This unusual volume is an amalgam of slice-of-life, melancholy and reflective comics the creator fashioned for publication in various zines in the late 1990s. The art and lettering is crude, and the narrative often meanders, not unlike the main character (the author himself), as he makes his way across three different urban landscapes. I found I didn't fully agree with the points the creator was making here, but according to an afterword, he doesn't fully agree with himself anymore, so it would seem. One thing that's undeniable, though, is that most, if not all, of us can recognize something of ourselves in the 20-something directionless limbo in which the character exists.
There's something oddly freeing about being in one's 20s, jobless and alone. There's no responsibility, no schedule, no pressure. It's a time when one has a chance to get to know oneself. Al uses that time to observe the world around him. He spent some time in Portland, moving to Providence. One week, he even ventures into Manhattan to experience what it is to be in New York. Al thinks back on happier times, even sadder times, and he's having trouble feeling anything. There was a time when he saw patterns in the chaos, when he saw life in the mundane. But these days, while things aren't meaningless, they are meaning less.
Burian boasts a minimalist artistic style that reminds me a bit of James (American Elf) Kochalka's work. When it comes to illustrating places as opposed to people, though, Burian breaks out of that simple approach a bit. His scripts make it clear that locales are important to him, and that's apparent in his art as well. There are some pages in this book that are replete with text, no images at all. Those are the most disappointing, as the art breaks up the grey page of pure text nicely.
Burian's character dismisses career and companionship as things people use to fill up the emptiness of their lives, to find meaning. I don't agree. Certainly, it's true to an extent, but even the most unimportant of activities holds some importance. For example, this website... Randy and I aren't exactly rolling in cash. It takes up time in our lives, and there's little in the way of palpable reward. But I find meaning and importance in something as unimportant as writing about comics.
I think that may be the point, though. Burian's character is approaching life from a limited viewpoint. I recognize myself in his aimlessness. I was once like that. I thought a life of occasional pleasures and little accomplishment was satisfying as well. But I tired of it and sought out something more. Judging from Burian's afterword, I think his view has evolved as well. Things Are Meaning Less isn't about the emptiness of the human experience, but about one phase of that process.
Note: This graphic novel was not among this week's new releases.
