And they all lived happily ever after.
Or not. Adrian Tomine doesn’t do happy endings. He barely even does “endings” in the usual sense: His stories tend to be snapshots, moments in the life of the protagonist that keeps going on after the story ends. Epiphanies and revelations are in short supply, and those that do come along don’t always change someone’s life for the better. Often, the life-changing moment comes only in the final panels, and the audience never sees what effect it ultimately has.
Tomine has stuck with this structure while increasing the length of his stories. The latest issue of Optic Nerve concludes his epic three-part story (told over three years – people who complain about DC and Marvel books being sporadically scheduled are wusses) about Ben Tanaka and his trouble with women.
Ben is still kind of an asshole. Not as much of one as he appeared in part 1, but not as sympathetic as he seemed when he was being jerked around by crazy women in part 2. He’s self-involved, hostile, and paranoid. He’s obsessed with racial biases, both real and imagined, and he’s generally pretty tactless and socially inept.
Like many of Tomine’s protagonists, he’s not terribly sympathetic. Unless, of course, you happen to have something in common with him; unless you’re kind of self-involved, maybe a little hostile, chasing after some vague ideal you heard about when you were 10, and generally have no idea what you’re doing with your life.
I don’t know anyone like that, though. Nope.
Ben doesn’t really elevate or redeem himself, but Tomine reveals kind-of-ex-girlfriend Miko to be less than blameless in causing their relationship woes. It’s both a cliché and an avoidance of one: The obvious resolution to the story would be for Ben to realize he was wrong and plead for Miko’s forgiveness. Tomine doesn’t fall for the predictable sentimentality, though: Even at this crux in his life, Ben doesn’t now whether he should be angry or sad, whether he actually wants to be with Miko or not. His final lines make one wonder whether he’s learned anything at all.
Ben’s turmoil is only increased – though he barely knows it – by the life of his best friend Alice, the former radical, commitment-phobic, who actually appears to have settled down in New York. Alice is a lot like Ben: She’s moderately hostile and self involved, and generally pretty blunt, if not tactless. But she’s managed, even if it’s subconscious, to look at her life and make a change for the better.
Ben, on the other hand, is just stuck and confused: He honestly doesn’t seem to understand what happened to his life, not even the parts that are his own fault. And while some readers will just want to smack him, others may end up with an eerie, creepy sensation that this all seems just a bit too familiar.
Not me, though. Nope. Upcoming thirtieth birthday has nothing to do with it.
Ben could be a hero or a villain, though he wouldn’t fit either role terribly well. He’s just a guy with some faults who makes some stupid choices and has some bad luck. He’s kind of an asshole, a bit of a fuckup, but he’s not really a bad person. In typical Optic Nerve fashion, Tomine just presents Ben as he is at this moment in time, and lets the audience decide how to feel.
In Optic Nerve, Tomine takes an “art as a mirror” approach. His lack of commentary or conventional narrative lets the audience decide what to feel about the characters (if such a thing can be decided consciously). For some, Tomine’s stories all look the same, borderline nihilstic tales of unlikeable losers. But for others, who maybe see something of themselves, he continues to tell compelling stories about real people in unfortunate circumstances.
For my money, no one does “real life” like Tomine. Every issue of Optic Nerve is a cause for celebration, and also for a bit of sadness: As much as I enjoy each issue, it always comes with the knowledge that it will probably be another year or so until the next issue arrives.
But it’s always worth the wait.