I have never really been a fan of comics. Despite a period of my life when I played Dungeons and Dragons and read fantasy novels, I was never one of those gamer geeks who frequented the comic shops ordering pristine editions of DC comics and leaving them in their plastic sleeves to keep them collectible and safe. I came to the graphic novel form quite late. I enjoyed the movie Ghost World and was surprised to enjoy the Harvey Pekar graphic novel that the film was based on. I found Adrian Tomine soon after and was drawn more to Tomine’s sad and beautiful illustrations than Harvey Pekar’s work. Although I had dabbled in graphic novels, it was not until Chris Ware put out his book Jimmy Corrigan that I completely fell in love with the medium.

Jimmy Corrigan did something to my head that I have never been able to rectify. Somehow reading that thick and complex mind-trip of a book rewired my relationship to the world. It is a book about how the mistakes of the father and grandfather can be replayed, altered or repeated by the son. The book skips across generations, tying three different ages together by little habits, relationships to problems, and genetically pre-programmed responses. This sounds a lot drier than it is. The book is subtle and nuanced and it is easy to forget you are looking at pictures on a page. Like with a great novel, I was transported into the world of the book and would emerge feeling disoriented back into my ordinary life.