Look to Seth Hahne's review for an excellent and thorough treatment of this terrific novel, one of my fave's of the year, right on the heels of one of my other favorites, Kindt's Red Handed. This has a similar feel, the purposely (?) sketchy art, the postmodern reflection on the strengths and limitations of narrative, the story told from multiple perspectives, the lovely, muted watercolor washes, but this one feels more intimate to me than Red Handed. It's the story of a giant who never stops growing, who falls in love, has a kid… and who was a kind of messenger for the CIA, and internationally famous. It's not like a 7 foot giant, thug, it's someone who fall sin lobe when he is 7 feet tall, but grows to 3 stories… so this becomes magical realism or fantasy.
Now, this is fiction, but it is informed by research, including mentions of the tallest man in the history of Illinois, and the Thorne miniatures collection at the Chicago Art Institute. Each of the three stories are told by a woman in his life: his mother, his wife, and daughter, and the wife's story turns out to be the most moving, even as ridiculous as it may seem in many respects. I suppose it's like the intimacy of King Kong and Fay Wray, it simply doesn't make sense, it's silly that any emotion can come of it, but when you see it, you feel it, you understand. And maybe there's something about what we imagine to be the loneliness and isolation of the Freak of Nature, the ridicule, the awe, all distancing relationships. Now THIS is my favorite Kindt book, because of this crazy intimacy with his wife, who is an architect who does miniatures in part to help understand her husband's perspective. As with much of Kindt's work, perspective is central, heightened. Andre the Giant's story, and one I read recently in graphic bio format, is relevant here. Awesome, a giant? Well, yeah, from our perspective; from the giant's perspective, mostly sad, as it turns out.