Alec is a brilliant and insightful romp through Eddie Campbell's own life, and it represents one of the best, and first, works in the autobiographical-comics genre. In it, we witness Eddie's progression from "beer to wine," or to put it more accurately, his inevitable maturation through time. Whether it's tales of his early pub-crawlin' days, or glimpses into his current private life with "wifey" and kids, there are "truths" here that transcend the factual and paint a picture of the way life should be. This collection, numbered at 51 in The Comics Journal's top comics of the century, has been much sought after by collectors of the serious graphic novel as well as readers new to the idea of Top Shelf Productions
Eddie Campbell is a British comics artist and cartoonist whose work has shaped the evolution of modern graphic storytelling. He is widely known as the illustrator and publisher of From Hell, his long collaboration with Alan Moore that reimagines the Jack the Ripper case through an ambitious and meticulously researched narrative. Campbell is also the creator of the long-running semi-autobiographical Alec series, later collected in Alec: The Years Have Pants, and the satirical adventure cycle Bacchus, which follows a handful of Greek gods who have wandered into the contemporary world. His scratchy pen-and-ink technique draws on impressionist influences and early masters of expressive line art, while his writing blends humor, candor, and literary ambition in a manner that critics have compared to Jack Kerouac and Henry Miller. Campbell began developing autobiographical comics in the late 1970s before expanding the Alec stories throughout the following decades, publishing early instalments through small press networks in London and later with major independent publishers. After moving to Australia in the mid-1980s, he continued to produce both Alec and Bacchus stories while contributing to a range of international anthologies. His partnership with Moore on From Hell, initially serialised in the anthology Taboo, became one of the most acclaimed graphic novels of its era and further cemented his reputation for grounded, character-driven illustration. Across a varied career Campbell has worked as a creator, editor, publisher, and occasional court illustrator. His contributions to comics have earned him numerous industry awards, including the Eisner Award, the Harvey Award, the Ignatz Award, the Eagle Award, and the UK Comic Art Award. He continues to produce new work while maintaining a strong presence in both literary and comics circles.
Eddie Campbell's Alec comics are an exercise in fictionalized autobiography. Alec is understood to be a stand-in for Eddie himself, and I believe he tries to stick as closely as possible to actual events, but it's also understood that, for various reasons, liberties are occasionally taken. Or so I recall reading in an interview somewhere. I think. At the very least, names have been changed, and not just Eddie's.
The King Canute is a pub where Alec and his friends hang out.
Tone-wise, the book reminds me of Harvey Pekar's American Splendor. We have naturalistically-told slice-of-life stories, but Campbell is less concerned with highlighting individual tales. He portrays much larger chunks of time and lets the stories within that period come and go as they may. A thread introduced on page 13 may not get picked up again until page 72, and so on.
It's one of those books that you either get or you don't. Not a lot happens in terms of a conventional plot. Eddie and his friends live their day to day lives, and that's really the point. You either want to spend the time getting to know everyone, or you don't. It's really that simple. Highly recommended!
I've always liked Eddie Campbell's work, but this book was, unfortunately, a chore to get through. The characters are too quickly sketched to connect, so as they drift into and out of Alec's life, I frequently have forgotten their significance. When the story is as driven by character as this one, that's a huge impediment. The entire book revolves around a group of men and women hanging out and partying together, which is fine, but I was constantly frustrated by Campbell's casual references to obscure or opaque events that probably made sense to the people who were there, but not to the typical reader of his book. Campbell's art is probably an acquired taste, and he's not up the level of more recent projects, but the artwork in The King Canute Crowd is certainly professional and enjoyable.
Enjoyable read. Appreciated the simple panels and ink drawings. The storyline felt intimate due to its simplicity and being based on real life snapshots. The only complaint I have is that at times I found it tedious to read because the layout and storyline are so flat and simple. It also wasn’t as relatable to me but that’s not a complaint, just a comment.
A nice insightful collection of vignettes about Alec and his friends. The nature of this means that there isn't really so much of a distinct narrative. The artwork is great although quite small in the edition I have so sometimes overlooked by the text.
I picked up Alec: The King Canute Crowd because Campbell's From Hell (he did the art work) seemed forbidding. You see I wanted to train for the marathon...
I'd also caught Campbell on Australian TV talking about graphic novels and the guy was both erudite and funny. Since I'd just read Bruce Murtard I was tweaked about Australian graphic novelists and Campbell is a Scots ex pat.
So I read it and Alec is nothing like I expected. A very early 'graphic novel' its intimate storytelling by dint of a succesion of many interludes is charming. It's first person POV won me over because it is so unpretentious -- and let's face it, comics can be extremely pretentious.
The story may not be much of a story with a ready beginning and end -- but as a snapshot of a place, habitees and time it's a real winner.
I liked it and identified with the storyline strongly. Maybe I don't drink as much as Campbell's young self did or his circle consumed but the listless routine of mates, pub and dating reflects a very broad cultural phenomenon that is so seldom adressed as good coin.
Why spoil it with extraordinary events and adventures? The point being that that's what it's like. We all have to make do as we aren't -- any of us -- super heroes.
So I guess I gotta now plough through the whole Alec saga which I suspect is still ongoing...But then I'm a sucker for autobiographic graphic novels. Thats' my preferred patch.
Campbell's success is that he extends and wry ruling over his life that you cannot but accept and relate to. He isn't about driving a particular perspective down your throat. Alec isn't about making judgments -- only about making mistakes and moving on.
I first read this as part of the Alec omnibus. Since I only liked the early stuff in that, in the interest of shelf space I decided to trade in my omnibus for the first two, much smaller volumes contained therein. This is my favorite of them and probably the only Alec you really need. Rather than an endless series of anecdotes, it feels like an actual narrative, if an incredibly disjointed one. Actually, I feel like I shouldn't love it as much as I do given how awkward and (unintentionally) difficult to follow it often is. But it's also (again, in a very disjointed way) strangely poetic and the imagery and art are just so wonderfully vivid. You want to be a part of that world.
Oh, Eddie Campbell...even this early book, basically just a rambling account of Campbell and his buddies hanging out at the pub, is a hell of a piece of work. It must have been even more amazing in the '80s, when nobody else was even trying to do stuff like this. It's uneven, but there are transcendent moments and a lot of daringly poetic turns of phrase you just don't normally see in comic books.
This is Eddie Campbell's non-fiction veiled as fiction as he pretends to be Alec MacGarry, man of action (or inaction as it were). This set of non-fiction accounts investigate his hero worship for his friend Danny and immortalize the activities and antics of the group he (MacGarry) is part of at the King Canute. Essentially Eddie Campbell's tribute to his days of glory. A great deal of it involves the characters drinking too much and making bad decisions with women. Such is youth.
Of the Alec books I have read so far, this is my least favorite. There's evidence of Eddi Campbell's skill as a storyteller, but the story of this group's drunken exploits just doesn't interest me much. I also don't like the roman a clef style of it, complete with fictitious names, which unfortunately set the title for the whole series. Nevertheless, it's an adequate start to what will become a great autobiographical series.