McSweeney’s: Much Melancholy

In my reading of McSweeney’s 13, I was a little surprised at the overwhelmingly melancholy tone of the comics included. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised given the warning Ira Glass includes in his Preface.

“It’s funny to think these melancholic figures are such national icons. It makes me feel like I have something in common with my countrymen. Apparently we’re a nation of losers,” he notes, after commenting briefly on Charlie Brown.

But Charlie Brown is in his own category, I think to myself. It’s a comic about a loser. We know what we are getting into when we read it. But then there’s Garfield… (check out garfieldminusgarfield.com for the saddest strips you’ll ever see). Perhaps Calvin and Hobbes have disproportionately influenced my perception of comics.

The majority of the strips included in the issue feature some kind of melancholy. One of the first strips, My Day, by Seth, documents a typical day in a comic writer’s life. The frames move action to action, and are explained by word bubbles that aren’t limited to containing speech. “7-AM Arise,” says the first one. Later, “I am no good!” he exclaims, sweating at this desk, massive frown plastered on his face. The brightest spots in the day are when he receives a package, “E-Bay!” and in between 2-3PM, “I’m a genius!”. However, this self-confidence doesn’t last forever. After 8, “This is the worst art ever!” and after midnight, the most telling line, “I chose this life!” The strip is both a gloomy presentation of habit and ritual and a good-humored and self-deprecating joke.

Next, The Unbearable Tediousness of Being. I won’t even write about it, the title speaks for itself.

One of my favorites was Two Questions by Lynda Barry—a child’s graphic memoir, documenting her anxieties about identity and individuality. The story is about Barry’s anxieties stemming from early reward and shame, from the approval and disgust of others. It is beautifully drawn, cram packed with text and thought bubbles and speech bubbles and non sequitur doodles and decorations. It’s like the doodles we all made in history class in seventh grade, but much, much better. Drawings that tell the story are featured in each frame, but on the periphery are a collection of doodles like ghosts, octopuses, monkeys, and rabbits. Each page is divided into two panels that harbor scenes that mesh into one another. These ghosts and octopuses wrap themselves around the artist and seem to reflect the tumultuous psyche of the writer. The gutter is tiny compared to the large panels, but is a welcome rest from the chaotic world of each frame.

These comics highlight the mundane nature of our every day lives, often incorporating an ironic, but still melancholy twist. It may just be as Glass says. The appeal may lie in feeling like we have something in common with our countrymen and perhaps there is comfort in reading strips about those that have it substantially worse than you. There is something about comics that makes reading them, not “seem like reading.” Which is probably good because I would hate to read melancholy takes on ordinary and mundane lives.