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Perramus - intégrale
Il a fallu huit ans à Alberto Breccia et Juan Sasturain pour réaliser Perramus. Dans cette grande fresque de plus de 460 pages, les auteurs ont transposé toute l'histoire (avec un grand H), les symboles et les mythes de l'Amérique Latine : la dictature militaire et ses disparitions (Breccia rend hommage à son scénariste Hector OEsterheld, disparu durant cette période), le tango avec Carlos Gardel, la passion du football, l'influence des Etats-Unis avec Henry Kissinger et Frank Sinatra et, bien sûr, la littérature, avec des versions fantasmées de Jorge Luis Borges et Gabriel Garcia Marquez. En 1982, la dictature militaire est au pouvoir en Argentine. C'est dans ce contexte particulièrement difficile que Perramus voit le jour. Sur les deux premiers livres sur les quatre qui composent cette oeuvre, le récit prend pour toile de fond cauchemardesque un état totalitaire fantasmagorique. Perramus est un homme qui a laissé mourir ses compagnons de révolte pour fuir et qui, incapable de faire face à cette réalité, s'abandonne à l'oubli. Devenu l'homme sans mémoire, il va parcourir le monde en quête d'identité et de rédemption avec pour compagnons de fortune Canelones, l'Ennemi et Jorge Luis Borges. Par sa genèse, son contexte politique, le talent de ses créateurs, le style toujours novateur d'Alberto Breccia, Perramus est un roman graphique incontournable.
480 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1985
26 people are currently reading
463 people want to read
About the author
Alberto Breccia
99 books77 followersBorn in Montevideo, Uruguay, Breccia moved with his parents to Buenos Aires, Argentina when he was three years old. After leaving school, Breccia worked in a tripe packing plant and in 1938 he got a job for the magazine El Resero, where he wrote articles and drew the covers.
He began to work professionally in 1939, when he joined the publishing house Manuel Láinez. He worked on magazines such as Tit-Bits, Rataplán and El Gorrión where he created comic strips such as Mariquita Terremoto, Kid Río Grande, El Vengador (based on a popular novel), and other adaptations.
During the 1950s he became an "honorary" member of the "Group of Venice" that consisted of expatriate Italian artists such as Hugo Pratt, Ido Pavone, Horacio Lalia, Faustinelli and Ongaro. Other honorary members were Francisco Solano López, Carlo Cruz and Arturo Perez del Castillo. With Hugo Pratt, he started the Pan-American School of Art in Buenos Aires. In 1957 he joined publisher Editorial Frontera, under the direction of Héctor Germán Oesterheld, where he created several Ernie Pike stories. In 1958 Breccia's series Sherlock Time ran in the comic magazine Hora Cero Extra, with scripts by Oesterheld.
Breccia and Oesterheld collaborated to produce one of the most important comic strips in history, Mort Cinder, in 1962. The face of the immortal Cinder is modeled after Breccia's assistant, Horacio Lalia, and the appearance of his companion, the antique dealer Ezra Winston, is actually Breccia's own. Cinder and Winston's strip began on July 26, 1962, in issue Nº 714 of Misterix magazine, and ran until 1964 .
In 1968 Breccia was joined by his son, Enrique, in a project to draw the comic biography of Che, the life of Che Guevara, again with a script provided by Oesterheld. This comic book is considered the chief cause behind Oesterheld's disappearance.
In 1969 Oesterheld rewrote the script of El Eternauta, for the Argentinian magazine Gente. Breccia drew the story with a decidedly experimental style, resorting to diverse techniques. The resulting work was anything but conventional and moving away from the commercial. Breccia refused to modify its style, which added to the tone of the script, and was much different from Francisco Solano López original.
During the seventies, Breccia makes major graphic innovations in black and white and color with series like Un tal Daneri and Chi ha paura delle fiabe?, written by Carlos Trillo. On the last one, a satire based on Brothers Grimm's tales, he plays with texture, mixing collage, acrylic and watercolor.
Other stories include: Cthulhu Mythos, Buscavidas (text by Carlos Trillo), a Historia grafica del Chile and Perramus, inspired by the work of the poet Juan Sasturain a pamphlet against the dictatorship in Argentina. Breccia died in Buenos Aires in 1993.
He began to work professionally in 1939, when he joined the publishing house Manuel Láinez. He worked on magazines such as Tit-Bits, Rataplán and El Gorrión where he created comic strips such as Mariquita Terremoto, Kid Río Grande, El Vengador (based on a popular novel), and other adaptations.
During the 1950s he became an "honorary" member of the "Group of Venice" that consisted of expatriate Italian artists such as Hugo Pratt, Ido Pavone, Horacio Lalia, Faustinelli and Ongaro. Other honorary members were Francisco Solano López, Carlo Cruz and Arturo Perez del Castillo. With Hugo Pratt, he started the Pan-American School of Art in Buenos Aires. In 1957 he joined publisher Editorial Frontera, under the direction of Héctor Germán Oesterheld, where he created several Ernie Pike stories. In 1958 Breccia's series Sherlock Time ran in the comic magazine Hora Cero Extra, with scripts by Oesterheld.
Breccia and Oesterheld collaborated to produce one of the most important comic strips in history, Mort Cinder, in 1962. The face of the immortal Cinder is modeled after Breccia's assistant, Horacio Lalia, and the appearance of his companion, the antique dealer Ezra Winston, is actually Breccia's own. Cinder and Winston's strip began on July 26, 1962, in issue Nº 714 of Misterix magazine, and ran until 1964 .
In 1968 Breccia was joined by his son, Enrique, in a project to draw the comic biography of Che, the life of Che Guevara, again with a script provided by Oesterheld. This comic book is considered the chief cause behind Oesterheld's disappearance.
In 1969 Oesterheld rewrote the script of El Eternauta, for the Argentinian magazine Gente. Breccia drew the story with a decidedly experimental style, resorting to diverse techniques. The resulting work was anything but conventional and moving away from the commercial. Breccia refused to modify its style, which added to the tone of the script, and was much different from Francisco Solano López original.
During the seventies, Breccia makes major graphic innovations in black and white and color with series like Un tal Daneri and Chi ha paura delle fiabe?, written by Carlos Trillo. On the last one, a satire based on Brothers Grimm's tales, he plays with texture, mixing collage, acrylic and watercolor.
Other stories include: Cthulhu Mythos, Buscavidas (text by Carlos Trillo), a Historia grafica del Chile and Perramus, inspired by the work of the poet Juan Sasturain a pamphlet against the dictatorship in Argentina. Breccia died in Buenos Aires in 1993.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 38 reviews
February 20, 2021
Perramus: The City and Oblivion collects the four Perramus graphic novels but Alberto Breccia and Juan Sasturain.
After reading Mort Cinder and The Eternaut, I'm all in on whatever Fantagraphics wants to reprint featuring Alberto Breccia's art so this one was an obvious choice.
Perramus, the title character, is a man who has forgotten his name and past, taking his name from a label on his raincoat. Along with his friend Canaloes and The Enemy, he explores an Argentina clutched in the iron fist of a dictator and the skull faced Marshals.
The stories are way more complicated than that but it's hard to work Borges, a quest involving collecting the missing teeth of a singer, an island whose economy is based on bird shit and a dick measuring contest judged by Frank Sintra into a coherent teaser.
Alberto Breccia's art is at its most experimental yet, a blend of charcoal, ink washes, collages, ink spatters, and all kinds of other techniques. His figures are grotesque caricatures wandering a dreamlike world with flashes of realism. There are some panels that look like photo collages and others where I'm sure he simply drew something with a photo reference.
The stories are bizarre and nightmarish, as befits the art. I lost track of the plot on numerous occasions and just enjoyed the art until I found the trail again. Lots of crazy things happen. I have to think a lot of Vertigo writers were inspired in part by the craziness of Perramus.
With phantasmagorical art and the bizarre plot, I can say I recognize that Perramus is a great work but I'm not exactly sure I actually enjoyed it. Four out of five teeth.
After reading Mort Cinder and The Eternaut, I'm all in on whatever Fantagraphics wants to reprint featuring Alberto Breccia's art so this one was an obvious choice.
Perramus, the title character, is a man who has forgotten his name and past, taking his name from a label on his raincoat. Along with his friend Canaloes and The Enemy, he explores an Argentina clutched in the iron fist of a dictator and the skull faced Marshals.
The stories are way more complicated than that but it's hard to work Borges, a quest involving collecting the missing teeth of a singer, an island whose economy is based on bird shit and a dick measuring contest judged by Frank Sintra into a coherent teaser.
Alberto Breccia's art is at its most experimental yet, a blend of charcoal, ink washes, collages, ink spatters, and all kinds of other techniques. His figures are grotesque caricatures wandering a dreamlike world with flashes of realism. There are some panels that look like photo collages and others where I'm sure he simply drew something with a photo reference.
The stories are bizarre and nightmarish, as befits the art. I lost track of the plot on numerous occasions and just enjoyed the art until I found the trail again. Lots of crazy things happen. I have to think a lot of Vertigo writers were inspired in part by the craziness of Perramus.
With phantasmagorical art and the bizarre plot, I can say I recognize that Perramus is a great work but I'm not exactly sure I actually enjoyed it. Four out of five teeth.
January 15, 2021
As Argentina and the rest of Latin America begin to wake from their nightmarish era of dictators and disappearances, a group of four leftist survivors become a sort of Mission Impossible squad who travel the world looking for people and things that might put the nightmares to rest. Also, Jorge Luis Borges serves as their handler, with appearances by a handful of other Latin American notables.
It reads something like a noir-infused, post-dictatorial version of Thomas Pynchon’s The Crying of Lot 49. It owes much to detective fiction, postmodernism, Boom-era writers, and Cold War spy fiction. The Expressionist black-and-white watercolor visuals are wonderfully chaotic, emotional, frenetic, and claustrophobic.
My only substantial complaint is that there are almost no female characters across its nearly 500 pages. For a book about the aftermath of disappearances and dictatorships, it seems incredibly odd not to address how much of the burden of mourning the murdered and disappeared was, and is, taken on by women.
It reads something like a noir-infused, post-dictatorial version of Thomas Pynchon’s The Crying of Lot 49. It owes much to detective fiction, postmodernism, Boom-era writers, and Cold War spy fiction. The Expressionist black-and-white watercolor visuals are wonderfully chaotic, emotional, frenetic, and claustrophobic.
My only substantial complaint is that there are almost no female characters across its nearly 500 pages. For a book about the aftermath of disappearances and dictatorships, it seems incredibly odd not to address how much of the burden of mourning the murdered and disappeared was, and is, taken on by women.
July 18, 2023
Могу комотно да кажем да је као целина ово један од најбољих стрипова које сам икад прочитао. Прелепо написан и прелепо нацртан (иако ми је дража ранија Брећина стилизација). Пуно је алегорија и метафора које није лако разумети због снажне политичке и историјске тематике везане за Аргентину, али је сасвим могуће у трку их претворити у универзалне и применити на овдашње стање у друштву, политици и на моралном пољу.
December 17, 2023
An unnamed revolutionary wakes to a raid that leads to his comrades getting brutally executed in their own beds. He takes refuge in a nearby brothel, where the Madame presents him with three options - María, Rosa or Margarita - who represent pleasure, luck and oblivion, respectively. Wracked with the guilt of having escaped where his friends could not, the revolutionary chooses oblivion. He awakes the following day in Margarita's bed as an amnesiac, unaware of his recent past but retaining cultural knowledge that he has amassed over his lifelong education. He boards a ship wearing the clothes of a Swedish sailor, and takes on the name "Perramus" which is the logo emblazoned on the borrowed coat. The pockets of his coat also contains an antique guide to the city and a book that speculates about dreams and the passage of time. Perramus' fractured memory lends towards the surrealist, dream logic adventure that begins with his first adventure in "The Pilot of Oblivion". His journey on the ship introduces him to Canelones, a biracial Uruguayan blue-collar laborer, who serves to ground Perramus' existential leanings. The second ally to Perramus is an aviator named Ezekiel Gorriti, also known as "The Enemy", who is a gifted individual with respect to technology and has a mythic past involving resistance towards the crony capitalists and authoritarian leaders.
The trio form a group that carries out clandestine missions around Santa María, a phantasmal city ruled by the ruthless Marshals. "The Soul of the City" puts the regime of Santa María in the spotlight with a secondary protagonist, Borges, who initiates the fight against the oppressors. Perramus' own journey does have a sense of thematic completion here, where his previous guilt is absolved by his resolve to fight the fascists. But the mission continues so long as the Marshals hold power, and the team continues their struggles through "The Island of Guano" and "Tooth for Tooth".
Though the central narrative is a somewhat trivial portrayal of anti-fascist resistance, Juan Sasturain's script is layered in dream logic, absurdism and cryptic metaphors that elevate Perramus into a masterclass of political storytelling. The tinges of magical realism provide the setting of Santa María an ethereal feel, but none of this is possible without Alberto Breccia's enigmatic and expressionistic cartooning. Breccia goes all out here, with a copious use of inks, acrylics, graphite, collaging, scraping, staining, brushwork, etc. to cultivate page after page of greyscale surrealism that could easily fill up art galleries. The level of abstraction is quite high though, making some of the panels difficult to decipher but endlessly captivating. Though some of the designs seem entirely loose, it's clear that Breccia is operating with elevated precision here and every seemingly haphazard brushstroke or inkwash is completely controlled. The story and characters on its own aren't quite all that refined, but Sasturain's ambitious narrative style and Breccia's otherwordly cartooning is sufficient for me to say that this is one of the all time great comics ever made.
The trio form a group that carries out clandestine missions around Santa María, a phantasmal city ruled by the ruthless Marshals. "The Soul of the City" puts the regime of Santa María in the spotlight with a secondary protagonist, Borges, who initiates the fight against the oppressors. Perramus' own journey does have a sense of thematic completion here, where his previous guilt is absolved by his resolve to fight the fascists. But the mission continues so long as the Marshals hold power, and the team continues their struggles through "The Island of Guano" and "Tooth for Tooth".
Though the central narrative is a somewhat trivial portrayal of anti-fascist resistance, Juan Sasturain's script is layered in dream logic, absurdism and cryptic metaphors that elevate Perramus into a masterclass of political storytelling. The tinges of magical realism provide the setting of Santa María an ethereal feel, but none of this is possible without Alberto Breccia's enigmatic and expressionistic cartooning. Breccia goes all out here, with a copious use of inks, acrylics, graphite, collaging, scraping, staining, brushwork, etc. to cultivate page after page of greyscale surrealism that could easily fill up art galleries. The level of abstraction is quite high though, making some of the panels difficult to decipher but endlessly captivating. Though some of the designs seem entirely loose, it's clear that Breccia is operating with elevated precision here and every seemingly haphazard brushstroke or inkwash is completely controlled. The story and characters on its own aren't quite all that refined, but Sasturain's ambitious narrative style and Breccia's otherwordly cartooning is sufficient for me to say that this is one of the all time great comics ever made.
December 1, 2021
Alberto Breccia’s artwork in Perramus is unlike anything I’ve seen in a comic before. I was genuinely blown away from the moment I looked at its first page. It employs murky, greyscale expressionism, with extensive use of ink washes, collage, and who-knows-what other unusual techniques. It’s full of strange textures, and of figures who merge into backgrounds. It mixes realism and cartooning in a hallucinatory, dreamlike way. The whole thing is somehow intoxicating, engrossing… even overwhelming.
The story matches the visual tone: cerebral, enigmatic, indirect, and often surreal. It’s a comic that truly deserves the label “literary”, being rich in symbolism and philosophizing, not to mention frequent references to Latin American novels, poetry and history. The work consists of four “books”, and while they’re quite consistent visually, each one has its own story, and they all differ markedly in terms of subject matter and storytelling approach.
The first book, “The Pilot of Oblivion”, is the most surrealistic: its feverish, nightmarish sequence of events plays out with almost no explanation. I can’t say I understand all of what it’s about, but I love every page of it.
The second book, “The Soul of the City”, maintains a certain dream logic, but has a rather more straightforward plot: its protagonists have a clearly defined quest, though its purpose is more symbolic than rational. I think this book could just about be classified as magical realism.
The third book, “The Island of Guano”, is the most dramatic and action-packed, but also perhaps the hardest to follow. Its internal logic seems more consistent than that of the previous two – it doesn’t feel as dreamlike – but it’s still full of weirdness. I suppose I’d label it absurdism. To a much greater extent than the rest of Perramus, this is a story of politicking and revolution, and it feels as though all of its outlandish characters and happenings must be allegorical for something in the real world, but I guess I lack either the intelligence or the background knowledge necessary to make sense of most of it – and unlike in the rest of the comic, in the third book this is a little frustrating at times.
Perramus’s final book, “Tooth for Tooth”, is its most conventional. It has a clear quest, similar in vein to that of the second book, but here the dream logic and magical elements are absent. More than the others, this book relies on real-world historical and cultural references. It may feel less heady and profound than the first three books, but it’s no less enjoyable. It’s something of a bizarre take on a globetrotting adventure story, and it’s a lot of fun.
I’ve written this whole review so far without addressing what Perramus is actually about, and that’s because it’s sometimes quite hard to parse. What’s clear is that it’s about Latin American (and particularly Argentinian) dictatorship. It critiques authoritarian regimes and celebrates resistance, but it focuses more on spiritual or cultural resistance than straight-up political opposition or armed revolution. It’s also to a significant degree a story about stories – about how stories are made and told. I’m confident that there’s a whole lot more going on – for example relating to history, identity, and the societal role of intellectuals and the arts – but I’ll need at least a second read-through before I can put that into words.
If you need a conventional, straightforward narrative in your comics in order to enjoy them, you should look elsewhere. Likewise, there’s little here for readers seeking believable, three-dimensional characters and engaging interpersonal drama. Fans of clean cartooning or artistic realism won’t find much to enjoy either. However, for those who enjoy enigmatic, open-ended stories rich in symbolism – and particularly those with a taste for experimental art – Perramus is a must-read.
The story matches the visual tone: cerebral, enigmatic, indirect, and often surreal. It’s a comic that truly deserves the label “literary”, being rich in symbolism and philosophizing, not to mention frequent references to Latin American novels, poetry and history. The work consists of four “books”, and while they’re quite consistent visually, each one has its own story, and they all differ markedly in terms of subject matter and storytelling approach.
The first book, “The Pilot of Oblivion”, is the most surrealistic: its feverish, nightmarish sequence of events plays out with almost no explanation. I can’t say I understand all of what it’s about, but I love every page of it.
The second book, “The Soul of the City”, maintains a certain dream logic, but has a rather more straightforward plot: its protagonists have a clearly defined quest, though its purpose is more symbolic than rational. I think this book could just about be classified as magical realism.
The third book, “The Island of Guano”, is the most dramatic and action-packed, but also perhaps the hardest to follow. Its internal logic seems more consistent than that of the previous two – it doesn’t feel as dreamlike – but it’s still full of weirdness. I suppose I’d label it absurdism. To a much greater extent than the rest of Perramus, this is a story of politicking and revolution, and it feels as though all of its outlandish characters and happenings must be allegorical for something in the real world, but I guess I lack either the intelligence or the background knowledge necessary to make sense of most of it – and unlike in the rest of the comic, in the third book this is a little frustrating at times.
Perramus’s final book, “Tooth for Tooth”, is its most conventional. It has a clear quest, similar in vein to that of the second book, but here the dream logic and magical elements are absent. More than the others, this book relies on real-world historical and cultural references. It may feel less heady and profound than the first three books, but it’s no less enjoyable. It’s something of a bizarre take on a globetrotting adventure story, and it’s a lot of fun.
I’ve written this whole review so far without addressing what Perramus is actually about, and that’s because it’s sometimes quite hard to parse. What’s clear is that it’s about Latin American (and particularly Argentinian) dictatorship. It critiques authoritarian regimes and celebrates resistance, but it focuses more on spiritual or cultural resistance than straight-up political opposition or armed revolution. It’s also to a significant degree a story about stories – about how stories are made and told. I’m confident that there’s a whole lot more going on – for example relating to history, identity, and the societal role of intellectuals and the arts – but I’ll need at least a second read-through before I can put that into words.
If you need a conventional, straightforward narrative in your comics in order to enjoy them, you should look elsewhere. Likewise, there’s little here for readers seeking believable, three-dimensional characters and engaging interpersonal drama. Fans of clean cartooning or artistic realism won’t find much to enjoy either. However, for those who enjoy enigmatic, open-ended stories rich in symbolism – and particularly those with a taste for experimental art – Perramus is a must-read.
May 27, 2021
I only read parts 1 and 2. This sounded right up my alley, but didn't quite work for me. Fantagraphics, as usual, did a great job on the physical product.
March 8, 2020
Dopo la ripubblicazione di questo fumetto degli anni '80 che non avevo mai sentito nominare ho letto per mesi di quanto fosse un caposaldo imperdibile. Conoscendo la bravura di Breccia ho deciso che dovevo assolutamente leggerlo, complice il meraviglioso teschio in copertina, ma sono rimasto deluso.
Le tavole di Breccia sono fantastiche (anche se molto spesso poco leggibili: sono stampate troppo piccole? In originale erano più grandi?), ma le 4 storie sono inconsistenti e allegoriche in modo poco interessante. Mi sono annoiato molto a leggerlo e spero che il motivo sia che mi sono perso riferimenti importanti, perché altrimenti le lodi a questo fumetto sono francamente fuori luogo.
Le tavole di Breccia sono fantastiche (anche se molto spesso poco leggibili: sono stampate troppo piccole? In originale erano più grandi?), ma le 4 storie sono inconsistenti e allegoriche in modo poco interessante. Mi sono annoiato molto a leggerlo e spero che il motivo sia che mi sono perso riferimenti importanti, perché altrimenti le lodi a questo fumetto sono francamente fuori luogo.
April 3, 2021
I needed only three months for this, not bad.
The expressionist art is great and personal. Story is unique and full of real figures impemented in a political and artistic setting. If you combine art and story, the result is unbearable - too difficult to follow, too complex and sometimes, kind of a bore.
Still, seeing the names behind it and especially breccia i'll put my money on me not getting a lot of stuff - i'd go with 50-60% understood of those offered. Surely it needs second and third readings sometime in the future.
The expressionist art is great and personal. Story is unique and full of real figures impemented in a political and artistic setting. If you combine art and story, the result is unbearable - too difficult to follow, too complex and sometimes, kind of a bore.
Still, seeing the names behind it and especially breccia i'll put my money on me not getting a lot of stuff - i'd go with 50-60% understood of those offered. Surely it needs second and third readings sometime in the future.
June 8, 2022
This book is incredible, this book is amazing. This book is also filled with references and themes that I did not understand. I'm really excited for when I reread this book after I know more about the context. The art is incredible, Breccia seems to call on an art style from another dimension. Fantastic.
April 8, 2025
Alberto Breccio makes amazing art-- art which lends itself well to sweaty South American noir. As our heroes resist imperialism, everyone is making big, expressive, ugly faces in black and white.
At times, it's a less cloying version of N.K. Jemisin’s The City We Became (what if, like, the setting was a character in the story?). At other times, it's Jorge Luis Borges fan-fiction, where he guides our central players on their extravagant quests and is allowed asides to deliver neologisms; "I don't speak to be understood any more than I eat in order to be weighed."
Though this thing won all all sorts of Serious Awards, this story often feels a little silly in how it's very much written by dudes, for dudes. I shouldn't be surprised how catering to the general dude fandom can win recognition-- besides Borges, we get lionized appearances from Frank Sinatra, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, and Fidel Castro, helping our rag-tag heroes navigate the early 1980s military dictatorship in Argentina.
Glad I read it, and I'd enjoy reading something under 500 pages by this artist/author collab.
At times, it's a less cloying version of N.K. Jemisin’s The City We Became (what if, like, the setting was a character in the story?). At other times, it's Jorge Luis Borges fan-fiction, where he guides our central players on their extravagant quests and is allowed asides to deliver neologisms; "I don't speak to be understood any more than I eat in order to be weighed."
Though this thing won all all sorts of Serious Awards, this story often feels a little silly in how it's very much written by dudes, for dudes. I shouldn't be surprised how catering to the general dude fandom can win recognition-- besides Borges, we get lionized appearances from Frank Sinatra, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, and Fidel Castro, helping our rag-tag heroes navigate the early 1980s military dictatorship in Argentina.
Glad I read it, and I'd enjoy reading something under 500 pages by this artist/author collab.
January 15, 2021
Everyone's a declinist nowadays, so let's hear some good news: the last decade has seen an unprecedented boom in definitive translations and editions of the masterpieces of world comics, many of them under review here, from the treasures of shōjo and josei manga (
The Heart of Thomas
,
Claudine
,
Helter Skelter: Fashion Unfriendly
) to dizzying Euro-esoterica (
The Incal
, the
Obscure Cities
series), and especially the genius of Argentina:
The Eternaut
,
Mort Cinder
,
Alack Sinner
, and the topic of this piece, writer Juan Sasturain and artist Alberto Breccia's Perramus: The City and Oblivion.
Fantagraphics is publishing Breccia’s corpus systematically in their Alberto Breccia Library series. He is renowned for his surreally brooding style, heavy with black spotting and slashing bursts of white or gray, accomplished with a variety of inventive methods, including inkwash, collage, photography, and more. His vision sometimes proved controversial. For example, his and writer Héctor Germán Oesterheld’s 1969 remake of Oesterheld’s classic ‘50s alien-invasion series The Eternaut was canceled in magazine serialization, partially because readers complained they couldn’t decipher the psychedelic art, which portrayed even mundane suburban settings with delirious linework and collage. (Fantagraphics has also recently reprinted The Eternaut 1969 in a beautiful hardcover volume, and more of Breccia’s work, including his and Oesterheld’s graphic biography of Che Guevara and his celebrated H. P. Lovecraft adaptations, is on the way.)
Perramus is a series of four graphic novels created mostly in the 1980s after Breccia asked the Argentine novelist and comics critic Juan Sasturain to write him a script for an adventure comic they could sell to the European market. Sasturain responded with the story of the eponymous hero, a resistance fighter during Argentina’s 1976-1983 military dictatorship, a CIA-backed reign of terror against leftists and other elements deemed subversive.
In the first volume, The Pilot of Oblivion, our hero discovers that his revolutionary cell has been discovered; Breccia’s magic-realist skull-faced Marshals are coming to disappear them in the night. Panicked, he flees and leaves his comrades to be killed. Later, in a bar called the Aleph, a madame offers him a tryst with a prostitute named Oblivion, and he wakes the next day with no memory and no individual identity beyond a sense of cultural history. He takes the name Perramus from the brand name of his jacket—perhaps the leftist authors’ satire, which will recur in other contexts, on capitalism’s usurpation of human identity. He eventually joins up with an Afro-Uruguayan sailer named Canelones and an old aviator known as Enemy, for his service as a despotic island regime’s official scapegoat. Together they carry on the work of resistance to the dictatorship, in which they are surprisingly joined by that icon of the Argentine imagination, Jorge Luis Borges. Of his political shift from right to left, Borges explains to Perramus,
The second volume, The Soul of the City, is my favorite. Here Borges leads Perramus, Canelones, and Enemy on a quest to find seven people who each embody pieces of the soul of Santa María, Breccia and Sasturain’s stand-in for Buenos Aires. These are the most inventive of the volume’s fictions, Borgesian, yes, but also bawdy and bitter. Our quartet discovers a prostitute who will not accept the regime’s skull-faced currency, a sexual athlete who finds himself unable to perform when he falls in love, an old man who won’t allow the Marshals to commandeer his apartment building for their political spectacles, and other such figures of integrity—each of whom, furthermore, corresponds to one of the Seven Deadly Sins, as Breccia and Sasturain side with all that is barred and banned by the righteous regime.
The third volume, The Island of Guano, is an ingenious but overlong postcolonial thriller/satire that sees our heroes return to Enemy’s island, a de facto American economic colony whose extractive bird guano industry is supervised by the Kissinger-esque American Mr. Whitesnow. If the prior stories emphasized art and imagination, this one runs on comic action, with its revolutionary circus performers and climactic rain of shit (either Bolaño read this or both Perramus and By Night in Chile are alluding to a common precursor). It is also impelled by a sarcastic commentary on the U.S.-led world order, as everybody from Reagan to the Pope to Spielberg to Third World comprador dictators are caricatured. This volume’s most fascinating figure is Uncle Galapagos, a stories revolutionary who promotes the mysterious “tortoise strategy,” according to which, “If we eliminate time, all roads, slow or fast, lead to revolution, and so they are irrelevant,” an echo of Borges’s own conservative revolutionism. Incidentally, Sasturain and Breccia use the prologue of this volume to rectify another historical injustice: in their Cervantine fiction, after Borges publishes his account of his adventures with Perramus, wittily titled Fricciones, he is awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature.
The fourth volume, Tooth for Tooth, is the longest but slightest. In this adventure, Gabriel García Márquez sends Perramus and friends on a quest to recover lost teeth from the skull of the Argentine tango singer Carlos Gardel. This quest reprises The Soul of the City’s theme of rearticulating the identity of the wounded nation, this time in a more gentle comic key. Gabo’s mission sends our heroes to Las Vegas, Paris, Tokyo, Havana, and elsewhere, as Frank Sinatra, representing crass American brutality, and Fidel Castro, representing genial but reductive international communism, make appearances. The conclusion, where Borges quotes Cavafy’s “Ithaca” on the superiority of the journey to the destination, movingly leaves open the nation’s future.
Overall, Perramus is a feverish dream of a decade or so of Argentine cultural transformation. If it is sometimes hard to know what Breccia intends to draw, we’re never unsure what he expects us to feel about it. The series’s later episodes rely too much, I think, on caricature and somewhat crude comedy—I think of the dick-measuring scene in Frank Sinatra’s office—but the earlier chapters combine nightmare and satire with a longing for humane culture captured in the figure of the Maestro, as Perramus and his comrades call Borges, who is the series’s most well- and touchingly developed character. Moreover, Sasturain and Breccia’s generous reevalutation of Borges, their portrait of an imagination that stands against tyranny, is a moving gesture: artistic solidarity against totalizing politics.
The book’s own packaging and reception is not always so broad-minded. The back cover hails Perramus as “an act of resistance in and of itself,” a bit of U.S.-centric Age-of-Trump pabulum at odds with the work’s own tone. When in The Soul of the City our quartet rescues a cat who embodies the “commendable indifference” Borges finds appropriate in a time of tyranny, we are not being urged to resist overtly, and Uncle Galapagos’s tortoise strategy is another recommendation of radical passivity. On the other hand, the “Translator’s Note” is a veritable ode to anguish over what to do with Sasturain and Breccia’s rather brusque handling of racial issues, which, to my mind, is more bothersome in the art than the writing, given the collision of Breccia’s readiness to caricature with caricature’s role in the iconography of anti-black racism. The translator confesses a mild whitewashing of the text inspired by a determination not to do “harm”—that much-abused word of our own censorious clime. Also alert to harm is the only major review of Perramus to appear so far, which complains, not unreasonably, of our authors’ treatment of women; yet a book less coarsely bawdy would very simply not be this book.
I would never say that the ideologies of artworks shouldn’t be noted by critic, translator, and marketer, only that these ideologies are not a major work’s main source of interest. Sasturain and Breccia beautifully demonstrate this thesis when they make Borges—addressed throughout the book as an “old reactionary”—their national hero and bard of freedom. Fidel Castro complains of our heroes’ search for Gardel’s teeth, “If men would put so much effort into changing the direction of the country, instead of these things, maybe history would be different”—an unimaginative and dictatorial complaint to which Borges inadvertently replies hundreds of pages earlier when he quotes Stephen’s remark to Bloom in Ulysses: “We can’t change the country. Let us change the subject.” It is enough that freedom lives in Perramus’s imaginative flights and visual inventions, which a more overt will to “resist” would paradoxically be almost certain to repress.
Fantagraphics is publishing Breccia’s corpus systematically in their Alberto Breccia Library series. He is renowned for his surreally brooding style, heavy with black spotting and slashing bursts of white or gray, accomplished with a variety of inventive methods, including inkwash, collage, photography, and more. His vision sometimes proved controversial. For example, his and writer Héctor Germán Oesterheld’s 1969 remake of Oesterheld’s classic ‘50s alien-invasion series The Eternaut was canceled in magazine serialization, partially because readers complained they couldn’t decipher the psychedelic art, which portrayed even mundane suburban settings with delirious linework and collage. (Fantagraphics has also recently reprinted The Eternaut 1969 in a beautiful hardcover volume, and more of Breccia’s work, including his and Oesterheld’s graphic biography of Che Guevara and his celebrated H. P. Lovecraft adaptations, is on the way.)
Perramus is a series of four graphic novels created mostly in the 1980s after Breccia asked the Argentine novelist and comics critic Juan Sasturain to write him a script for an adventure comic they could sell to the European market. Sasturain responded with the story of the eponymous hero, a resistance fighter during Argentina’s 1976-1983 military dictatorship, a CIA-backed reign of terror against leftists and other elements deemed subversive.
In the first volume, The Pilot of Oblivion, our hero discovers that his revolutionary cell has been discovered; Breccia’s magic-realist skull-faced Marshals are coming to disappear them in the night. Panicked, he flees and leaves his comrades to be killed. Later, in a bar called the Aleph, a madame offers him a tryst with a prostitute named Oblivion, and he wakes the next day with no memory and no individual identity beyond a sense of cultural history. He takes the name Perramus from the brand name of his jacket—perhaps the leftist authors’ satire, which will recur in other contexts, on capitalism’s usurpation of human identity. He eventually joins up with an Afro-Uruguayan sailer named Canelones and an old aviator known as Enemy, for his service as a despotic island regime’s official scapegoat. Together they carry on the work of resistance to the dictatorship, in which they are surprisingly joined by that icon of the Argentine imagination, Jorge Luis Borges. Of his political shift from right to left, Borges explains to Perramus,
There was a time I affiliated with the right, with the conservative party, as an act of political skepticism, of my vocation to fight lost causes. Now you could assume without mistake that my motives are the same.As I once speculated of Joseph Conrad, a reactionary writer of adventure stories whom Borges admired, the modern writer’s conservatism can be a subversive force when it defends everything that militant progress, which itself comes in left and right variants, wants to exterminate.
The second volume, The Soul of the City, is my favorite. Here Borges leads Perramus, Canelones, and Enemy on a quest to find seven people who each embody pieces of the soul of Santa María, Breccia and Sasturain’s stand-in for Buenos Aires. These are the most inventive of the volume’s fictions, Borgesian, yes, but also bawdy and bitter. Our quartet discovers a prostitute who will not accept the regime’s skull-faced currency, a sexual athlete who finds himself unable to perform when he falls in love, an old man who won’t allow the Marshals to commandeer his apartment building for their political spectacles, and other such figures of integrity—each of whom, furthermore, corresponds to one of the Seven Deadly Sins, as Breccia and Sasturain side with all that is barred and banned by the righteous regime.
The third volume, The Island of Guano, is an ingenious but overlong postcolonial thriller/satire that sees our heroes return to Enemy’s island, a de facto American economic colony whose extractive bird guano industry is supervised by the Kissinger-esque American Mr. Whitesnow. If the prior stories emphasized art and imagination, this one runs on comic action, with its revolutionary circus performers and climactic rain of shit (either Bolaño read this or both Perramus and By Night in Chile are alluding to a common precursor). It is also impelled by a sarcastic commentary on the U.S.-led world order, as everybody from Reagan to the Pope to Spielberg to Third World comprador dictators are caricatured. This volume’s most fascinating figure is Uncle Galapagos, a stories revolutionary who promotes the mysterious “tortoise strategy,” according to which, “If we eliminate time, all roads, slow or fast, lead to revolution, and so they are irrelevant,” an echo of Borges’s own conservative revolutionism. Incidentally, Sasturain and Breccia use the prologue of this volume to rectify another historical injustice: in their Cervantine fiction, after Borges publishes his account of his adventures with Perramus, wittily titled Fricciones, he is awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature.
The fourth volume, Tooth for Tooth, is the longest but slightest. In this adventure, Gabriel García Márquez sends Perramus and friends on a quest to recover lost teeth from the skull of the Argentine tango singer Carlos Gardel. This quest reprises The Soul of the City’s theme of rearticulating the identity of the wounded nation, this time in a more gentle comic key. Gabo’s mission sends our heroes to Las Vegas, Paris, Tokyo, Havana, and elsewhere, as Frank Sinatra, representing crass American brutality, and Fidel Castro, representing genial but reductive international communism, make appearances. The conclusion, where Borges quotes Cavafy’s “Ithaca” on the superiority of the journey to the destination, movingly leaves open the nation’s future.
Overall, Perramus is a feverish dream of a decade or so of Argentine cultural transformation. If it is sometimes hard to know what Breccia intends to draw, we’re never unsure what he expects us to feel about it. The series’s later episodes rely too much, I think, on caricature and somewhat crude comedy—I think of the dick-measuring scene in Frank Sinatra’s office—but the earlier chapters combine nightmare and satire with a longing for humane culture captured in the figure of the Maestro, as Perramus and his comrades call Borges, who is the series’s most well- and touchingly developed character. Moreover, Sasturain and Breccia’s generous reevalutation of Borges, their portrait of an imagination that stands against tyranny, is a moving gesture: artistic solidarity against totalizing politics.
The book’s own packaging and reception is not always so broad-minded. The back cover hails Perramus as “an act of resistance in and of itself,” a bit of U.S.-centric Age-of-Trump pabulum at odds with the work’s own tone. When in The Soul of the City our quartet rescues a cat who embodies the “commendable indifference” Borges finds appropriate in a time of tyranny, we are not being urged to resist overtly, and Uncle Galapagos’s tortoise strategy is another recommendation of radical passivity. On the other hand, the “Translator’s Note” is a veritable ode to anguish over what to do with Sasturain and Breccia’s rather brusque handling of racial issues, which, to my mind, is more bothersome in the art than the writing, given the collision of Breccia’s readiness to caricature with caricature’s role in the iconography of anti-black racism. The translator confesses a mild whitewashing of the text inspired by a determination not to do “harm”—that much-abused word of our own censorious clime. Also alert to harm is the only major review of Perramus to appear so far, which complains, not unreasonably, of our authors’ treatment of women; yet a book less coarsely bawdy would very simply not be this book.
I would never say that the ideologies of artworks shouldn’t be noted by critic, translator, and marketer, only that these ideologies are not a major work’s main source of interest. Sasturain and Breccia beautifully demonstrate this thesis when they make Borges—addressed throughout the book as an “old reactionary”—their national hero and bard of freedom. Fidel Castro complains of our heroes’ search for Gardel’s teeth, “If men would put so much effort into changing the direction of the country, instead of these things, maybe history would be different”—an unimaginative and dictatorial complaint to which Borges inadvertently replies hundreds of pages earlier when he quotes Stephen’s remark to Bloom in Ulysses: “We can’t change the country. Let us change the subject.” It is enough that freedom lives in Perramus’s imaginative flights and visual inventions, which a more overt will to “resist” would paradoxically be almost certain to repress.
December 31, 2020
Chiudo in bellezza con Perramus un anno disastroso che per le letture si è rivelato invece fantastico e difficilmente ripetibile. Ho incontrato questa opera (sono riluttante ad utilizzare il termine graphic novel) moltissimi anni fa, letta a puntate sul mensile L’Eternauta, ed è stato amore a prima vista.
Il tratto cupo utilizzato dal maestro argentino di adozione Alberto Breccia, basato su toni di grigio, bianco e nero, ben si addice alla storia scritta da Juan Sasturain; Osvaldo Soriano ha scritto che ”la prima opera maestra sulla dittatura argentina è racchiusa nelle immagini di questo libro, inquietanti quanto gli incubi delle prime ore del mattino. Tutti i temi evitati dai politici e intellettuali, perché complessi e compromettenti, fluiscono violentemente dal magistrale pennello di Alberto Breccia e sono declinati negli arguti, debordanti testi di Juan Sasturain.”
Questa storia ha una quarantina d’anni ma li porta benissimo.
Il tratto cupo utilizzato dal maestro argentino di adozione Alberto Breccia, basato su toni di grigio, bianco e nero, ben si addice alla storia scritta da Juan Sasturain; Osvaldo Soriano ha scritto che ”la prima opera maestra sulla dittatura argentina è racchiusa nelle immagini di questo libro, inquietanti quanto gli incubi delle prime ore del mattino. Tutti i temi evitati dai politici e intellettuali, perché complessi e compromettenti, fluiscono violentemente dal magistrale pennello di Alberto Breccia e sono declinati negli arguti, debordanti testi di Juan Sasturain.”
Questa storia ha una quarantina d’anni ma li porta benissimo.
May 3, 2021
Strasznie się przed "Perramusem" broniłem, bo zachwalany wszędzie "Mort Cinder" miał być ponadczasowym świadectwem geniuszu, a okazał się ślicznie narysowaną ramotką. No ale tu jest zupełnie inaczej. Nieco magiczna otoczka przywodzi na myśl nie tylko zasugerowane wprost odniesienia do dzieł Marqueza czy Borgesa, ale współgra z nieco baśniową otoczką, za jaką kocham cykl Corto Maltese. Oczywiście nawiązań do postaci, dzieł literatury i przede wszystkim wydarzeń historycznych dotyczących Argentyny jest tu ogrom i gdy zderzy się je z "oczytanym" czytelnikiem liczba znaczeń musi rosnąć, ale absolutnym minimum jest przeczytanie posłowia przed lekturą. "Perramus" jest dziełem wielowymiarowym, a jednocześnie całkiem przystępnym w lekturze i kapitalnie zilustrowanym (to co z tuszem robi Breccia jest trochę z innego wymiaru). Nie sposób nie polecać
May 4, 2021
Going into Perramus, we are told point blank that this is a Very Important Book, so we are expected to cast aside any typical expectations. And immediately, we are hit with the strong allegorical absurdism that is the narrative’s stock and trade, illustrated by particularly evocative gray-toned artwork. But before long, we encounter a panel where a checker asks for somebody to explain to him what is going on, and the reader has no choice but to feel that character’s pain.
Perramus gets a lot of deserved credit for being a work of significant political resistance, produced as it was during a time when Argentina’s government was disappearing tens of thousands of people. But where this works against Paramus as a narrative is that we need to be from within the context of that particular struggle to really understand what is going on here. And if you are not, simply being told that this is a Very Important Book will not make the narrative any easier to follow or the artwork any clearer to parse.
This is an important work. It should be studied. It should be preserved. But as an enjoyable reading experience to someone outside of Argentina’s political struggles? Not so much.
Perramus gets a lot of deserved credit for being a work of significant political resistance, produced as it was during a time when Argentina’s government was disappearing tens of thousands of people. But where this works against Paramus as a narrative is that we need to be from within the context of that particular struggle to really understand what is going on here. And if you are not, simply being told that this is a Very Important Book will not make the narrative any easier to follow or the artwork any clearer to parse.
This is an important work. It should be studied. It should be preserved. But as an enjoyable reading experience to someone outside of Argentina’s political struggles? Not so much.
January 15, 2021
Perfeitamente surreal, a roçar o patético. As aventuras de um homem sem memória, que acorda em Buenos Aires ao lado de uma bela mulher e de um casaco, cuja marca irá adoptar como nome. Um homem sem memória, que se vê envolvido em aventuras progressivamente rocambolescas, que cruzam os dois grandes mitos da américa latina: a violência das ditaduras que sustentam países que são de facto repúblicas das bananas, e Borges, essa voz maior da literatura. As aventuras bizarras são uma clara sátira de humor negro, aos tempos que os autores argentinos tiveram de suportar. Governos repressivos, desaparecimento de opositores, ditaduras militares, subserviência a interesses económicos. Já Borges, o seu fantasismo de erudição e imaginação, surge como o sublimar, o surreal e imaginário como o único caminho para enfrentar uma realidade tenebrosa. O surrealismo da obra é sublinhado pelo traço de um Breccia a apostar mais no expressionismo do que no realismo.
May 7, 2020
Le tavole di Breccia sono a volte bellissime, a volte (nelle scene dinamiche) ho faticato tanto a leggerle.
Non è un volume che fa per me: il voluto sottotesto metaforico finisce col distorcere e semplificare la storia. I personaggi si svestono di nomi reali e diventano simboli con cui non riesco a entrare in relazione.
La struttura a capitoli mi è sembrata troppo schematica.
Non è un volume che fa per me: il voluto sottotesto metaforico finisce col distorcere e semplificare la storia. I personaggi si svestono di nomi reali e diventano simboli con cui non riesco a entrare in relazione.
La struttura a capitoli mi è sembrata troppo schematica.
December 28, 2020
Saga de cuatro historietas que narran las aventuras de un grupo de personajes melancólicos en pos de empresas imposibles y ejemplares, pero incapaces de torcer la historia. Como trasfondo, los últimos años de dictadura y primeros de democracia en Argentina.
Los textos de Sasturain son agudos y salpicados de humor inteligente. Incluye con acierto, personajes de la época muy activos en la historia como Borges, Sinatra o Castro que el lector reconoce y permiten obviar presentaciones y acelerar la trama.
Breccia nos deleita con unas maravillosas aguadas de personajes realistas embutidos en escenarios expresionistas, inquietantes.
Desborda calidad. Me ha encantado!
https://www.instagram.com/p/CJWZelDBkbD/
Los textos de Sasturain son agudos y salpicados de humor inteligente. Incluye con acierto, personajes de la época muy activos en la historia como Borges, Sinatra o Castro que el lector reconoce y permiten obviar presentaciones y acelerar la trama.
Breccia nos deleita con unas maravillosas aguadas de personajes realistas embutidos en escenarios expresionistas, inquietantes.
Desborda calidad. Me ha encantado!
https://www.instagram.com/p/CJWZelDBkbD/
September 3, 2021
Još jedna grafička novela koja se bavi temom vojne opresije u Argentini i po mom biti blizu najbolje na tu temu. Format gomile kratkih priča mi se jako sviđa ali mi se djelo čini pretencioznim a ironija nimalo suptilna i jednim djelom promašeno. Otok čiji je de facto vlasnik tip koji se zove Whitesnow, čija ekonomija počiva na obradi guana i čija sudbina leži u rukama 7 patuljaka i skupine cirkusanata?! Ubacivanje stvarnih osoba poput Borgesa, Marqueza, Sinatre i Castra moglo se intrigantnije iskoristiti.
Ipak ima ovdje i dosta dobroga tako da mi se sviđa ideja vračanja osmjeha na lice Argentinskog naroda po povratku demokracije kompletiranjem Gardelovog zubala mi je simpatično a Breccin experimentalni crtež često maestralan i svakako najbolje u stripu.
Ipak ima ovdje i dosta dobroga tako da mi se sviđa ideja vračanja osmjeha na lice Argentinskog naroda po povratku demokracije kompletiranjem Gardelovog zubala mi je simpatično a Breccin experimentalni crtež često maestralan i svakako najbolje u stripu.
October 14, 2020
An amazing work of epic adventure fiction with hints of magical realism. Filled with gallows humor and an incredibly meta take on story telling as a whole, "Perramus" is an absolute masterpiece. I feel like I would have enjoyed the read a little more if I had the knowledge of Argentina's Dirty War (which is referenced throughout the work), but there were a few resources at the end of the book to supply the reader with context. I grew accustomed to Breccia's incredibly dark, and at times unintelligible, art style in the excellent "Mort Cinder". Here in "Perramus" it creates an immersive environment of rampant emotion and absolute chaos, complementing Sasturain's tight and hectic script.
October 28, 2020
Dark and moody, a great example of the 70/80s political South American comics that drip with grit. With the backdrop of the end of the SA fascist dictatorships, Perramus is a cool protagonist to follow along on these adventures. Things get a little silly in the last volume when we are focused on recovering missing teeth from Frank Sinatra and Fidel Castro but the moody art and clever writing make it an enjoyable ride.
Read
December 29, 2021Story is confusing and the graphics difficult to follow. Interesting connections to other South American authors and politics. Heavy on metaphors and unless the Reader was around in the 1980's i am not sure the story would make any sense. If you are interested in South American Literature and culture it could be a story worth reading.
November 1, 2025
Opera praticamene inaccessibile a chi non abbia basi solide di storia e cultura sudamericana dello scorso secolo. Io non ritengo di averne, quindi: molto belli i disegni. Che comunque non aiutano a trovare dei riferimenti narrativi a cui aggrapparsi, tanto sono astratti e sovrastano i dialoghi. Belli i disegni, dicevo.
February 21, 2021
Some amazing art in this anti fascist comic from the 80s, paired with a story that starts of symbolic and filled with white hot anger, but becomes quite silly by the end. Worth reading, but probably skippable if you don't know very much about Argentina's history.
July 28, 2021
Wow what a book. Sasturian’s almost whimsical writing, Breccia’s haunting and brilliant storytelling paired with the real world context behind this book makes it a South American comics masterpiece on par with The Eternaut.
June 22, 2025
I didn't understand this at all, and the smudged looking artwork made things worse. Not sure if my lack of understanding was caused by a poor English translation or my lack of knowledge about Argentinan history, but this book was a slog to read.
February 3, 2018
the perfect dark politic tale !!!!
January 3, 2020
Una obra maestra. Punto.
January 16, 2021
Komiks genialny graficznie. Wyjątkowa historia.
March 22, 2021
When fiction mends unfortunate reality. Comics as an act of protest and resistance.
October 5, 2021
The story is even more vague than the art. Story is very poorly structured and paced. I couldn’t finish it! Don’t waste you time.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 38 reviews