![]() I have not wanted to read anything really fucking sad for the past few days. If you’ve read Chris Ware-maybe you’ve read Jimmy Corrigan: The Smartest Kid on Earth or Building Stories, both of which are exceptional-hell, Building Stories is like the invention of a new genre of reading itself-if you’ve read Chris Ware you likely know that his work can be really fucking sad. I tooled around with the cover for a half hour or so on that Wednesday then started in on making dinner, the making of which was interrupted by a text from a friend telling me about Berman’s suicide. Here are two pictures that fail to capture how gorgeous this thing is: There’s also a crossword puzzle, a maze, and other minutiae. If you’ve read Ware, you’ll know that his work is often crammed with little details like this. ![]() The spine section of the jacket is also quite amusing-a sort of TV Guide goof that stages Rusty Brown as a television special (in four parts, including comedy, western, sci-fi, and drama). I had spent some time simply looking at the book’s exquisite book jacket, which unfolds into a kind of two-sided poster thing, complete with notes and suggestions how the reader might personalize the jacket by folding it in different ways. A finished review copy arrived on August 7th, 2019, the day that David Berman died. ![]() I finally dug into Chris Ware’s forthcoming graphic novel, Rusty Brown yesterday. ![]()
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