Broken Frontier

Harvey Pekar is at it again. This time he’s brought an all-star art team to help him. Maybe that’s because this time, finally, Harvey’s gone mainstream.

Harvey Pekar’s stories are matter-of-fact somber, short, spastic at times, and simple with a kind of "real world" (the actual real world, not the MTV show that has nothing to do with it) feel that is difficult to quantify in a comic book because, frankly, it is odd to see in something so mainstream. In his first serial foray out of the underground, Pekar tells his readers about the sad fate of his folks, his relationship with his daughter, and the meandering moments of life that piss you off, scare you, and make you laugh. Can stories like this really be so powerful? With Pekar writing, the answer is yes, yes, and yes again.

Harvey Pekar is a storyteller in the vein of Mark Twain. In fact, the man reminds me of one of Twain’s stories wherein a character goes to Heaven and discovers there was a farmer from the middle of nowhere who was the greatest writer to have ever lived. No one knew this when he was alive because he was a farmer who no one knew. That man could very well be Pekar. His narration is somber and aged, with a wisdom hardened from a hard life. No, he wasn’t in any war and no, he hasn’t seen any atrocities like genocide or atom bombs up close, but he has lived with open eyes in a world full of people with closed ones and he knows it. His stories in this issue, capturing the everyday events of aging, fathering, and traveling convey a bigger message about existence. Is it "That’s the way it is, live with it," or something more existential? I can’t say for Pekar or you. But I can say when you read it you will come to a better understanding of your parents, your kids, and yourself. It is more than your average comic.

Perhaps the fact that this is more than your average comic is what attracted this laundry list of excellent artists. Glenn Fabry does a cover that harkens back to classic comics with telling word balloons giving us a hint of what is to come. Ty Templeton’s frighteningly realistic style on the moving tale of Pekar’s parents and their inevitable descent into old age sends shivers down your spine. The far less mainstream Hilary Barta covers the two-page laugh-out-loud satirical review of the most talked about novel in America since Harry Potter (The DaVinci Code in case you were wondering). The book ends with the under appreciated Greg Budgett and Gary Dumm’s take on Pekar’s opinions on airplane travel since 9-11.

All of these artists do a fine, fine job giving Vertigo Comics the underground feel it has been vying for since day one. But the most pleasing artist in this issue is Dean Haspiel who walks the thin red line of underground and mainstream so fine it seems he was meant to draw Pekar’s first big company comic. The hard lines, heavy shades, and sporadic paneling are distinctly underground. At the same time, Haspiel’s style, which was light years ahead of the game when he first hit the scene, is now emulated by artists working for Marvel, Image, DDP, and DC. This fact, his style, and the current trend in comics towards a more cartoonish look, combine beautifully here, creating a beautiful comic.

Though I may have my qualms about a black and white comic for the sake of a black and white comic, the excellence in every other aspect of this book far outweighs any complaints I might have. At a time when Civil War is being waged and weekly installments of the same story litter the shelves, striving, sometimes in vain, to be "real," Pekar does it with ease. He talks about life, death, love, and existence like no writer in the industry. He is unbelievably modest, painfully honest, and always inspiring.