Emitown

Over the break I found myself at a comic book shop called the Forbidden Planet in New York City. It is right next to The Strand, a bookstore located just south of Union Square Park along Broadway. Unlike the famed bookstore, the comic shop doesn’t have an eye catching bright red sign, or banners hanging from the upper floors, flowing downwards along the façade facing Broadway. Instead, along with the simple sign hanging above the front door, the nerdy merchandise lining the large front window tells you exactly what kind of store it is, without the use of words. Now that I think about it, how very appropriate for a place that sells comic books.

I haven’t been to many comic book shops (there was The Comic Shop in Vancouver, the Forbidden Planet, and, of course, the Vault of Midnight, right here in Ann Arbor) so I cannot really say much about the establishments themselves. However, while I was there, I picked up a book called Emitown as a Christmas present for myself. It’s a collected volume of the homonymous web comic written by Emi Lenox, an artist I talked about last year on my article about Plutona. I think it is obvious that I’m a fan.

The comic features daily entries, or almost daily, that cover an array of topics, from her getting angry at a new scanner, wanting to eat, romance, paying the bill, seeing friends, and etc. A great bulk of the pages is filled with extraordinarily mundane things. Yet, it’s still interesting.

The comic is acclaimed to be a unique way in the memoir comic genre, or rather, diary comics, something that I’m not all qualified to weight in on. But I do feel it to be captivating for reasons I can’t explain. Is it the use of just inks and a pastel blue as the singular use of color? Is it the honesty of her words and opinions? Is it the way she draws expressions with a cartoonish aplomb and infectious spirit? Is it how relatable a lot of her entries are? Or perhaps it is all the dogs and cats (or the occasional llama?) that sometimes interject into her loose panels. I’m sure I don’t know.

 
During a break where I just wanted to huddle up and do nothing, this was the perfect comic to get into. I didn’t want to be transported to a new world, filled with fantastical creatures, or in the middle of nebulous space, or in some different time. I wanted to read about other people who are into comics; I wanted to read about a comic creator I admired.

It’s nice to slow down once in a while, and read something that is not “serious” but still artistically and narratively interesting. I hesitate to use that word though, “serious”. Honestly, it’s a word that doesn’t mean anything to me anymore when applied to works of art. It doesn’t serve any real purpose that benefits anybody. Just a label – an empty label.

I’m having a hard time bringing this together. But I would like to conclude this with a thank you to the Vault of Midnight. While I was at the other two comic book shops I mentioned, I noticed that they shelved their single issues without any protection, ie, without a bag and board. It kind of bothered me, not because I collect comics with the intent of keeping them in pristine condition only to sell them in the future. But because after experiencing the luxury of already bagged and boarded comics at the Vault, I really did miss it. Who doesn’t like their comics to be packaged nicely when they buy them? Seriously though…who?