Herve Boileau, an unremarkable Parisian, suddenly finds his every perception broadcasting to the entire world. Whenever anyone, anywhere, closes their eyes, they see what he sees, hear what he hears. Suddenly his girlfriend's waning interest in him revives – but only because he's the best audition imaginable. Every business sees him as an opportunity to advertise. Wherever he goes, people converge on him, desperate to pass on a message to an old flame, an enemy, the whole world. Obviously this is an Internet metaphor, but I liked it much more for the fact that that's never made explicit, and no character is ever quite annoying enough to say 'And really, isn't that a lot like Twitter, aaaah?' Which said, it did also remind me of an RA Lafferty story I read recently, in which the protagonist had the reverse problem, and that was from decades pre-Internet. Anyway, friends and foes both have ideas for how this newfound gift/curse could be monetised, so before long Herve is on the run, and if at times this does leave the comic on the verge of generic thriller territory, it's mostly rescued by the obvious complication that anything he can see or hear, everyone else can too. I imagine this may put it in vaguely similar territory to films like Bird Box and A Quiet Place, though not having seen either, I can't be altogether sure. At first my main issue was that Herve was a bit of an arsehole, and not in a terribly interesting way, so I didn't necessarily want to spend an entire story in his company, but of course that's part of the point – which of us wouldn't be infuriating if someone couldn't escape our every little foible and daft habit?* Possibly the funniest section comes when the moment Herve has been dreading all day finally arrives, and he has to take a dump with the whole world able to see - and smell - what he does, the poor bastard. I'd largely given up on requesting Europe Comics ARCs from Netgalley, because I simply don't have the frame of reference to know which ones might be up my alley, and too often I was reading stuff which clearly wasn't bad, but also wasn't doing much for me. I made an exception here, because I recognised Trondheim's name as one with a certain cachet, and having read this I can see why.
*A question all the more topical in this locked-down nightmare decade, of course, but while Omni-Visibilis is appearing in English now, it was originally published ten years ago.