A curious but enlightening hybrid format, here: the sort of process work and early character sketches you'd expect to find in the back of a comics collection, combined with a prose memoir of Lemire's quarter-century comics career. Which, if you're a big fan of his (I'd consider myself a moderate one) is obviously invaluable – and if you're an artist too, is even more so, as he gets into his techniques and methods. Hell, I'm not, and there was still a eureka moment on learning that his distinctive scratchy look owes something to drawing with the back of pens, not the nib.
More than that, though, the remarkable thing is how the life recounted doesn't look at all like the sort you normally expect in a creative autobiography – no all-consuming celebrity romances, chaotic benders or crippling Toblerone addiction. Instead, it's life as we were always told it's meant to go – Lemire finds his talent early, self-publishes, does some acclaimed indie comics, a bit of superhero work, back to bigger indie titles, a couple of TV shows made from his work. Along the way he marries, they still seem really into each other, every few chapters they move into a bigger house... it's how I expected adulthood to go as a kid (and I'm about the same age), but for most of our cohort it doesn't seem to have worked out anything like this smoothly – which is ironic when that's the last word you'd use of his art. Yes, he's had some mental health wobbles, and his time in corporate comics offers tantalising hints of gossip – "I soon learned that other writers would jealously try to sabotage your career and your work for their own gain, and editors had agendas of their own, and would try to force those on you" – but he's politely/understandably/frustratingly reluctant to name names, and even when eg admitting Futures End was a disaster, and saying he could write ten paragraphs on why, he doesn't, because he'd rather talk about the lovely time he had with the friends he made working on it. Hell, he even ends by openly offering this book as the counterpoint to Kirby's immortal "Comics will break your heart, kid", before a reprint of his first ever self-publication shows quite how far he's stayed true to his gift and himself. When so many people look back on their own history in comics, or the field as a whole, with venom and pseudonyms, I can't but be happy about a wholesome account of a solid creator who's pretty happy with how it went. But I'd still love to have a chat with him after a couple of drinks and hear those ten paragraphs.