Ah, so that's what the fuss was all about.
There was some buzz about Leland Purvis's Vox series online, generated by some of the other comics critics whose opinions I respect. Sadly, the book seemed to be hard to come by. I only saw one issue solicited in Previews, and it was a later installment. I assumed I'd be a bit lost, and I ended up not ordering it. In one respect, I'm glad, as I thoroughly enjoyed delving into Purvis's creative mind in this collected volume, but I'm disappointed I waited this long to discover these strange but familiar worlds and people. It's easy to see why Vox was a critical darling among those who enjoy unconventional storytelling from the small press, and I'm pleased to add my voice to the chorus. Better late than never, I suppose.
Vox is a collection of stories, character studies, fantasies, observances on quirks of history and just random thoughts. It's unlikely that every segment will appeal to every reader, but there's definitely something in the book for everyone. Purvis's materia ranges from grounded, everyday humanity to surreal dreamscapes where meaning is elusive. Purvis comments on relationships and the human psyche, blasts social policy and personal respsonbility. He approaches the same material from other perspectives, yielding surprisingly different results.
Purvis's art is as diverse as his subject matter. He adapts his sketchy style to suit the tone of each story he tells. His own style shines through clearly, but he tweaks here and there. Despite the seemingly rough edge to his linework, he achieves a strikingly realistic quality in just about every story. He uses the black-and-white format to great effect. I think color would have actually hindered his efforts here. Even the more fantastic sequences are ebhanced by the black-and-white approach here as it adds a gloomy, tense quality to those pieces as well.
Another visual strength is Purvis's own lettering. He employs different lettering styles to strong effect here. Sometimes it's all upper case, and at others, he includes lower-case characters. His work seems to be clearly hand-lettered -- I could be wrong, but I doubt it -- and there's a clean look to his letters but a raw quality at play as well.
Peppered throughout the book are one-page prose pieces that spotlight just how well read Lurvis is. He shares nuggets from history that celebrate the unusual and the ironic. These brief segments show off just how perceptive the writer is. He opens the reader's eyes, but he never preaches. I love how he's embraced shorter form storytelling here as well. Vox is the sort of book that reads well in short bursts... should one resist the temptation to absorb the entirety of Purvis's efforts in one sitting.
The greatest strength of this book is its diversity. At times, the book reads more as a series of creative exercises, and it's a pleasure to get a glimpse behind the curtain at the process. I'm frankly shocked at the range the writer/artist displays here. At first, one is led to believe he's all about slice-of-life storytelling, but he offers fables, conspiracy theories and tales of adventure as well.
