There is some really good material in here. In particular, you get a glimpse into how his earlier work informs his later innovations in the art form, but you could learn about the history of his work from Monograph, which I’m only a little way into currently.

There is a solid page of ads in here, and one comic in the colored pages where the text doesn’t necessarily relate to the story told in pictures, but the letting does, and every now and then the text lines up with the images as well. This comic was brilliantly done, and is a high watermark in Ware’s material.

The comics with an autobiographical bent are also nice. I guess it could be argued they all feature some element of the author’s personal life, but for some the parallels are clearer after reading what I have of Monograph.

But there were a lot of micro panel comics that were tough to read. It was hard to distinguish between characters, and the stories told seemed a bit inconsequential at times.

I still think Acme Library is my favorite, with Building Stories a close second. This one was okay, but I’m not surprised by my reaction. This is earlier work.

Still, this guy is the best in the business. He’s a living legend in my book, and there aren’t many of those. I hope I get to meet him some day, even if just to say hi and get his signature on one of his books.

Rereading. I adore Chris Ware, first things first; this book has moments of genius, and overall will leave you richer for having immersed yourself. That said, the abstractions of the comic form that Ware gets to in this volume get so minute, so infintessimal, that you seem to shrink forever, and never get to pull back to human size. I missed the storytelling that his larger work, with ample spaces provides.

Compiled from Chris Ware’s comic strips during college for The Daily Texan while his grandmother was deteriorating and eventually dying.

These stories are dark, cynical, and extremely mature for a college student. The comics get very tedious to read at times with an insane number of panels per page.

The oversized edition is beautifully put together and great quality.

This requires patience. It’s a 69-page book but took me hours to read, as it consists of tiny-paneled comic strips and four-columned pages of equally tiny text, along with a bunch of heavily detailed (fake) advertisements. But it’s worth it.

Quimby the Mouse is the third Chris Ware book I’ve read. I was ready to call him a genius illustrator/designer after the first, but I’m still unsure about his actual stories. They can be overwhelmingly sad and uncomfortable. I’m compelled to keep reading his work though, because of the effect it has on me. Very few books I’ve read hit me the way his do. The melancholy, the painful human emotion, the occasional tenderness, and even humor are delivered in such a unique way, lingering long after the book is over. This one in particular (collecting Acme Novelty Library 2 and 4, plus extra strips, features, and an essay) is essentially about two things: the death of Ware’s grandmother and a complicated, somewhat abusive friendship. It’s all told in individual strips staring the titular mouse, who sometimes has a Siamese twin and other times has a pet/friend cat head. The strips themselves, utilizing many different styles, are often idiosyncratic and difficult to penetrate on first read, but the cumulation of images, text, and themes gives the book its weight, its power.

In terms of style and format, the only book I can *sort of* compare it to is Alan Moore and Kevin O’Neil’s Black Dossier (as well as the 20s/30s comics and newspapers it mimics). But in terms of transmitting human emotion, nothing is like this book.

I’m not quite ready to sell it off. Maybe next year...

If I had to pick only one Chris Ware book one book to take with me on a desert island...well I might just pick none cause it would amplify my feelings of loneliness, but metaphorically, if I could only read just one I would pick Quimby Mouse. I am shocked at every turn how he can illustrate such complex emotion and situations with a little stick figure mouse. Mostly, the story about his grandmother and the little piece of aluminum foil in the toaster, and the very last story which has no words at all and the frames are hardly an inch but which discusses a very complicated relationship and actually made me cry. Using little more than diagonal lines above eyes to express anger...tear shaped dots coming off a head in arcs for sadness, Chris Ware manages to convey so much meaning.

This has been put on hold until I can get a magnifying glass.

Impossibile non restare ammirati dalle capacità grafiche di Ware: anzi più che ammirati, quasi annichiliti. Vignette che seguono complicatissime evoluzioni, storie grondanti emozioni narrate con personaggi che sono poco più di due macchie e due trattini, dettagli che assumono un peso immenso, episodi in cui si vedono solo i luoghi e i fumetti ma mai i personaggi, episodi in cui i testi e le immagini raccontano due storie separate eppure con commoventi punti di contatto...

Eppure molto più del solito la grande fatica che mi ha richiesto la lettura di questo libro, che nel suo formato enorme richiede di essere rigirato in tutti i sensi e soprattutto di dotarsi di una lente di ingrandimento per leggere o decifrare certe vignette microscopiche, non è stata ripagata. Perché la maestria grafica è sì grande, ma la continua compiaciuta autocommiserazione e disperazione è davvero troppo pesante. Anche le pagine di falsi annunci e pubblicità anni '50, pagine enormi dense di scritte fittissime, sono esteticamente splendide ma se lette restituiscono solo un sarcasmo malato e vagamente nauseante.

EDIT - scopro che si tratta di una raccolta di lavori che Ware ha realizzato durante gli anni del liceo. Non posso che essere ancora più sbalordito - e vagamente terrorizzato!

Ware himself says early in the book that this is all "early work." And it certainly is. It's sort of rough, playful but a little undisciplined. It has some really heartfelt moments in it--apparently a loved one was dying at the time of writing--and these are certainly the best moments. But there's a lot of panels that just don't have much punch. Having said that, it's still a Chris Ware book, so you get lots of fantastic page designs, fake ads, and all of that stuff. So: good, but he's certainly done better.

Wildly detailed, visually inventive, and full of heart-wrenching pathos-- more than his widely acclaimed Jimmy Corrigan books, I found Quimby the mouse the most compelling outlet for Ware's extreme self-deprecation, loneliness, and precision.

Bizzare, repetative (but not in a bad way) and often surreal, this book features little to no narrative and instead focuses on vignettes of the titular character Quimby. While the narrative style is very different from Jimmy Corrigan the visual and artistic style is classic Chris Ware, most times simplistic but at other points very complex. Besides the comics and vignettes there are also joke newspaper ads, letters, and few personal essays that vaguely tie in with the visuals. For me these essays were the best part of the book and feature what I like most about Ware, dark, personal, and truthful writing about family and the past. Overall this book doesn't have nearly the depth of Jimmy Corrigan, but is a fun read for any fan of Ware's, especially as there is not a lot of content out there by him.

other than jimmy corrigan this is the easiest five stars i've ever given.

you'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll feel like committing suicide over a mouse cartoon, etc.

there's simply no question. chris ware is a GENIUS. i won't even put an exclamation point. that is too important for an exclamation point.