasionally showed up as an illustrator to some of my childhood reads. Later, Matt Groening's continued dedications to her in his Life in Hell series as "The Funk Queen of the Universe" (and once I figured out he meant that Lynda Barry) intrigued me as to her other work.
How I Liked It: The book reads, by nature, like an offhanded recollection of stories told by an artist "on a lark", a break from more serious ventures. That doesn't mean it's by any means lazy or slap-dash, though.
Each "demon" (or chapter) is a quirky story from the author's past (or not-- Barry muses in the intro "Is it autobiography if parts of it are not true? Is it fiction if parts of it are?"). Although seeming like random recollections, Barry's stories are actually well-structured (ironic, given that she claims in one chapter not to know what "story structure" means) little tales and generally contain a life-lesson.
Barry's style of drawing isn't for everyone. Her characters are almost gleefully cartoony, a day-glow Max Fleischer fest slightly more scribble-y. But the chapter openings, a pastiche of the cartoons from that particular chapter, glitter, actual photographs, dried flowers, origami art, and other scrapbook elements, are undeniably gorgeous. The intro is done on yellow legal paper, a fact Barry self-deprecatingly calls attention to when describing her inspiration for the book, a hand-scroll painted by a Zen monk in the 16th century. It's no less impressive since, unlike the story chapters, it's bordered (and the panels occasionally invaded) by what look like offhand doodles, creating a particularly ornate feel.
Barry closes the book with instructions (including technique instruction and tips plus suggestions of retailers for supplies) about how to paint one's own demons, a seemingly final statement on what she considers the book to (primarily) be: not something created for others' enjoyment and entertainment but a how-to guide with her work only a demonstration.
The book is charming, engaging, and a great primer for those interested in graphic novels (or comics/cartoons) either in creation or study.
Notable: Ah, my timeline nitpickery strikes again. This book was published in 2002-- shouldn't the backcover read "a 21st century editor at Salon.com"?
More interestingly, in the "Special Thanks", Barry declares "Matt G is still Funk Lord of the USA". Full-circle! (for me)