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Through the Habitrails
Book by Nicholson, Jeff
144 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1994
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Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews
May 24, 2012
In my employment history, I have been remarkably blessed by a progression of totally awesome bosses, wonderful people I have busted my ass for, not because they "outrank" me, but because they are dear friends who deserve my best efforts. But long ago, there was an exception: I was assigned an awful, sisyphean task, working for an awful, sadistic person (and if any of my former or current bosses are reading this and worrying, I promise it's not you, you're all in the awesome category). During that period, I sincerely wondered if I was gonna make it through. It took herculean effort just to get out of bed every day because I hated life THAT much.
About that time, I came across "Through the Habitrails," Jeff Nicholson's workplace nightmare, serialized in the underground comix anthology "Taboo" (which is also where Alan Moore's seminal "From Hell" got its start). I thought "Habitrails" was brilliant, but it was almost too painful to read. Its bleak miseries hit too close to home for me. "Taboo," like many independent projects, was an unstable creation published irregularly and constantly teetering on the brink of destruction. Well, it toppled before "Habitrails" (or any of its other serials) got a chance to conclude.
Nicholson did manage to get his complete story published in its own book, and I was happy to buy it, but at that point, life had gotten better. The evil boss had moved on. I was happier, more fulfilled in my job. I didn't want to revisit the world of "Habitrails," it would trigger unpleasant associations. So it sat and yellowed in a pile of other books waiting to be read until I finally told myself to stop being such a baby and go see how the whole thing came out in the end. I was going to call the story Kafkaesque, but "Taboo" editor Stephen Bissette writes in his introduction about how overused and played out that term is. Right before he calls "Habitrails" "absolutely, genuinely Kafkaesque." He said it, I didn't.
Imagine the corporate environment of "Dilbert" without the saving grace of humor. Well, OK, I guess Scott Adams has already taken care of that. But imagine that it's not only unfunny but soul-crushingly depressing. That's the world of second-floor production, where the workers are hunched over, their backs permanently bowed, their eyes vacant. Nicholson draws them with no mouths for they essentially have no voice. Maniacally grinning salespeople punch taps into the workers' bodies to drain them of their creativity. "I am needed to think of things others are incapable of," the nameless narrator says, "while those same people are draining the juices necessary to do it." That juice is fed to gerbils -- "bred as empaths for despair by the company" -- that run through an intricate network of habitrails in the building.
The narrator finds outlets from his daily drudgery in alcohol (he pickles his own head in a jar full of beer) and acts of animal cruelty. As if the workplace wasn't awful enough, Nicholson also delves into the hell of relationships in the blisteringly raw "Cat Lover." It's the kind of story that crawls in your brain, nestles down and starts to fester.
The art is crude, and the text could've used a final scrub by a copy editor, but almost 20 years after its original publication, "Habitrails" remains an unrelentingly challenging work that's lost little of its power to unsettle. I hear Nicholson has been working on a sequel. I'll just start shuddering now to save time.
About that time, I came across "Through the Habitrails," Jeff Nicholson's workplace nightmare, serialized in the underground comix anthology "Taboo" (which is also where Alan Moore's seminal "From Hell" got its start). I thought "Habitrails" was brilliant, but it was almost too painful to read. Its bleak miseries hit too close to home for me. "Taboo," like many independent projects, was an unstable creation published irregularly and constantly teetering on the brink of destruction. Well, it toppled before "Habitrails" (or any of its other serials) got a chance to conclude.
Nicholson did manage to get his complete story published in its own book, and I was happy to buy it, but at that point, life had gotten better. The evil boss had moved on. I was happier, more fulfilled in my job. I didn't want to revisit the world of "Habitrails," it would trigger unpleasant associations. So it sat and yellowed in a pile of other books waiting to be read until I finally told myself to stop being such a baby and go see how the whole thing came out in the end. I was going to call the story Kafkaesque, but "Taboo" editor Stephen Bissette writes in his introduction about how overused and played out that term is. Right before he calls "Habitrails" "absolutely, genuinely Kafkaesque." He said it, I didn't.
Imagine the corporate environment of "Dilbert" without the saving grace of humor. Well, OK, I guess Scott Adams has already taken care of that. But imagine that it's not only unfunny but soul-crushingly depressing. That's the world of second-floor production, where the workers are hunched over, their backs permanently bowed, their eyes vacant. Nicholson draws them with no mouths for they essentially have no voice. Maniacally grinning salespeople punch taps into the workers' bodies to drain them of their creativity. "I am needed to think of things others are incapable of," the nameless narrator says, "while those same people are draining the juices necessary to do it." That juice is fed to gerbils -- "bred as empaths for despair by the company" -- that run through an intricate network of habitrails in the building.
The narrator finds outlets from his daily drudgery in alcohol (he pickles his own head in a jar full of beer) and acts of animal cruelty. As if the workplace wasn't awful enough, Nicholson also delves into the hell of relationships in the blisteringly raw "Cat Lover." It's the kind of story that crawls in your brain, nestles down and starts to fester.
The art is crude, and the text could've used a final scrub by a copy editor, but almost 20 years after its original publication, "Habitrails" remains an unrelentingly challenging work that's lost little of its power to unsettle. I hear Nicholson has been working on a sequel. I'll just start shuddering now to save time.
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September 4, 2025The quality of the chapters vary, and some of the visual metaphor is very unsubtle, but the art is cool and it contains some interesting ideas within. I especially enjoyed the way that the narrative weaves nonlinearly between chapters that focus on specific aspects and incidents in the life of the main character.
The original ending is clichéd and annoying in the "all you need to be happy is the perfect girlfriend that completes you" kind of way that tons of stories about depression seem to love doing. The new ending is a little bit too autobiographical for my tastes.
The original ending is clichéd and annoying in the "all you need to be happy is the perfect girlfriend that completes you" kind of way that tons of stories about depression seem to love doing. The new ending is a little bit too autobiographical for my tastes.
April 16, 2024
A representation of madness as metaphor become reality. An amazing use of symbolism.
Normally I can not tolerate animal cruelty in fiction (or anywhere else, of course) but this book is so surreal I could manage.
Normally I can not tolerate animal cruelty in fiction (or anywhere else, of course) but this book is so surreal I could manage.
August 30, 2011
My wife and I have often argued in the past about how likable characters do or do not affect how much we like a story and why. I have always argued that an unlikeable character or narrator doesn't inherently give me a lesser view of the tale.
Until now.
Let me just say that through the entirety of the book, I hoped it would end with the narrator being murdered in a painful way. (and if parts of the story are autobiographical, I had similar thoughts about the author, I must admit.).
Now, I could have probably overcome that sheer hatred and given more stars (I'd like to point out here that it only received a second star out of my desire to attempt to step back and judge it fairly) if the stories presented didn't seem, for the most part, self-pitying cliches. There are a few moments that rise above (hence the second star), but that's all they are - small moments in a sea of droning "me me me."
Honestly, the whole narrative feels a little too caught up in early nineties zeitgeist and doesn't step out of it or truly distinguish itself in any way. It's tale of suffering under the mind-numbing weight of the corporate machine has been done to death - and by much better writers. This narrator seems so blinded by self that this entire tome comes across as literary masturbation and little else.
Until now.
Let me just say that through the entirety of the book, I hoped it would end with the narrator being murdered in a painful way. (and if parts of the story are autobiographical, I had similar thoughts about the author, I must admit.).
Now, I could have probably overcome that sheer hatred and given more stars (I'd like to point out here that it only received a second star out of my desire to attempt to step back and judge it fairly) if the stories presented didn't seem, for the most part, self-pitying cliches. There are a few moments that rise above (hence the second star), but that's all they are - small moments in a sea of droning "me me me."
Honestly, the whole narrative feels a little too caught up in early nineties zeitgeist and doesn't step out of it or truly distinguish itself in any way. It's tale of suffering under the mind-numbing weight of the corporate machine has been done to death - and by much better writers. This narrator seems so blinded by self that this entire tome comes across as literary masturbation and little else.
March 28, 2016
From the introduction:
”I often compare the act of storytelling to that process of playing cards, specifically certain poker strategies. When do you show which card? Why? What card do you keep close to your best?”
I love this analogy!
I think I would describe this as more horrific than horror as the introduction suggests.
But, damn! You get that feeling of creepiness, emptiness, and loss from page 1!
You can relate to a lot of this. Living for someone else who (literally!) taps the creative juices from you for nefarious purposes.
The misogyny kind of smacks you in the face - but then you realize it's supposed to - that it's part of the life he leads but shouldn't. "She would be so lovely, if…" speaks to his own insecurities, not the shortcomings of the women around him.
I think it's the same thing with his relationship with cats.
I'm not sure what the moral of this book is. But maybe it's this:
When the Gerbil King tells you, "I can get you to the end safely," don't listen to him. He can’t.
Thanks to NetGalley and Dover Publications for a copy in return for an honest review.
”I often compare the act of storytelling to that process of playing cards, specifically certain poker strategies. When do you show which card? Why? What card do you keep close to your best?”
I love this analogy!
I think I would describe this as more horrific than horror as the introduction suggests.
But, damn! You get that feeling of creepiness, emptiness, and loss from page 1!
You can relate to a lot of this. Living for someone else who (literally!) taps the creative juices from you for nefarious purposes.
The misogyny kind of smacks you in the face - but then you realize it's supposed to - that it's part of the life he leads but shouldn't. "She would be so lovely, if…" speaks to his own insecurities, not the shortcomings of the women around him.
I think it's the same thing with his relationship with cats.
I'm not sure what the moral of this book is. But maybe it's this:
When the Gerbil King tells you, "I can get you to the end safely," don't listen to him. He can’t.
Thanks to NetGalley and Dover Publications for a copy in return for an honest review.
May 30, 2011
A pretty harrowing take on working life. I enjoyed the way Nicholson introduces fantastic elements (i.e., fantasy) in order to create a reality that is "more real than real." There's a lot of self-loathing, some scenes that may make readers uncomfortable because of their violence. The narrator in general lacks empathy but for anyone who has found themselves transformed (unfavorably) by their workplace a lot of this subject matter will resonate.
Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews