GRAPHIC-NOVEL COLUMN: Latest Volume of Palookaville is Classic Seth
By Dan Brown Palookaville 25 is classic Seth. The newest book from the father of Canada’s autobiographical comics school has three parts. It opens with the latest instalment in Nothing Lasts, based on Seth’s coming of age in Southwestern Ontario, then eventual move to Toronto. Next is a section about a sculpture Seth fashioned that sits by a bus stop just outside the Art Gallery of Guelph. It ends with Owen Moore, a fictional account of Dominion’s most celebrated painter, which originally appeared in serial form in the Walrus. You may know by now how Dominion is sort of like Seth’s version of the Marvel Universe. It’s a Canadian city of the 1950s that never existed, yet which we can all recall fondly. It’s the playground for the comic creator's imagination and nostalgic impulses. You might think, because the bookends of this volume are one true story and one fictional tale, that they have little in common. Fact is, they are both equally constructed. Nothing Lasts kicks off with an affair Seth had with an older woman at a Tilbury restaurant where he worked in his teen summers. It then transitions into a reflection on how he felt when he first moved to Toronto in 1980. The mostly small, cramped panels narrating his doomed puppy love give way to larger, more open frames that reflect the vibe of the big city. And funny thing, when Seth relocates to the Big Smoke he stops obsessing about his summer romance, if you can call it that, as he falls for Canada’s biggest city. What I especially appreciate about this chapter of his life story is the manifold footnotes he includes at the bottom of each page. They remind me of the explanatory material Marvel was notorious for packing into its comics in the 1970s to keep readers informed of connections they may have missed between other characters and plots. He also points out that the act of putting his memories on the page is fraught with complications. “I remember nothing,” he mentions at a crucial point in his narrative. He questions his own recollections at another point by saying, “It’s a muddle.” He contradicts himself, expands and explains his memories, revises them, then invites the reader to stop reading if they don't like his fragmented style. “Here, in this comic memoir, I can ramble as much as I want. Digress to my heart’s content,” he concludes. “And if you don’t like it, well, don’t let the door hit you on your way out.” In Owen Moore, which is made up of 10 one-page chapters, Seth creates an equally detailed history – of a person who never existed. Moore, we learn, painted Dominion street scenes. He had little success when he was alive, and by the time he had been discovered he was too far gone in his mental decline to provide answers for eager interviewers. Seth informs readers that Moore grew up in Corktown, a satellite community that was eventually swallowed up as Dominion grew. The character became an artist after experiencing a “vision of cosmic mundane perfection” while sick as a child in 1909. He grew up to be a Sunday painter who worked as a streetcar ticket taker during the week and was devoted to his indifferent mother. “He never married,” the narrative voice tells us, “That is, if his diaries are to be trusted.” None of this is real or true, of course. Just the result of Seth’s pure imaginings. Seth sets up Owen Moore as Dominion’s most famous artist, but the truth is much more complicated than that because it’s Seth himself, and not any of the characters he’s created, who is the most famous artist to come from Dominion. Dan Brown has covered pop culture for more than 33 years as a journalist and also moderates L.A. Mood’s monthly Graphic-Novel Group.
