Share:
PANEL
The Online Magazine for Comic Stuff
Box Office Poison
By David Herman
November 11, 2013
It was the sale that made me do it, and boy, am I glad.
Last weekend, ComiXology had a half-price sale on Top Shelf Productions comics and I used the opportunity to buy, among other books, Alex Robinson’s early 2000s graphic novel Box Office Poison, and then, I actually read it (all 608 pages of it).
Box Office Poison is what is called a slice-of-life comic. The genre is especially popular among some alternative publishers such as Drawn and Quarterly and Top Shelf itself, although Top Shelf does have a varied portfolio, including the latest works of the legendary Alan Moore. Set in Brooklyn,Box Office Poison tells the story of an aspiring writer, Sherman, who is now a salesman in a book store; his manic girlfriend Dorothy, a magazine writer; his flatmates, history professor Stephen and his girlfriend, cartoonist Jane; his friend, aspiring comic book artist Ed; and veteran comic book artist Mr Flavor, who lives in near-penury while a character he created makes hundreds of millions of dollars for the publisher.
Like most slice-of-life comics, Box Office Poison is about ordinary people who, like other ordinary people, obsess about life and food and love and sex and relationships and a better future. Given its cast of characters, it is also about writing and comics, and, lest I forget, the business of book stores.
“…riotously snide tale about at least half of the things that make life important to those living it.”
The best slice-of-life comics are those that have interesting characters, and Robinson fleshes out his major and minor players—and there are many of these, from the archetypical cranky landlady to the unusual lesbian sister—as well as you can expect in a 608-page book. Everyone in the book is in transition. Sherman is looking for his first big break in writing (he doesn’t get it); Ed is looking for an entry into the comics business (he eventually makes it, but in an entirely unexpected way); Jane is looking for a publisher for her comic-biographies (she finds one); and Mr Flavor is looking for justice.
Robinson tells their stories honestly and with a light touch. Dozens of subplots emerge, diverge, and then converge again, amplifying the feeling of incestuousness that pervades the book; everyone knows everyone in some way. All the while, the story moves inexorably forward (even tangled tales need a denouement). Robinson’s illustrations are almost cartoonish, but he has a way with words—especially dialogues—and there’s that thing he does to show continuing conversations or a crowd scene that I haven’t seen anyone else do as well.
“Robinson’s rumpled black-and-white art, his occasional bows to surrealistic expressionism, and his evocative, graphic lettering owe a lot to Dave Sim’s Cerebus…”
The first book I picked up at SPX this year was Box Office Poison, because the man staffing the Top Shelf table totally knew how to sell to me. I forgot what he said, I just know that I quickly parted with my cash and resigned myself to toting this massive tome through the tiny, crowded space that somehow becomes more massive as each second goes by for the rest of a long, exhausting, and exciting day.
When I brought it home, it was time for triage: limited time, scads of books, which ones must I read, lest I parish. BOP failed several rounds of triage because the general specs were not looking good: a novel about writers (groan)? Living in New York (double groan)? Trying to make it in this crazy world? Oh, and look on the cover…we get it from the perspective of three men! Fantastic! I’m dying to read about the plight of male writers. Wonder which one of the writers the one hot chick on the cover is sleeping with? I guess I’ll just have to wait six months to find out, because just thinking about it is forcing me to yawn myself to death.
I was right about the hot chick, but in all other respects, Mr. Robinson made me eat my words because I really could not wait to finish this book once I got around to picking it up. It is a story about people, coming of age, growing up, etc., But the characters are so well fleshed out you will recognize them as individuals from your own life. Everyone is flawed but earnestly doing the very best he or she can. No bad guys, no good guys, and super heros exist only in the imagination of permanently aspiring writers.
The best part of the book for me was the fact that Mr. Robinson could really write from the perspective of women. It’s tragically rare to see this in any medium, quite frankly, and graphic novels are no exception. However, the women in BOP come in various shapes and sizes and are treated with the same respect and nuance that male characters typically enjoy. Robinson does not use drinking, sex, or ambition as tropes with which to indicate “this is a bad girl”. Women on the heavier-side are not used for ridicule or comedic footballs.
