Constructed in a loose, appealingly humble style on a Moleskine-like grid, the 26 vignettes here trace a lifetime of neuroses and humiliations, from Fresno, 1982, to Brooklyn, 2018, blurring the line between character trait and occupational hazard.
The New York Times Book Review - Ed Park M D
★ 03/16/2020
Eisner Award–winner Tomine (Killing and Dying ) depicts choice vignettes from a decades-long cartooning career in this ruefully funny, often deliberately mortifying memoir. In the early 1980s in his California elementary school, Tomine presents as an obsessive, socially inept comics nerd, earning him instant ostracism from his classmates. But by his 20s, he makes a name for himself in alternative comics circles—Daniel Clowes, whom Tomine credits as an influence (and gets mistaken for frequently) refers to him as a “Boy Wonder.” That does not protect him from negative reviews, poorly attended signings, weird or hostile readers, casual racism, and other ego-deflating encounters, punctuated with lit- and comics-scene cameos (with tantalizingly scribbled-out names). In one especially humiliating but hilarious episode, Tomine hangs out with an attractive young journalist who has just interviewed him, when sudden gastrointestinal distress quashes any romantic possibility. Later, as a happily married father of two approaching middle-age in brownstone Brooklyn, a medical scare puts into perspective Tomine’s “glass half-empty” focus, and he reflects on the value of memories of his young daughters over his usual predilection to rue “small humiliations.” Graph paper backgrounds create a sense of peeking into a diary consisting of Tomine’s graceful drawings and precise lettering. Tomine reveals himself again a master of self-satire as his formidably healthy artist’s ego and attendant anxiety butt up against a largely indifferent world. This merciless memoir delivers laughter with a wince, to the point of tears. (June )
"Adrian Tomine has gone from “the boy wonder of mini-comics” (per Daniel Clowes) to master of the form... The 26 vignettes here trace a lifetime of neuroses and humiliations [with] artful minimalism."—Ed Park, New York Times Book Review "What Tomine is exploring is the dichotomy between how we see ourselves and how we are (or are not) seen…. We are each alone in our heads. Yet the faith of memoir, or autofiction, is that this is what connects us: the expression of our humanity."—David Ulin, Los Angeles Times "Tomine, now considered a master of the graphic novel form, returns in an autobiographical mode, in a book that lets vent the rage and fragility that are always just beneath the surface of his pristine drawings."—New York Times, 100 Notable Books of 2020 "The Loneliness of the Long-Distance Cartoonist is another laugh-out-loud book with self-worth issues. Here Tomine looks back at his outwardly successful career as a cartoonist via anecdotes that take in deserted book signings, mortifying radio spots and the perils of taking a cruise with Neil Gaiman, in a feast of self-deprecation." —The Guardian, Best of 2020 "Tomine’s mortifying misadventures become funnier and more emotionally resonant in the latter part of this memoir, as professional success and a growing family find the anger and anxiety that ruled the author’s early years transformed into an insightful and profound vulnerability." —Library Journal, Best Graphic Novels of 2020 "An unforeseen event near the end unlocks a flood of emotion unlike anything Tomine has expressed before on paper. What starts out as playful self-deprecation becomes his most heartbreaking work to date."—The New York Times, Best Graphic Novels of 2020 "Tomine, who is perhaps the John Cheever of comics (in the way they both excavate the human heart), shows how our lives are less tidy than that common memoir arc."—Kerri Arsenault, Literary Hub "[The Loneliness of the Long-Distance Cartoonist is] acutely, almost painfully funny—proving even a literary comics genius can still deliver great laughs—elevated by a moving, philosophical close."—Publishers Weekly, Best Books of 2020 “In this heartfelt and beautifully crafted work, Adrian Tomine presents the most honest and insightful portrait you will ever see of an industry that I can no longer bear to be associated with.”—Alan Moore, author of Jerusalem "A wonderful book about feeling morbidly self-conscious while also longing to connect with other people, even though it doesn’t always— i.e. usually doesn't— work out the way one wants it to. It perfectly captures what it's like to be a cartoonist, and also what it's like to be a person."—Roz Chast, author of Can't We Talk About Something More Pleasant? "A painfully honest and often hilarious view behind the curtain of the 'glamorous' life of a cartoonist. Tomine draws on life's stresses, embarrassments, and achievements as he goes through an evolution of self-awareness. A must-read for Tomine fans and all aspiring cartoonists."—Richard McGuire, author of Here "I couldn’t put this book down. Tomine’s vulnerability and willingness to share the cringiest moments of his life (ranging from juicy to uproarious to deeply healing) are a reminder to be braver, because what have you got to lose?"—Lisa Hanawalt, author of Coyote Doggirl "A charming, occasionally maddening ledger of our profession's unrelenting parade of indignities."—Michael DeForge, author of Leaving Richard's Valley "In this deeply self-aware, darkly funny memoir, Tomine recounts the highlights of his career through a series of cringe-worthy encounters, and readers hardly need to be a world-famous cartoonist to relate."—Malaka Gharib, author of I Was Their American Dream "Tomine explores with the precise touch of a dentist gazing perpetually into a mouth, doing the crucial work of the quotidian. It’s lonely work, indeed, but by dwelling for so long and so thoroughly in the loneliness of his art, Tomine brings us close, terribly close, to the halitosis of being human, to the emotions we might prefer to keep at a distance." —Viet Thanh Nguyen, The Paris Review "The book is a catalog of decades’ worth of slights and indignations that come with being a giant in a tiny corner of the literary world, and it’s painfully funny." —Forbes, Best Graphic Novels of 2020 "This merciless memoir delivers laughter with a wince, to the point of tears."—Publishers Weekly , Starred Review "Subtle, provocative, and sharply drawn."—Kirkus , Starred Review " A hilarious, frequently cringe-inducing masterpiece from a fearless artist at the height of his powers."—Library Journal , Starred Review "In this exquisitely rendered, prodigiously articulated work, Tomine proves again why he’s still that “famous cartoonist.”—Booklist, Starred Review
★ 06/01/2020
In 1995, a young Tomine (Killing and Dying ) rages at his classmates for mocking his dream of becoming a famous cartoonist. His fury makes them bully him even more, thus setting the stage for the stories that follow in this funny, bracingly self-deprecating record of the countless humiliations Tomine experienced over the course of his career. Early success in the mid-1990s leads to a series of humbling visits to San Diego Comic-Con. These include the thrill of his first book tour that ends quickly when no one shows up for his signings, and when fans on a comic book cruise don't bother hiding their disappointment at being seated with him instead of Neil Gaiman at dinner. From a less skilled creator, the litany of awkward encounters might have become repetitive; instead, Tomine's mortifying misadventures become funnier and more emotionally resonant in the latter part of this memoir, as professional success and a growing family find the anger and anxiety that ruled the author's early years transform into an insightful and profound vulnerability. VERDICT A hilarious, frequently cringe-inducing masterpiece from a fearless artist at the height of his powers.
★ 2020-05-27 A lifelong obsession with comics results in less reward than the author and illustrator might once have thought possible.
In his latest book, Tomine, who has been successful by nearly any measure—his oeuvre includes many minicomics and books and several New Yorker covers—delivers an understated yet illuminating graphic memoir full of insights on the creative process and the struggles of defining “success” in the world of comics and graphic novels. Early on in the narrative, the author is something like a younger Rodney Dangerfield, frustrated by a lack of respect. Schoolmates taunted him, and even the acclaim he earned as a teenage prodigy—“the boy wonder of mini-comics”—was short-lived, crushed by a backlash review that dismissed him as a derivative “moron.” The rites of passage that seemed like markers of success—Comic-Con, book signings, tours, awards ceremonies—generally left Tomine feeling deflated and resentful. Instead of reveling in the acceptance he received from the New Yorker and elsewhere, the author dwelled on the slur of dismissal as a Japanese American that he received from one veteran artist. Throughout his narrative, Tomine expresses feelings of inferiority to the more celebrated Neil Gaiman and Daniel Clowes—though an epigram from the latter, on how being a famous cartoonist is “like being the most famous badminton player,” proves telling. Even marriage and fatherhood failed to resolve Tomine’s insecurities or anger issues, and readers will begin to suspect that what’s at issue isn’t the lonely profession the author has chosen but rather problems of self-acceptance. A medical scare provided a reckoning and a realization that his obsession had become his albatross and that he needed to put his life in perspective. Upon reaching this “turning point,” he heads back to the drawing board—hopefully, for many more years to come.
Subtle, provocative, and sharply drawn—a portrait of the perpetually dissatisfied artist.