First edition, first printing. Soft cover. Photographically illustrated stiff wrappers; no dust jacket as issued. Illustrations and text by Lynda Barry. Designed by H. Silverman & M. Michaelson / Square Studio. 96 pp., with black-and-white illustrations throughout. 5-1/4 x 8-3/8 inches.
Someone (I can’t remember who) compared Lynda Barry’s early work favorably to George Grosz, and I agree. Not just the hysterical, comical grotesquerie of it, but the violent pen scratchings, contorted expressions, and, especially, the fact that EVERYBODY IS IN PROFILE NEARLY ALL THE TIME. That creates an unnerving dynamic: there’s that feeling like something’s horribly wrong with the other side of the person’s face and they’re trying to hide it, or they’re too twitchy to make eye contact. Something. A very interesting multiple-image transparency overlay effect creates hysterical motion: a guy waving his arms at being awoken by his alarm clock; a woman’s hands trembling because of the phone ringing, possibly with her crush on the other line. This was the era of Gary Panter and Savage Pencil and lots of punk-ish cartoons, but Barry’s stuff…I just keep coming back to Grosz again, his social grotesques, policemen and socialites in profile, often baring their genitalia, arms raised in salutes or victory marches or ugly dancing pantomimes. There is a bit of new wave humor, and as the title suggests, more than a little battle-of-the-sexes material, plus Barry’s pitch-perfect childhood fare (the Home Ec teacher says her lesson is on “Flowing and Sewing,” ho ho). But then there’s a four-paneler in which a mom (sipping a martini) announces her daughter, “your daddy is coming home…hurry and get in your PJs and get to bed.” Just then, mommy passes out on the floor. The last panel is the daughter, holding her unconscious mom (out of frame, just her arm visible) by her thumb and forefinger, tears pouring out of her bulging eyes, hissing “you leave her ALONE, daddy.” Holy hell. Not even a joke there, just a crazed little theater of cruelty moment. Then the next strip is a girl talking to herself about her new hairdo. It’s just full of those dark, fiercely realized juxtapositions.
I realize I’m late to the Barry game, but thanks to my very hip wife, I’ve got a big stack of the early years with which to educate myself, and I’m really glad to have started at the very beginning. Having also read Cruddy, a similarly beautiful and wildly unnerving book, it’s sort of a relief to know that this comic darkness has always been part of Lynda Barry’s work, and she already had a firm handle on it from the very beginning.
[guessing at the star rating / mining my old FB notes now that they are almost impossible to find]
this was not so much a graphic novel as an anthology of barry's comics from the 80's. i used to read her all the time back then, so it was a nostalgic experience. it made me realize how comics are an immediate medium and comment on current events versus novels which usually have more timeless themes.
I liked this book, as I am finding I like Lynda Barry's work in general. I didn't feel as connected with the book, perhaps because it does not have as much of a through narrative and often deals with the ugly gender roles men and women are saddled with. Still, great art and lovely writing. Every book is a new delight.
I'm a big fan of Lynda Barry's cartoons. This is the oldest collection I've read. Parts of it are hysterical but overall it's a little uneven. I think she was still finding her vision and voice at the time.
both of, and before it's time (somehow). this book is funny, sad, intense, and real. lynda barry always surprises and delivers. everyone should read this book!