Join Julius Knipl, Real Estate Photographer, on a leisurely stroll past The Institute for Soup-Nut Research and The Municipal Birthmark Registry. Savor the smell of a phone booth, circa 1961. Sign up for a guided tour of the oldest continually vacant storefront in America. Attend a championship grave-digging competition, or, should you feel you've wasted yet another day, you can check in for help at a local Misspent Youth Center.
In "The Beauty Supply District," a new twenty-four-page story, Knipl attends an evening concert and unwittingly enters the world of wholesale empathizers and chiaroscuro brokers who make the decisions critical to the production of aesthetic pleasure in all its forms -- from the shape of an olive jar to the score of a string quartet.
Katchor is one of the most original comic artists ever, both in his scripts and his illustrations. He creates a bizarre yet recognizable parallel New York which is a bit more 40s than the 40s ever were, a bit more Jewish than even Brooklyn, and a bit more New York than the city itself. Somewhat surreal and wryly humerous, I have reread this many times.
A high-brow weekly comic strip takes the mundane aspects of city living and cranks it up to a near surreal level. For example, one of the better strips is about a store front that has been vacant for a long time. It's a common site in every city, but here it's been so long they do tours of the site!
Another strip has a family living in a high-rise but they always drop food and stuff off the balcony by accident. Our character gets fallen ice-cream on his jacket, but the family pays for his dry-cleaning and invites him up for dinner.
Many of the strips went over my head. I just didn't really understand the point at times.
The extension fallacy is when an arguer takes a statement and exaggerates the parameters so much that it becomes completely ridiculous idea. This perfectly defines the humor in The Beauty Supply District. The strips revolve around the nuances of city life. Much of them are concerned the variances of architecture in a New York City-esque environment. The constant raising and destruction of buildings, as depicted in this book, paints a picture of a city landscape that drifts back and forth like an ocean current, where the occupants try to find stability and meaning in a chaotic ever shifting concrete jungle.
The stories take mundane aspects and illuminate them to ridiculous heights. From tours of a shop that had been vacant since 1964. To a group of men at an office obsessed with their fire extinguisher. To a rich man who owns a private vintage bus and, for kicks, drives along an actual route picking people up. To the longer story of The Beauty Supply District, where many obsessions collide in a bizarre manner.
Love Katchor's management of scale/scope in these - the way the focus shifts from panel to panel can be truly remarkable, especially in the longer-form stories.