Daniel Clowes : Like a Velvet Glove Cast in Iron Mini-review
If the keyword of Chris Ware is pathos, that of Clowes is menace. There's the strangely threatening banality; the over-the-top grotesquerie, the sudden touches of horror; the oddball conspiracy theories that turn out to only hint at the truth; the outright thuggery. He manages to sustain this mood for a whole book, largely by keeping it episodic, and ends on a bang. You might just want to get out your Charles Burns after this, just to cheer yourself up.
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