Legendary cartoonist Seth’s magnum opus Clyde Fans appeared on twenty best of the year lists, including The New York Times, The Guardian, and Washington Post. The first graphic novel nominated for the Giller, Canada’s prestigious national fiction prize, it was also nominated for the Eisner and Trillium Awards.
Clyde Fans peels back the optimism of mid-twentieth century capitalism, showing the rituals, hopes, and delusions of a vanished middle-class—garrulous men in wool suits extolling their wares to taciturn shopkeepers. Like the myth of an ever-growing economy, the Clyde Fans family business is a fraud. The patriarch has abandoned it to mismatched sons, one who strives to keep the company afloat and the other who retreats into his memories.
Abe and Simon Matchcard are brothers, struggling to save their archaic family business selling oscillating fans in a world switching to air conditioning. Simon flirts with becoming a salesman as a last-ditch effort to leave the protective walls of the family home, but is ultimately unable to escape Abe’s critical voice in his head. As Clyde Fans Co. crumbles, so does the relationship between the two men, who choose very different life paths but both end up utterly unhappy.
Seth’s intimate storytelling and gorgeous art allow cityscapes and detailed period objects to tell their own stories as the brothers struggle to find themselves suffocating in an airless home.
Seth, born Gregory Gallant in Clinton, Ontario, is a Canadian cartoonist celebrated for his distinctive visual style, deep sense of nostalgia, and influential contributions to contemporary comics. Known for the long-running series Palookaville and the widely acclaimed graphic novel It’s a Good Life, If You Don’t Weaken, he developed an aesthetic shaped by mid-20th-century magazine cartooning, particularly from The New Yorker, which he blends with themes rooted in Southern Ontario’s cultural memory. After studying at the Ontario College of Art and becoming part of Toronto’s punk-influenced creative scene, he adopted the pen name Seth and began gaining recognition through his work on Mister X. His friendships with fellow cartoonists Chester Brown and Joe Matt formed a notable circle within autobiographical comics of the early 1990s, where each depicted the others in their work. With Palookaville, published by Drawn & Quarterly, Seth refined his signature atmosphere of reflection, melancholy, and visual elegance. Beyond cartooning, he is an accomplished designer and illustrator, responsible for the celebrated book design of the ongoing complete Peanuts collection from Fantagraphics, as well as archival editions of Doug Wright and John Stanley. His graphic novels Clyde Fans, Wimbledon Green, and George Sprott explore memory, identity, and the passage of time through richly composed drawings and narrative restraint. Seth also constructs detailed cardboard architectural models of his imagined city, Dominion, which have been exhibited in major Canadian art institutions. He continues to live and work in Guelph, Ontario, noted for his influential role in shaping literary comics.
“I liked to watch the real salesmen--the old-time travelers. A lot could be learned from those guys. Those fellas had plenty of charm. They used to say that sincerity sells--and if you can fake that, you've got it made"--Abe, in Clyde Fans
A masterpiece, the graphic novel event of the year (well, it's early, so there may indeed be many more), a 480-page tome, gorgeously rendered by author Seth and Drawn & Quarterly. No one in comics loves the description "graphic novel," and Seth calls it a "picture novel," which I like even better, and it has been TWENTY YEARS in the making! As with the similarly decades long accomplishment of the previous year, Jason Lutes' Berlin, this book is ambitious and meticulous and moving.
But whereas Berlin, set in the Weimar Republic as the Naziis began to assume power, has this massive historical and political scope, Clyde Fans creates a much smaller world, though seen with as incisive a lens: The story of two brothers, one of them, Abe, working in his father's fan business, and his brother Simon taking care of their mother. All three of them are less than likable or admirable, they live lives of quiet desperation, they talk to themselves and/or objects in the rooms they inhabit almost exclusively alone.
But Seth has a kind of two-edged approach here to the past, to memory, that imbues the landscape of this book, that both celebrates the past and also reveals how we can sometimes be trapped in it. There's a kind of achingly loving and melancholy nostalgia that infuses everything that Seth does that is especially evident in this work. Not everyone will love it, of course, it's muted, it is so much like Chris Ware's crushingly sad and yet thrillingly executed masterpieces Jimmy Corrigan and Building Stories. Yes, this book is that good. But it is also that sad.
Seth, Abe and Simon love craft--quality fans, novelty postcards, comics--and they can't quite keep up with the present. The book tacks back and forth between 1957, 1975 and 1997 as we see the lovely and almost reverent respect Seth gives to this old, by-gone vestige of a small business world that was already in 1957 (beginning to be) eaten up by big box corporations. At least part of this book is about capitalism, I guess, but to only say that would be to ignore the respectful close look this book takes of this one working class family that was permanently damaged, never to recover when Dad Clyde left the family, never to return. It's a respectful, pained look at the death or at least struggles of the salesman. I love the wordless pages to show the Canadian small town streets and buildings, so deserted and lost. They're all losing it, Abe, Simon, and mother, in their own slowly decaying ways, but you really come to care for them because Seth does. A Canadian Winesburg, Ohio, of sorts.
So: A masterpiece, and as it goes with masterpieces, not fun for everyone, it's work you need to read closely and live into, it's work as the best literary fiction can be, it's not about people you love and admire, it's about real working-class people, not heroes, but it's an amazing accomplishment.
I reviewed Book 1 long ago, and also excerpts published in other places of this book as it developed. It's been worth the wait, and I'll read it again soon. Check out any of his work you can get your hands on.
Seth has done it again; Death of a Salesman on the installment plan with the Metamorphosis of a man who could not break out of the cocoon of his own doubts. When you start to add up your days against the balance of the time you have left what do you find? Did you live your own life, or did you live in the shadow of expectation? Highest recommendation.
This is a beautifully drawn graphic novel about nostalgia, insanity, the impermanence of passing time and ultimately the story of two brothers. It reminded me several times of French graphic artist Lewis Trondheim and his epic Lapinot et les carottes de Patagonie when Simon’s mind started to drift.
The plot revolves around Abe and Seth Matchcard and the ventilation fan business they inherited from their father whose sudden abandonment of them and their mother had a lasting impact on their lives. With the advent of air conditioning, their business slowly dries up and Abe is forced to close the factory. Simon is unable to become a salesman and is too dreamy to run the business. Meanwhile, their mother descends into Alzheimer hell. Ok, so it is not particularly light reading, but it is poignant and interesting. The artwork is in three colors (blue, black and white) and highly expressive.
Clyde Fans is the story of two brothers, Abe and Simon Matchcard, and their fraught relationship over the years, as well as their father’s fan manufacturing company, Clyde Fans, and its rise and fall from the post-war years to its eventual bankruptcy a few decades later.
Seth is one of my favourite cartoonists but I always thought Clyde Fans was among his least interesting projects. I read the first book (which makes up the first third of this edition) years ago and thought it was pretty good but the fragments that cropped up here and there in his sporadically-published Palookaville comic didn’t really add much to this initial offering and became quite dull to read over time.
It took Seth over 20 years to finally complete the story of the brothers Matchcard, which I suppose is good for those who wanted to read the whole thing (and it sounds like a relief that it’s over to the creator from his afterword), but, I found re-reading over half of it and finishing off the rest of it was a bit of a chore. There’s some quality stuff here to appreciate but the overall effect just left me mostly tired and just as relieved as Seth to finish it!
Right off the bat the book is quite challenging to wade through as it begins with a 60-page monologue(!) by Abe that tells you the entire story of the fan company and gives you an idea of his family. It’s rarely interesting though the sense of nostalgia is tangible at times. The next part, set in the ‘50s, is about Simon’s disastrous first (and last) attempt at being a fan salesman. Simon is by far the more interesting character and it’s intriguing to watch a deeply introverted man try to be a people person.
It becomes quite a tense narrative as you watch Simon fail and fail and become more desperate until you don’t know what he’s going to do next. It’s not really clear though why Simon wants to be a salesman in the first place, though it shows you his mind is already starting to wobble a bit, setting up the next part of the book, where he’s become his dementia-addled elderly mother’s caregiver.
Similar to Abe, Simon’s monologues aren’t much more entertaining and, in parts, they’re far more tedious. Like when he’s describing all the individual items in his mother’s room - I get that it’s a kind of eulogy to his mother but, my god, it’s boring! - or the final part where he’s describing the dilapidated parts of Dominion City. Both brothers’ extensive ramblings underline the themes of Clyde Fans, on aging/time, memory and Canada’s post-war past, but these are ponderous discourses that rarely say anything particularly enlightening or compelling.
At nearly 500 pages, this book is far too long by half. The later sections don’t really add much to what made up the first Clyde Fans book. We see Simon become more senile, we see more of Abe behaving like the bully blow-hard womaniser he is, we learn more of their parents’ doomed marriage. There’s no real plot to speak of, nor much of a climax, and things just kind of tick over until they don’t - it’s not enough to justify such length and feels indulgent of Seth. The scenes where the two brothers interact though are pretty good, and I liked seeing Simon finally standing up for himself to Abe.
It’s interesting to see Seth’s drawing style change over the years - it ends up looking quite different from how it started, which is to be expected. The panels become smaller over time, almost Chris Ware-esque in places, and the lines become thicker and more stylized - cartoonish - compared to the thin lines and large panels of the early parts. I prefer the earlier art style but I enjoyed the art throughout the whole book, and I loved the blues accenting the black and white, giving the whole piece a moody twilit atmosphere, particularly given that most of the pages feature empty buildings and landscapes devoid of people.
The art and Simon’s failed sales trip to Dominion City were my favourite aspects of the book, though there are moments of real pathos in the regret the characters feel during their monologues, so they’re not wholly bad. But there are also huge swathes of this book that really don’t offer up much besides pretty visuals and a lot of Clyde Fans will challenge the reader’s patience as nothing stubbornly refuses to happen over and over and over.
Clyde Fans is worth reading if you’re a Seth fan but it’s definitely not much fun and for more casual readers interested in this creator I suggest checking out his more engaging books It’s a Good Life, If You Don’t Weaken and Wimbledon Green instead.
Ugh, I’m starting to think that Seth just isn’t for me. I don’t mind unlikeable characters (I often really like reading about them, actually), but Seth’s endlessly morose men in this story and their ruminations on how they wasted their lives just did nothing for me. (Okay, to say that this story is just about men ruminating on how they wasted their lives is a gross generalization -- there are some layers and other themes being explored -- but you get my drift.)
Chronicling the decline of a family-run fan business, Clyde Fans follows Abe Matchcard who took over the business from his father and Simon Matchcard, Abe’s reclusive younger brother. Abe doesn’t much care for the business, but he does okay for himself. Simon struggles and retreats to the family home, opting to become the sole caretaker for his waning mother (while also clearly mentally deteriorating).
I almost feel bad because this is far from a BAD book. Seth’s clear and bold line work is accomplished and his writing is smooth. It’s clear that Seth poured his heart and soul (and 20+ years) into this. Unfortunately, I just couldn’t bring myself to care at all about these flawed and boring men. I feel like this story has been told 1000x before and Seth fails to bring anything new to the table. (For example, Chris Ware has made his livelihood on writing about flawed, depressing schmucks, but he at least brings innovative visual storytelling -- while not to everyone’s tastes, it’s at least something different).
I had read part one back in 2019, released as a standalone volume. As for the collection as a whole: Like some others here, I thought the second part much more engaging than the first part, the former being primarily a soliloquy, largely about salesmanship, with not a whole lot in the way of drama to propel it. For me, the rest of the story was strongest when the focus was on Simon, the worst salesman in history. Love these characters and their myriad faults --cynical a-hole Abe and poor, hapless, fish-out-of-water Simon--and the detailed drawings. Interesting how Seth uses shadows, especially on faces, ranging from grey to black. Sometimes the shadows are so dark the character's head can be partly or even completely engulfed in black, as if wearing a mask or a black hood. The image below is a sample of that . Seth is a terrific artist.
"I liked to watch the real salesmen-- the old-time travelers. A lot could be learned from those guys. Those fellas had plenty of charm. They used to say that sincerity sells-- and if you can fake that, you've got it made." Ha. Gotta love that.
Pocas veces se experimenta la sensación como lector de tener entre las manos un libro que, indudablemente, se convertirá en un clásico contemporáneo de su género, un libro al que en el futuro se hará referencia como uno de los cúlmenes incuestionables de la literatura de una época. Esto es lo que se siente exactamente cuando se empieza el cómic “Ventiladores Clyde”, del dibujante canadiense Seth.
Esta obra se ha llevado a cabo a lo largo de veinte años, y es de tal magnitud (en tema, forma, extensión) que dos décadas parecen un periodo breve para parir este volumen. “Ventiladores Clyde” cuenta la historia de dos hermanos y de la empresa familiar alrededor de la cual viven toda su vida. Es una historia sobre la melancolía, sobre la añoranza, sobre las rarezas de las personas, sobre la vejez, sobre el coleccionismo y sobre las extrañas dinámicas que se establecen en todas las familias.
El dibujo es muy reconocible en el autor: muy clásico y limpio, aunque en esta obra aprecio una distribución de viñetas mucho más atrevida que en “La vida es buena si no te rindes” (Seth: Salamandra, 2017). Los personajes son perfectamente reconocibles (estéticamente y en relación a su personalidad) y eso no es algo fácil en un cómic de 500 páginas que engloba episodios que abarcan desde la infancia a la vejez de los dos hermanos protagonistas.
No suelo hablar del libro como objeto en mis reseñas, pero creo que en este caso merece la pena señalar que este volumen, como tal, es una belleza; con su caja de cartón; sus ilustraciones en blanco, negro y celeste; sus páginas a todo color de memorabilia de la época; su tacto de papel caro. De esos ejemplares que no solo quieres poseer sino que también quieres mostrar. De esos libros que tendrán siempre un lugar preferente en una biblioteca.
He disfrutado enormemente este cómic que es un homenaje al siglo XX, a la vida de provincias, a la soledad, a las madres y a los bichos raros.
This was 20 years in the making after inspiration struck peering into an actual Clyde Fans shop window in downtown Toronto. There past the dusty desks, rotary phones and old fans were the black and white photographs of two middle aged men looking back at author Seth. And here the rich imaginings of their lives.
It can feel at once like the limp whining of white privilege, the benefactors of generational wealth reminiscing about how it used to be, veering dangerously close to every bigoted uncle holding court at Thanksgiving or otherwise spewing nonsense on Facebook. Simon, after a disastrous attempt at sales in the field, is able to retreat back to the family home and bide his time collecting vintage postcards and conversing with his collection of mildly racist knick-knacks. His brother Abe opens the book, monologuing like a Southern Ontario Willy Loman for a good 70 pages.
But it is a story of the death of mid-century capitalism and locality as well. About our industrious town, and many like it, of meat-packers, tire manufacturing and parts factories. The days of raising a family, buying a home, sending the kids to school while socking money for retirement thanks to these jobs on the line have long disappeared. Now we're home to code jockeys, scrum masters and agile sprints. The small shops handed down for generations have slowly disappeared as sales move to big box stores sitting on acres of property and online retailers with next day delivery. Something has been lost as a result.
Maybe this recognition comes from my own middle age - I recognize the factories rendered here on the page and how, even laying empty when I was a child, still managed to invoke something. It's that melancholic remembering of things, the ineffable dream that can be weaponized as a call to wanting to be Great Again but just as much a nostalgia for a strong middle class and community that didn't hide behind mouse clicks and refreshed browser screens.
Cuando lees el primer capítulo, centrado en un hombre que está cerrando su empresa después de una quiebra dilatada durante años, nada hace pensar lo que vendrá después: un preciso retrato de una familia, su vida, sus aspiraciones, sus sacrificios, sus puntos de ruptura... a partir de seis momentos decisivos, ninguno de los cuales tiene un significado pleno hasta el último. Esta obra de ingeniería narrativa se apoya, sobre todo, en el trabajo de un Seth de plenitud que maneja la cadencia y los símbolos del relato con una maestría incuestionable. Los encadenamientos de viñetas en los que evoca la memoria familiar, esos viajes dilatados por el Canadá rural, los paseos por ciudades que parecen detenidas en el tiempo y alienan a los personajes o alientan su deseo de libertad... En Ventiladores Clyde no hay una puntada sin hilo y se disfruta de principio a fin siempre que estés dispuesto a dejarte arrastrar a un espacio dominado por la melancolía.
Lo que comienza siendo en apariencia una historia sencilla sobre una empresa de venta de ventiladores regentada por dos hermanos a mediados del siglo XX, acaba virando hacia una visión nostálgica sobre la evolución del tiempo, el fracaso y la memoria, a través de la mirada de sus protagonistas, dos hermanos antagónicos, que no son más que las dos caras de una misma moneda. Nos vamos a encontrar muchas divagaciones y reflexiones abstractas , existencialistas. Muchos silencios también. Imágenes que hablan por sí solas. Las ilustraciones, de estilo art deco, son espectaculares. A veces aburre, a veces desconcierta, otras resulta fascinante. En conjunto, una obra a la que merece la pena acercarse.
I have followed this family drama about two elderly brothers ("dull and grey") since it began twenty-three years ago in Palooka-ville #10, and it is nice to find it all finally collected under one cover. It's more a tone piece than a story, with the five parts skipping around the decades between the 1950s and 1990s.
The first chunk consists of the older brother wandering around a building in 1997 talking to himself about the history of his family's shuttered business and his experience in sales. Low-key, but engaging in its way.
The second part jumps back to 1957 and has the introverted younger brother wandering around Dominion, Canada (Seth's fictional city for which he spent a decade building a real life scale model), failing at becoming a traveling salesman. It's a pretty interesting study of a man slowly falling apart.
Alas, the book starts falling apart for me in the third section as we are thrust into a week of 1966 to experience the decline in mental health of the younger brother and their mother. Dream sequences, delusions and dementia dominate. The older brother really starts leaning into being the cold asshole he is totally revealed to be in the next sequence set in 1975.
The final part returns to 1957 to crawl deep inside the younger brother's head following his failure at sales. It's pretty much unreadable for me, and almost leaves me wondering why I bothered with the book, but really it's mostly about the art. I just really like Seth's style.
Simon and Abe Matchcard are brothers, second generation Canadian business owners struggling to save the family business of selling oscillating fans in a world switching to air-conditioning, written and illustrated by Seth, a renowned cartoonist. The story, told in graphic form, is a classic one, exploring the decline of small scale businesses and family life, in this case, the disappearance of the father/founder and its profound and lasting impact. The book moves back and forth between three periods: 1957, 1975 and 1997, starting with Simon's disastrous first sales trip, leading to his reluctance to leave the house and care for their aging mother. The book's focus on success and failure degenerates into tedium: Simon's complete withdrawal from society, living upstairs from the shuttered store, their mother's decline into dementia, Abe dealing with his own recriminations of past transgressions, and Simon's wandering in a rural wilderness.
El tiempo que pasa, la nostalgia, personajes varados en sí mismos, la cruda realidad. Unas imágenes y una manera de narrar una historia más que original. Esto es Seth. O te gusta o no te gusta, pero el tío impresiona y siempre te hace sentir algo. Que de eso es de lo que se trata. ¿O no?
Impresionante novela gráfica sobre el paso del tiempo y la soledad y la familia y la orfandad. Hace falta paciencia, pero está dibujada con delicadeza y tiene un ritmo y una estructura milimétrica. Le llevó 20 años de trabajo al autor. ¡20 años!
La parte gráfica es impresionante, pero no he logrado conectar con la historia más que fugazmente, a ráfagas. Cuando tú y un cómic no estáis en la misma longitud de onda poco se puede hacer.
[Nota: Esta reseña contiene detalles que para determinadas personas pueden ser considerados spoilers.]
Pocas escenas me han roto tanto el corazón como cuando Simon encuentra su "lugar mágico" al final del segundo acto, aquella última viñeta en la agacha la cabeza. En ese momento de la lectura resulta desgarrador ver al menor de los hermanos Matchcard allí, feliz por haber encontrado su versión de algo que ha captado de oídas (siempre escuchando las conversaciones de los demás), por el contraste tan patético entre la idílica visión robada y esa colina muerta coronada por tres árboles esqueléticos. El simbolismo que encierra el lugar es más que evidente: tres figuras solitarias en mitad de un paisaje desolado, cediendo a las embestidas del tiempo, una junto a otra, porque solo se tienen a ellas mismas. Allí ambos hermanos llegarán a esta misma revelación, aunque sea por caminos tan, tan diferentes. Esta imagen, en definitiva, contiene y resume el misterio vital que Seth ha querido volcar en un trabajo colosal que le llevó veinte años terminar.
En lo técnico y en lo estructural, Ventiladres Clyde es sencillamente perfecta. La ortodoxia de los planos, de los encuadres, una labor de continuidad minuciosamente ejecutada que hace que la lectura vaya siempre adelante y atrás, estableciendo nuevas asociaciones, rescatando imágenes aquí y allá, construyendo a fuerza de ir y volver. Tuve la buena fortuna de dejar pasar unos días antes de leer la última parte, terminada por Seth tanto tiempo después, porque me ayudó a tomar distancia y a verlo como lo que debería ser: el epílogo a una historia que, si bien creo que en esencia ya estaba cerrada, necesitaba ser moldeada para alcanzar esa perfección formal. Y lo consigue, a juzgar por las emociones que ha removido en el pecho de este agradecido lector.
A deeply-felt work about human memories, making sense of the past and the anguish of passing years and lost hopes, a tribute to one once-commercially successful and ambitious little world that is no more.
Seth (real name Gregory Gallant) is a Canadian cartoonist whose artistic style is said to remind of The New Yorker cartoons of the 1930s-40s. Inspired by a real business that was once in operation in Toronto, his graphic novel Clyde Fans follows a non-linear plot and two very different brothers (extraverted Abe and introverted Simon), whose father left them his business selling electric fans. The pair responds differently to the changing business environment, social demands and times and, in this story, we trace their lives through the life of a company that came to define them and their family, following them through their hopes and dreams, initial successes, bankruptcies, family tragedies and growing desperation fuelled by years of buried pride and reluctance to welcome the future. This reflective picture novel takes a very close look at nostalgia and asks whether there is something precious being lost every time we decide to walk with the changing times, or ahead of them. From the wisdom of the old age to “commercial” loneliness and misunderstandings faced in one’s youth, the novel asks – what is “success”, and what is “failure” in life? What is the nature of time and what it means to finally come to grips with its passage? How time changes us, or does not?
The book starts in 1997, but then events also move to 1957, 1966 and to 1975. In 1997, we follow one aging ex-salesman who goes through his daily routine and, while he does so, he talks to us about his past, his career and what it takes to succeed in a highly pressurised environment of sales and deal closures, that kind of an environment where true sincerity, friendship and human warmth are hard to come by. As he talks, we begin to understand that he, Abe Matchcard, inherited his business from his father, who, in turn, opened his shop “Clyde Fans” in 1937. Much “sales” wisdom is imparted to us, while we get to understand the loneliness of the profession and the power of habit: “A good sale is not unlike a military manoeuvre. Researched, studied, yet still spontaneous” [Seth, 2019: 92]; “It’s funny how long a man can simply keep doing what he’s always done – no matter how futile” [Seth, 2019: 63]; “The life of a salesman is a life of waiting between pitches” [Seth, 2019: 82]; and “you’ll get nothing in life if you won’t ask for it”[Seth, 2019: 91]. We learn that persistence counts in business and sales, but it so happens that it was failure to adapt that signalled Clyde Fans’ downfall. When air-conditioning started to appear, Clyde Fans missed the opportunity to stock this new technology too.
There is something of the Richard Yates-vibe to this novel, maybe because Seth wanted to portray the world of his parents and to capture some of the consequences of the Age of Anxiety world. One theme here could be the new generation’s feelings of being incapable (or fearful) of keeping up with their parents’ zeal for commerce and hard-work ethic when so much had changed in the world and it was not people’s decency, character or hard-work that began to matter or valued in the world of business anymore, but how fast can one talk, how fast can one sell, and whether future employees have the appearance of being hard-working, productive and respectable people.
The novel’s blue/dark-green images are effective in conveying a range of emotions, ideas and thoughts of the characters. How do we process memories? Why do we make certain decision in life (or, maybe, don’t make them?), and what makes “us” in the business world? Seth’s work does get quite metaphysical by the end.
☢ Clyde Fans means to say that behind every small business there are, or once were, real people with their real stories of hope, dreams of prosperity, and their share of successes and failures. Clyde Fans is a profound work full of philosophical questions about life and the meaning we attach to our daily jobs.
Trabajo apoteósico. Edición cuidadísima, impresiona a lo que se ha llegado en finalización editorial en España. Maravilloso. Veinte años le ha llevado a Seth terminar la historia. Es muy intimista, muy particular, te enseña lecciones de la vida que a veces no son tan claras de aprender. Te enseña a detenerte y respirar. Muy recomendable. Los del trío de Toronto nunca decepcionan.
Gracias a una estupenda reseña que encontré en C de Cyberdark, de Santiago L. Moreno, me acerqué a este libro con nuevo ánimo (antes ya había leído alguna otra reseña que no me dejaba del todo convencido) y sin muchas dudas. Y la verdad, los elogios no son para menos.
Cuenta la historia familiar de dos hermanos en torno al declive de su propio negocio. Así, a priori, esto no resulta muy tentador. Y menos con el poco sugerente título de “Ventiladores Clyde”. Y, sin embargo, bajo estos hechos aparentemente anodinos, se esconde un análisis de la soledad y la dificultad de llegar al otro, de la realidad y del tiempo, de la transformación y la decadencia, entre otras muchas cuestiones. Todo es abordado con una profundidad que despeja cualquier duda –si es que aún existe para alguien– sobre los límites del cómic. Es una obra que, por su complejidad, por su forma y fondo, por su ambición, alcanza el terreno de la novela total. Lo quiere abarcar todo; y, en su mundo, en el de estos dos hermanos, en el del negocio “Ventiladores Clyde", en el de sus cuatrocientas y pico páginas, lo consigue.
5+ out of 5 What a beautiful slab of melancholy. First there is the object itself, meticulously designed and further rewarding with each closer gaze - just like the panels of the comic itself. Then, there is the story. 20 years in the making, a not-so-epic about two brothers, about the end of industry, about dreams deferred and never had, about what gets lost when someone leaves and the absences that appear when they stay. Plus, a Woolfian final chapter that absolutely astounds and astonishes, truly taking one’s breath away. A stupendous achievement.
Lo que empieza siendo una extraordinaria crónica del mundo de la venta acaba convirtiéndose en un retrato de familia que sirve de vehículo a un estudio muy personal sobre la memoria, el paso del tiempo y cómo ambos nos transforman. A mí la lectura de esta obra monumental me remite a Orson Welles, tanto en el aspecto gráfico como en el asunto. Si se me pregunta por la impresión que saco de ella, la primera palabra que me viene a la cabeza es "Rosebud". Una obra maestra del noveno arte. Reseña más extensa en C: https://www.ccyberdark.net/8208/venti...
I cannot accurately articulate the tremendous amount of affection I have for this work. And that Seth actually finished it. I’m very grateful for that.
Estéticamente precioso. Por desgracia, un cómic de casi 500 páginas sobre el declive de una tienda de ventiladores ha resultado ser tan aburrido como efectivamente parecía antes de empezar a leer.
"Qué poder tienen los nombres. Piénsalo. Los de los lugares que has visitado y los de las personas que has conocido. Las calles en que viviste, las cosas que atesoraste o los amores que perdiste. Sus nombres tienen importancia. Di en alto el nombre de la ciudad en la que naciste, o en la que te criaste… lo notarás. Ahora, di el de una persona a la que ansiaras y que nunca consiguieras ¿Sientes la punzada de su peso? No son meras palabras. No, son más bien llaves: llaves que de algún modo abren puertas que te devuelven a algún momento o lugar. En cierta manera, abren el contenedor de emociones de nuestro pecho."
Escrita e ilustrada por Seth, pseudónimo del canadiense Gregory Gallant, Ventiladores Clyde (2000) es una novela en imágenes que lleva la narrativa del cómic a un extremo totalmente innovador y nostálgico. Finalizada luego de veinte años de trabajo, esta obra presenta al paso del tiempo como un elemento antagónico de la mente humana y, también, a la nostalgia como una retrospección dolorosa en la soledad del pensamiento.
Abe y Simon, herederos de una fábrica de ventiladores en decadencia, son los protagonistas principales de esta novela. Por un lado, Abe es un hombre de negocios que vive sólo para la empresa. Su obstinada personalidad le impide ver la realidad del presente mientras que su mente divaga por las sombras del pasado, precisamente por los recuerdos de su padre. Con altibajos constantes, Abe intenta no renunciar al único legado que tiene en vida, se aferra a la materialidad con vehemencia por miedo a perder el último recuerdo de su padre. Simon, por otra parte, es introvertido y taciturno. El vaivén constante de sus pensamientos le impide llevar a cabo sus actividades con normalidad: se distrae fácilmente, no presta suficiente atención a los demás y olvida con frecuencia sus actividades. Contrariamente a Abe, Simon piensa más en su madre, pero estos pensamientos repercuten de manera oscura en su presente. A medida que la lectura avanza, las diferencias entre ambos personajes no hacen más que aumentar y exteriorizar una relación erosionada por los problemas familiares: un padre ausente en la adolescencia y una madre que padece Alzheimer. La invención del aire acondicionado y las pocas ventas en la compañía son los factores que terminan hundiendo la fábrica y el vínculo exangüe entre Abe y Simon, dos personajes totalmente distintos, pero iguales en el sufrimiento.
Mediante un trazo grueso y una técnica bitonal de negros y azules, Seth ilustra la historia de estos hermanos con una maestría académica en la narración visual: las imágenes están acompañadas por monólogos melancólicos en recuadros con letras blancas, las sombras exhiben la introspección pura de los personajes, y el uso de anacronías a lo largo de las páginas representa el desorden caótico del pensamiento. Cada viñeta cumple una función específica donde se simboliza el fluir de la conciencia a través de dibujos abstractos y objetos cotidianos cargados de abundantes descripciones. La narración, por momentos, está atravesada por el plano onírico y requiere una participación totalmente activa del lector. Paradójicamente, el propio autor la define como “aburrida, deprimente y lenta.” En Ventiladores Clyde, las imágenes afloran desde los pensamientos más íntimos. Seth retrata a sus personajes con una tristeza desgarradora que, según sus propias declaraciones, nace de su propio pasado:
"Temo perder la memoria y la identidad, como todo el mundo. En el libro es más directo porque en esa época le estaba pasando a mi madre. Era testigo de cómo sus recuerdos desaparecían y a la vez desaparecía nuestra vida en común."
La narrativa visual pone en escena al pasado mediante ilustraciones de objetos ordinarios, edificios, casas y lugares totalmente abandonados, ilustraciones que construyen el sentido abstracto de la vida en un plano cotidiano, donde no podemos anclarnos, nos desgastamos y nos hacemos cada vez más pequeños. En definitiva, Seth define el problema de la nostalgia: su presencia activa en los objetos, se adhiere a las fotos, a las paredes de una casa, a los sonidos e, incluso, a las personas. La nostalgia es un silencio estampado en una imagen, una oquedad construida en el espacio, una disonancia monocorde y una ausencia muy presente. Es en esa dualidad semiamarga donde la narración de Ventiladores Clyde cobra sentido: en las reminiscencias de los recuerdos que nos hicieron felices, y en el dolor que provoca el ejercicio de recordar.
Lo llamativo de Seth es que el tiempo parece haberse anclado en su persona: con un look particular, un retrato de los años cuarenta, este dibujante es una personificación inequívoca de sus ilustraciones. Obsesionado con el paso del tiempo y los recuerdos, el autor muestra la postura del ser humano y su reacción frente al avance del tiempo. De esta manera, Ventiladores Clyde refleja la idea de ralentizar el paso de tiempo, evocar los momentos felices y convertirlos en una fotografía mental resistente al olvido. Totalmente recomendado.
I highly recommend this book. It ostensibly examines -- across time -- the business life, and family life, of two brothers, their mother, absent father, and the omnipresent "Clyde Fans, Ltd" which is the oscillating fan business created by the father and dumped on his sons.
What is progress? What is failure? What is the price we pay for progress? What toll, if any, does failure exact?
I agree with the following excerpt from a review of this book from The Guardian (UK): "Utterly amazing . . . a history of mid-century capitalism disguised as the story of two elderly brothers."
Another reviewer for The Guardian (UK) wrote further in agreement, "A masterly account of the passing of time . . . There's plenty of quiet desperation, but also a serene beauty in carefully drawn shopfronts, and a warmth to Seth's slow waltz through fading lives."
Does a focus on the past prevent unbridled joy in the present? Is such joy even achievable? And, for that matter, how can one possibly discern what transpired in the past, given that time has interceded and one's memory of past events is less real today, due to the distortion caused by the passage of time (the distorted focus today, on the events of the past, disproportionately emphasizes the "positive events" and downplays the "negative" ones; or, it could be the other way around).
The remembered past seen through rose colored glasses cannot be allowed to overtake the actual real, but less than ideal, moments of the present. We only have now.
This fantastic book explores all these questions to a satisfying conclusion with masterful drawings and thought-provoking text. We're invited on a journey along the arch of the lives of two brothers -- men who inherited an oscillating fan business -- from a bygone era.
Me ha encantando tanto la parte gráfica como la historia narrada, aunque esta me ha costado algo más de entender por tanto simbolismo (y sigo pensando que hay muchas cosas que me he perdido). Es casi una visión cinematográfica la que ofrece Seth en este álbum, donde acompañamos a los hermanos protagonistas en el desarrollo de sus vidas, conociendo sus miedos, sus traumas, sus miserias y tristezas. El uso de solo tres colores, la falta de texto en páginas enteras, los paseos por interiores y exteriores…, todo da una sensación de introspección y, a ratos, de relato onírico que contrasta con las escenas contadas en presente, llenas de amargura y derrota.
Clyde Fans starts out slow – well, in fact, the whole thing is pretty slow, but the pace at the beginning is positively glacial. I can't help but suspect that author-artist Gregory "Seth" Gallant may have deliberately crafted this comic to make it as unappealing as possible to the average comic fan. I mean, even avid readers of "literary" comics are likely to be at least a little perturbed at the prospect of 60-odd pages of rambling geriatric monologue about the art of sales. This certainly isn't light reading, and if you want your comics to be fun you should look elsewhere, but if you have the patience and perseverance for it, Clyde Fans is a deep, powerful and very rewarding comic.
It's essentially a character study of two dysfunctional, frankly pathetic brothers: one struggling with undiagnosed mental illness, the other just kind of a jerk. Flitting back and forth in time, the narrative addresses the whole of their lives, which span much of the twentieth century, though there is particular focus on an important incident in 1957. It's a thematically rich work, tackling some of the big questions about life, and doing so from an unusual angle. Alongside more general considerations of what constitutes a meaningful existence, the comic examines the passage of time, the extent to which that's coterminous with decay, and the way we as humans relate to our pasts and presents. It's fairly obtuse in the way it addresses these issues, and it certainly doesn't provide any ready answers, but it's thought-provoking stuff.
Importantly, this comic looks absolutely fantastic throughout. Seth’s highly stylized art is replete with bold, straight lines, rich backgrounds and gorgeously realized architecture, all with a muted black-white-and-blue colour scheme that perfectly captures the story’s sense of melancholic nostalgia. This ensures that even at its more sluggish moments, Clyde Fans is an absolute joy to read. Moreover, Seth is evidently a master of the comic craft, using a variety of panel arrangements to brilliant effect, and perfectly balancing text-heavy panels with wordless ones.
I can totally understand why someone might not enjoy this comic – it’s essentially just 500 pages of meandering melancholy – but I really think it’s something of a quiet masterpiece.
I've read this three times now, across much of the twenty years of ifs serialization, again in one sustained read of the serialized version, and now in this collected and revised edition. The dense and deliberate narrative here did not lend itself well to being read across the twenty years of its serialization (a fact Seth acknowledges), but as a single book, it is brilliant. Not for those looking for sunny and optimistic work, this contemplative study of two brothers, Abe and Simon Matchcard, is in many respects pessimistic (both brothers are arguably failures who end up isolated, withdrawn from the world and even each other; and the inevitable ravages of age are treated here with an unblinking frankness) and profoundly ironic (the non-chronological narrative structure underscores the irony with deliberate tension). Yet surprisingly, and almost counter-intuitively, it is--in sections, at least--not merely haunting but almost transcendent. That the transcendence is ironized by the aftermath of those moments (notably in the ways in which Simon's real withdrawal from life does not measure up to what he imagines such a withdrawal might mean) does not make it any less splendid. The protracted sequence in which Simon imagines himself transformed into a sort of bird-human hybrid and takes flight is a particularly stunning and beautiful sequence, delicately capturing the impossibility of hope and escape from mundane reality. And Seth's art is always a joy to behold--pages are often masterworks of design, while others are masterworks of minimalism (some feature only black space and perhaps a few words, or a single image). Those who want action and plot in their comics will probably not be enamored of this book, but for those open to its leisurely pace and its precision and attention to detail (one page consists only of different fan designs; another sequence itemizes the objects left behind by Abe and Simon's mother when she is consigned to an assisted living facility), its interest not in plot but in the subtle turns of the minds of its protagonists, will find much to reward attention here. Highly recommended.