A Splendid American

Sort of wasted my day off- I was planning on writing a good entry here, but instead spent it reading the script for Batman: Arkham Asylum (the '89 comic) and beating Batman: Arkham Asylum (the 2009 video game). Though I did get to laugh with my brother at how bad he was doing at the game (he could have done better, he was being silly)- it especially struck his funny bone he was laughing so hard, I loved seeing it, though I was aware as I was seeing it how rare that kind of moment was. It makes me sad too.

So once again I'm writing far too late in the evening when I should be in bed sleeping/preparing for work tomorrow (sleeping IS preparing) but I wanted to talk about something first.

I was texted yesterday morning that Harvey Pekar, the noted comic author of American Splendor, has died.
If you don't know, American Splendor is an autobiographical comic written by Harvey and illustrated by a wide array of artists- chief among them in the earliest days was the polarizing figure of Robert Crumb- appropriate since, if I'm remembering the story right, Crumb had a large part in attracting Harvey to the comics medium in the first place.

I picked up a couple American Splendor trades at the library a few years ago and was drawn in by the brutal self deprecating nature of his stories. They're as true as he could possible make them, and often that meant showing himself in the worst possible light because he would hate it if someone made the accusation that he portrayed an idealized version of himself- Harvey had never written that out, but that's what I read into it. It's something I see so rarely in people, a form of honour bound handicap, or at least a test to see if people could stand you at your worst, that when I do see it/think I see it I hold such a person in higher regard.

It's the kind of person that would say "sure, everyone lies on their resume" but never would- they mostly say that so as not to be in a judgemental mindset when others do lie on the resume, or whatever.

Harvey was a blue collar intellectual, he read all the time and every once in a while his comic has him mention 'So and so's theories on such and such' and it'd surprise you because, as with all of his good qualities, he plays down his smarts.

Mostly his stories were slice of life, little anecdotes that maybe wouldn't amount to much in the grand scheme of things but obviously touched a cord within him. Speaking as someone who very often just talks and MAYBE if I'm lucky will realize how what I'm saying ties into something more relevant after the fact, I appreciate a good story that's just fun to listen to.

Similarly, there was this one time in my last year of high school when my class had to essentially spend time talking about "issues" with each other- there was a scholastic reason behind it, but suffice it to say, people were opening up with very personal stories in a crowd of near strangers... I was there, so there was at least one relative stranger to listen to their stories. So I talked about the charge I got after seeing one of the Matrix movies in theatres during a day time screening- that feeling that you've got a whole day to you when the sun is still out after a movie, and the adrenaline from an action flick, and what especially stayed with me was this feeling of empowerment and invincibility from opening a door like it was nothing (keep in mind this was a Matrix movie after all.. I was swimming in thoughts of life as percepted constructs that only by a miracle can be manipulated by other forces i.e. Isaac opening the door vis-à-vis his arms. Concordantly.)

Ha ha, I'm really not sure how to use vis-à-vis, that was mostly just a gag for Will Ferrell fans. Soo, a gag for me.

Anyway, after I'd finished relating my awesome story that amounted to me being able to open a door, I got a TON of blank stares and was asked point blank "what was the point of THAT?"

Slice of life, true slice of life, will generally be inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. I think Harvey would maybe have even liked my story.

What's funny is even before I heard he'd died I was going to talk about him here- I had just finished what I think is the latest American Splendor collection (or at least the latest one I could get my hands on at the library) I was almost finished reading it on the bus last week when I was approached by a mormon missionary... I wasn't sure if it was someone I knew or not, what with the sun's glare and everything, so I just said hi, asked how she was, complimented her on her hair bow thing (I tend to like those) and then proceeded to rail road the conversation to preaching to her about Harvey Pekar.

I think that was pretty awesomelarious, but I'm biased. Maybe you had to be there.

I really wanted to meet Harvey sometime in my life, that won't happen now, but you know with the body of work he's left behind, and the kind of work it is, I do feel like I've known him, have met him. It's no accident that I've been calling him Harvey this whole time instead of "Harvey Pekar" or "Mr. Pekar".

A great book to check out from him would be "The Quitter"- it's his story of his early life and is therefore really set aside from his other work as you get to follow Harvey as he grows up and makes the change from tough overcompensating kid to the adult he'd pretty much be the rest of his life (not to say he doesn't mature a lot as time goes on afterwards, there's just a very definite narrative arc to his story of growing up... yep, it's one of those "bildungsroman" things). It also has the advantage of not being written under the title "American Splendor" so it's easily identifiable for the purposes of tracking down a copy.

And away from the autobiographical genre, there's his book "The Beats" (pretty sure that's the title) that covers the history of the Beats of course, it's really interesting stuff, and is a great way to learn... well, I learn from comics really well, maybe that's not for everyone. Still Ginsberg is the man... MUCH less so Kerouac and Burroughs.

And I should be in bed. Sorry for the lame title I'm about to give this piece.