Mister Wonderful

Mister Wonderful by Daniel Clowes (2011) Some version of this was first published in New York Times Magazine—I remember that, though I don’t remember in what format—this book format is somewhat experimental—it’s almost exactly twice as wide as it is tall—so it looks a lot like the shape of a “widescreen” movie (I’m not measuring the exact specs or ratio). Of course, the individual panels vary widely in size and shape, but sometimes he has a full-page composition. And then sometimes it opens to a two-page layout, in which case you get a much, much more wide composition than you’ll ever see in comics, movies, or even art (I’m sure there are some instances, out there, that I don’t know). He really takes advantage of these different configurations—so you get the sense of someone experimenting in the best, most playful way—which is nice, because the story is a little grim. It’s a deep and detailed examination of a first, blind date between a man and woman who have both had (we find out as we go along) some particularly difficult relationship problems in the past. Nothing out of the ordinary—pretty much the love-life hardships everyone has—but detailing things we don’t exactly highlight on dating sites (god forbid we’re on dating sites, and wanting to put the best version of ourselves out for sale). It’s from the point of view (we get his internal monologue) of a guy, Marshall, who does have some anger issues, but mostly wallows in typical male cluelessness—but I can relate to him. The date is with Natalie, a woman most people will feel they’ve known, or known someone like, to one degree or another. The one issue I had with the story is the “saving the woman” fantasy—which is usually just that (fantasy, I mean)—but it’s a story, and it moves the action along. The other funny thing is there are multiple run-ins with the same “homeless” guy, Randy (third book in a month with a character by that name—what does it mean?)—like it’s Mayberry RFD and he’s Otis the drunk. Clowes has a way, though, of whenever things are getting a little too annoying, to end a page or sequence with a “zinger” (which was the structure of Wilson)—often really funny. I’m not the biggest fan of love stories with happy endings, but this take on the romcom is filled with enough pain that I was perfectly okay with the relatively decent outcome.

7.24.23