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Wilson h/c

Wilson h/c Wilson h/c Wilson h/c Wilson h/c

Wilson h/c back

Daniel Clowes


Page 45 Review by Stephen

Wilson accosting a stranger trying to type diligently on his laptop in a cafe:

"Hey brother - mind if I sit here?"
"It looks like there's plenty of empty tables..."
"I know, but I like to sit by the window. You working?"
"Good man. Wife? Kids?"
"That's beautiful. Living the Dream..."
"Hey, shit-head - I'm talking to you!"

That's Wilson: philosopher, philanthropist, bon viveur... Actually he's a case study in self-centred misanthropy and deluded hypocrisy, constantly craving an ear yet too self-involved to lend anyone his own; paying lip-service to self-awareness and comprehending the world around him, but the first to give up if any thought or empathy is required. He's a man who values a decent day's work but has never done one himself; a family man without a family.

"I keep forgetting that my father is still alive."

One of the funniest books I have read in a very long time, it's 71 single-page gags, their final lines beautifully undercutting the panels that precede them as Wilson begins to pine for an ex-wife he never really loved and, tracking her down, discovers she had a daughter sixteen years ago whom she gave up for fostering. Don't skip ahead because on attempting to establish contact with his daughter, the whole thing goes monumentally tits up in a way that only Wilson could manage.

Clowes cleverly lays down elements early on that later turn into punchlines, circles back round to characters you thought long-abandoned, and he uses a variety of styles and colour schemes for each fresh page depending upon its contents. Radically different from any of his previous books (GHOST WORLD, DAVID BORING etc. - all in stock), it's the first graphic novel not culled from the periodical EIGHTBALL, more of which I really don't think we'll be seeing under this industry's current trends

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