Join an oneiric odyssey through a slacker second life.
Reality's grip is loosened as Spyda and Lynxa explore a potentially constructed environment that shifts between dystopic future and constructed virtual present. Like a form of multistable perceptual phenomena, Anti-Gone exists in ambiguity.
Anti-Gone is a shortish experimental comics novel of two young people on vacation at some kind of resort. These two exhibit a sense of privilege, as I suppose most who travel do, insulating themselves from non-vacation reality as they proceed. These two, a largely unlikable and disconnected couple, purchase various kinds of mood and consciousness-altering drugs and go to a Galeria of media delights.
Anti-Gone, which does not have an obvious connection for me to the Antigone of Sophocles, is about being “anti-gone” or present, about the importance of consciousness. Told with a surreal edge, we can’t see the faces of most characters, including our two main characters. They have a pet alligator, and various weird creatures interrupt your sense that you know this place and this world.
Variously paneled and drawn—by which I mean he does things differently in different places--by the artist Conor Willumson to disrupt your own viewing experience—to undermine the possibility of yourself experiencing the escapism his two antiheroes exhibit. Interesting drawing and storytelling.
I don't think I was the right audience for this. I never seem to sync with this sort of wandering dream/drug journey. Was it the future? The afterlife? A delusion? I don't know, and I found the characters not very interesting in their disassociative slackness (which was clearly deliberate, so ymmv).
I know I am very late to the party, but this book is amazing! I had read stories of Willumsen previously in Kramers and Ex.Mag, but this book is so far my favourite thing of him. Cannot wait to read 'Bradley of him'.
A pretty unique comic. It's all grey lines on either white paper that looks almost like tracing paper or grey paper. Very unique panel layouts and simple clear lines.
The story follows a couple who are floating around on a small yacht in a Carribean like setting. A small boat approaches them and a guy sells them some bootleg DVDs and gives them tickets to go see a movie in town. They go to town which is decaying with a lot of homeless, an obvious divide between homeless and the upper class. They meet a drug dealer and buy a variety of odd drugs - each drug gives you some kind of experience - either memory loss, so you can experience a movie for the first time etc. The final drug gives you the calming experience of knowing you're about to die.
Things go south when they start to mix the drugs and try and watch the movie.
This is more Odyssey than Antigone, and yet, despite the frayed and moth-eaten dream-sequence outlandishly mundane heroes journey, it asks Antigonic questions.
What does it mean to be present in one's own life?
How much time do we spend actively embodying our ideals, connecting with people we love, and pursuing things we care about, and how much time do we spend being pulled along by life's currents and going through the motions of...everything. This is a picaresque of sorts in which instead of star-crossed love, we have a couple who tolerates each other, is perhaps together less for passionate love and more from habit.
Is it possible to build the opposite of a life? I think this book is centered around this question, or its surrealist mathematical inverse.
And yet, no matter how one goes about living, the clock ticks just the same and life is still simply a finite period of time during which one disappears from one day and emerges into the next.
This is something of a Kafkaesque post-apocalyptic marriage of Seinfeld and The Jersey Shore (with a dash of Charles Burns?)
Or, to quote Shmoop (thank you Shmoop!) in their set of questions about Antigone:
Discuss the conflict between fate and destiny on one hand and free will on the other. Which dominates? How does each character grapple with their limited free will?
How do the play’s main characters see themselves? How is this similar or different from how they are perceived by others?
What function does off-stage action have in Antigone? Why, for example, does Sophocles sometimes have messengers describe actions that have occurred rather than portraying events directly?
Compare and contrast Oedipus and Antigone. How are they similar? Different?
Antigone assumed her fate was to die in jail and therefore killed herself, fulfilling her fate only because she was aware of it. The question is, if characters were not aware of their own supposed fate, would it be fulfilled?
***
Thanks to David for linking this thoughtful review of the book.
O czym jest "Anti-Gone"? To problematyczne. Surrealistyczna, oniryczna opowieść o nieco znudzonej parze, która w bliżej nieokreślonej dystopijnej rzeczywistości spotyka śmiesznego małego sprzedawcę, a ten funduje im bilet do "galerii". Po drodze spotykają przyjaznego aligatora, rzesze złowrogich żebraków, tłumy protestujących oraz zwalczające je oddziały policji. Para dociera do handlarza używkami, który sprzedaje im specjalne wzmacniacze wrażeń przeznaczone do spożywania na seansach filmowych. Reszta to już odlot, choć tak naprawdę całość jest tu jakąś formą absurdalnej narkotycznej wizji. Wydano to intrygująco, przyciemniony kolor papieru i sposób druku sugerują raczej coś na kształt kalki niż typowej komiksowej publikacji. Spore wrażenie sprawiają kompozycje stron, przestrzeń, czyste tło, czasami bardzo minimalistyczna, ale niezwykle plastyczna kreska - wszystko to potęguje wrażenie dziwnego stanu zawieszenia, w jakim egzystują bohaterowie. Tytuł jest przewrotny, gdy go rozpatrywać w odniesieniu do treści, sugeruje przeciwność odchodzenia, zanikania czy zatracenia. Jakby chodziło o przetrwanie i próbę uratowania jakichś doznań pomimo tego, że świat dookoła się rozpada. Nie ukrywam, że uwielbiam takie niejednoznaczności w komiksie, choć zdaję sobie sprawę, że to nie jest pozycja dla każdego. "Anti-Gone" przyniósł autorowi spory rozgłos i nominacje m.in. do LA Times Book Prize i Ignatz Awards. Dwa lata później wyszedł również doceniony "Bradley of Him"i jest on obecnie jednym z moich najważniejszych komiksowych celów
In the not so far dystopian future, an annoying couple goes to a drug dealer during their vacation to buy some futuristic drugs such as "nostalgia" that makes everything feels nostalgic, "no spoilers" which makes each experience feel fresh and new (like watching a movie you have watched for 100 times for the first time) and "near death experience" which simulates the last moments before it's all over.
The art is beautiful and the abstraction is a great exploration of how much can be achieved with so little drawing. This is definitely amazing. However, I personally found both characters very bland and annoying and couldn't care less about what happens to them.
huh, well that was an odd experience. i was moved to touch this books pages by the strange grey hues blanketing the extra wide and floppy pages. im pretty confused by the arts style and it took me a moment to embrace it to hear the story. id like to have had bigger illustrations, filling the pages or if the space is important.. an even bigger spread of page couldve been utilized. i didnt like have to draw the book closer to to me to puzzle out what i was seeing. im interested in the WHY and WHAT FOR that this creator was pursuing because i dont know the inspirations for anythinf contained btwn these plum shaded covers. perhaps the pages were dyed with hues of purple, not grey.
This is a weird graphic novel I found at the library. It’s filled to the brim with super cool illustrations, cutie little animals, trippy made-up (unfortch) drugs, etc. There were a lot of panels I want to cut out and hang up on my wall. Docked one star cause the ending was abrupt and random
Connor Willumsen's brilliantly experimental graphic novel, Anti-Gone, explores big ideas in a heavily cryptic and unconventional way. The story follows a couple, Spyda and Lynxa, who are vacationing amidst a flooded city and display a tepid at best relationship with one another. Spyda sports some god awful tattoos and can only relate to others via movie quotes, while Lynxa lazes her days away slowly reading a book and showing genuine disregard for everything around her. The setting of Anti-Gone seems to be a world struck heavily by the impacts of global warming and political upheaval, as evidenced by the dilapidated city and resort along with the rioting locals who clash with the police. But the reader isn't given much insight into why things are the way they are largely due to the story being told through the inattentive eyes of Spyda and Lynxa who get by largely due to their privilege.
A lot happens in Anti-Gone, but the impacts are left ambiguous. Unpacking it could take more than one reading, but my take on the story was that it was meant to explore the idea of what it means to be present in a relationship. Spyda and Lynxa are in every scene together for the entire narrative, but are they really present in their relationship? It's a profound idea, one that Willumsen tees up well, but largely is allowed to simmer away whilst other themes get developed too. The backdrop of the story allows for some commentary on consumerism, the leisure industry, social privileges and more, but instead of it diluting the central premise it only enriches the governing story of this fair-weather couple. I imagine some readers will feel a sense of disconnect to the surreal quality of the storytelling, but for me this was absolutely perfectly rendered.
Willumsen's experimental storytelling is only bolstered by his play with formalism. There is no fear of the negative space here as Willumsen allows the vastness of the backgrounds to just melt into the off-white pages of the book. Scenes taking place in the sea will only include the outline of Spyda's boat, and allow for the depths of the sea to just blend into the page itself. Scenes at night become a bit of a challenge to see, but it allows for Willumsen to really capture the atmospheric sensibility of the scene itself. And throughout, the artwork employs a loose, expressive style to capture a dream logic feel to the entire narrative. It's all really well thought out stuff that upholds the oddities of the plot well.
Anti-Gone is ambitious and grandiose not due to the scale of the story, but simply because Willumsen is trying things completely novel to the medium. If there's ever been a graphic novel that has differentiated itself from the rest due to style and from, it's this one. The story won't connect for everyone, but I would challenge those seeking something truly different to give this one a shot since it really is something special.
I’ll be the first to admit that I’m a sucker for surrealism, and I know that puts me in a distinct minority. Anti-Gone is an undeniably surreal, ambiguous comic, and anyone who finds that kind of thing boring, pretentious, confusing or annoying should probably just skip it. For me, however, it strikes the perfect balance between surrealism and readability. Its plot is bizarre and disjointed, but it is undeniably a plot. It feels languorously slow-paced and directionless, and yet a lot actually happens. In fact, it’s unfailingly intriguing, and often hilarious. What’s more, the whole thing is grounded by characters who feel very real, despite the work’s relative brevity.
Although it approaches its subject matter in an unconventional, cryptic manner, this is a powerful work that I think has a lot to say, particularly about romantic relationships, but also more broadly about life – about values, priorities, leisure, pleasure, privilege, ennui, indifference and consumerism. There are other themes as well – there’s a whole subplot that seems to be overtly political – but I think I’ll only be able to unpack them with further readings.
The art is gorgeous too, and Willumsen exhibits a total mastery of visual storytelling, constantly varying the way he arranges his images on the page. The loose, fluid art style is hugely expressive, and creates a dreamlike mood that permeates throughout the whole comic. I’m aware that this very looseness – especially combined with Willumsen’s formal experimentalism – will turn a lot of people off, but for me it’s hugely appealing.
The other Willumsen comic I’ve read, Bradley of Him, really impressed me, above all for its formal aspects (which are even more ambitious than those in Anti-Gone), but Anti-Gone speaks to me on a deeper level, and feels overall like a more accomplished work. Indeed, Anti-Gone has convinced me that Willumsen is one of the most exciting, promising rising talents in comics today. In short, I absolutely love this comic.
There may be nowhere for Anti-Gone to go if it is read in the continuing years. Willumsen makes no illusions about giving his book a raft to travel one from reader to reader, and tries in earnest to make the enjoyment of the text a thing of hieroglyphic departure into the eyes of its reader, bypassing the gut or the heart. What I mean is Connor is accepting of Anti-Gone being read as a facile and reassuring presence of eventual entropy, but demands that that read be accompanied by an intense and inseparable association of oneself with the childishness and flaccidity of the characters that choose that route of readership for themselves. Reading it as an indictment of that comforting vacuity is however fraught with Willumsen's own evaluation of the impermanence of a meaningful read. He himself states the brief and inevitably inconsequential lifespan of ones moment on the mineral deposit of his, but presumably anybody's, work. It will erode in any way it can, so why attach a personhood to it when you yourself will be taken under the waves while you are looking back at it.
Dreamy/hazy/surreal world-building comic that emphasizes vibes over plot. I liked spending time in the world--the exchange with the merchant was particularly evocative of games/video games where you learn about all the power-ups. It doesn't really "go anywhere" but I suppose that's not the point. Perhaps it's because I just don't know enough about mythology but I also don't see much connection to Antigone. Parts of it do read like a kind of myth. The use of panels/non-panels is inventive. Not much mental health content per se, but plenty of ennui & meditation on memory/nostalgia/death/drug use.
Dreamlike, in the way that dreams can be simultaneously bizarre and mundane and frustrating (in the way, for example, that a dream, despite feeling like a movie, can make you unable to see a main character’s face).
While I’m not in love with the story, this is really interesting storytelling and formal ingenuity.
This work was trippily thoughtful. I enjoyed the perspective shift it provided, much as the chacters enjoyed their own mind-benders. The art was distinctive and fit the narrative style perfectly.
Willumsen has done something unique here with his illustration style, and the story itself is like being stuck in a bad dream rich with symbolism you can't quite decipher.
There should’ve been some deep (I guess) reflection hide behind the story, but for me now it’s too slack, disjointed and dim. Many creative expressions though. I’m not the right audience:/
Came for the dreamlike tone and incredible designs/compositions. Stayed for the utterly devestating sweet soulful brutal reflections on loneliness and media and addiction in a drowned future.