Another worthy example of New York Review Comics’ vital role as an indie/alt/small press archival publisher Brad Neely’s Creased Comics compiles his offbeat gag cartoons, originally published between 1995 and 2010. Alongside returning this work to print the collection also includes interspersed notes giving background information from Neely about the evolution of the material. This provides historical and creative context and anecdotal background in a relaxed, self-deprecating but always informative fashion.
From originally being published by shoving batches of unsolicited work into the mail slot of the University of Texas student newspaper’s cartoon editor through to becoming a South Park writer and creator of the Adult Swim animated show China, IL, Neely’s own life makes for as eventful reading as his cartoons do. This accompanying commentary brings the reader closer to the work, creating the illusion that we are being directly addressed and invited into his world rather than simply observing it.
And what a striking realm it is. This is practice from an era when the Internet, where much of Creased Comics eventually found its home, at least felt like a more organic and enticing place, and that’s reflected in the richly bizarre humour on show here.
It’s obviously absurdist comedy, blending a vein of existential truth with one of unrepentant outrageousness. To analyse work like this is to explain the punchline of a joke to someone who already gets it but some scene-setting is necessary. In Creased Comics the reader will observe such portraits in bizarreness as Cupid sneaking up on Satan bow in hand while he in turn sneaks up on a praying Christ; a ventriloquist dummies’ dinner party; Christ berating super-hero rescuers during his crucifixion; and a grandmother playing a game of ‘Who’s Still Alive?’ with the kids and a photo album.
Neely’s cartooning style is direct and unfussy, ensuring the jokes hit with an immediate impact. It’s headily irreverent stuff as some of the examples here will attest, and while some gags land with more flair than others – and there’s the odd cultural reference here and there that may elude some – it’s one of those collections that once picked up you won’t put down until you’ve reached the final page of these gloriously shameless reflections on the illogicality of life.
Brad Neely (W/A) • New York Review Comics, £24.95
Review by Andy Oliver
