This lovely little book satisfied a question that has been vexing me for 30 years: How in the hell do you pronounce Adrian Tomine's last name??
Tomine claims not to care if you pronounce it wrong. As he writes here, he's been hearing it mispronounced his entire life and he's used to it. But it's a testament to his admirers that this question of pronunciation is the question he is asked most often.
Funny as it sounds, I feel like disclosing the proper pronunciation here would be tantamount to revealing a huge spoiler. I mean, Tomine uses the mispronunciation of his name as a running gag in his autobiographical The Loneliness of the Long-Distance Cartoonist without ever giving the right answer (though he nearly does at one point, but is cut off). So, if you really want to know, I suggest reading the book. (And for the record, the pronunciation I always used in my head when I'd read his name to myself, "toe-MEEN," isn't even close...)
This book also provided me with two belly laughs. The first is kind of a cheat, because it recalls the funniest moment in The Loneliness of the Long-Distance Cartoonist when, as Tomine puts it, he "lost his mind and yelled something insane at a frail old lady, and all of Penn Station fell silent" (59). If you've read that book, you know exactly the moment to which I'm referring. Anyway, to see the evolution of that scene, from initial sketch to finished page, had me laughing out loud all over again.
The other belly-laugh moment for me is when Tomine recounts his first (and, to his mind, failed) assignment for The New Yorker, in which he illustrated the band Luscious Jackson. He hates the image and, when he pointed out what is most glaringly bad about it, I laughed a laugh of such intense schadenfreude that, for a moment, I felt a bit like one of Tomine's own, more intensely flawed characters.
But what else does this book have to offer beyond a pronunciation guide and a few good laughs? I loved to draw as a kid, and kept on trying, even going so far as to create a comic strip for my college newspaper (a strip that actually got worse, not better, as time went on--which is about when I realized that drawing simply wasn't my "thing"). Despite having no aptitude for it, I remain obsessed by the process of drawing, and especially of drawing well, and with what tools, and how cartoonists develop their pacing, how they write (words first? sketches first? both at the same time?), etc.
Tomine delivers on all this and more. After first providing the caveat that the cheapest, most available tools are best because they keep one from getting to precious about one's work, he then provides information about his favorite pens, brushes, and inks. He talks about his methods, walks us through how he creates a New Yorker cover from start to finish, discusses his influences, the positive effect his wife and children have had on his work, and so on--all conveyed in Tomine's usual likeable, self-deprecating (but not obnoxiously so) manner.
There's a reason I've been a fan of his for 30 years, ever since I devoured a copy of 32 Stories, the D&Q collection of his Optic Nerve self-published zines. Those early stories were raw, experimental, flawed, and funny as hell. Since then, his work has matured in ways I couldn't have predicted back in 1998. He's one of my favorites, and now--thank goodness--I can finally say his name to other people with the correct pronunciation, also correcting them when they inevitably get it wrong. "Actually," I'll say, "it's pronounced--"