Through these stories Woodring explores desires, frustrations and fears - common things in a suggestive, vaguely allegorical way which makes every insight fresh and acute. Within his handsome lovingly rendered drawings (or behind them, or between?) lurk metaphysical queries of the most disorienting sort. The Frank series offers Woodring a seemingly inexhaustible premise, one which allows him to broach the Big Questions in a subversively accessible format. It also offers some indelible supporting characters, among them Frank's aptly named antagonist, Manhog, and faithful companion animal, Pupshaw.
The Frank cannon is relatively small - most of it can be found in two books, Frank and Frank Vol 2, compiled from several series - but presents a discernible pattern of development. Recent stories such as Gentlemanhog and Pupshaw have retreated from the usual graphic cruelty of earlier tales, but have gained in length and complexity. All of the Frank stories, though, are alarming in some way. The best of them either hint at sone deep, essential dread - there's one set in a crypt full of mummified Franks, for instance - or stick pins in our sense of accomplishment, as in Frank and the Truth about Plentitude. they are shaggy-dog stories in the best sense: elusive, provoking, and deeply puzzling, representing a beautiful union of style and subject.
Frank will take you to another world, re-arrange your consciousness and reprogram the inside of your head. It's cheaper than virtual reality, less risky than recreational pharmaceuticals, and more fun than falling asleep.
...for me the joy of reading a good comic book has nothing to do with how long it takes me to read it or how much of a deal it was when I bought it. It probably takes me less than two minutes to read the Frank strip by Jim Woodring... yet I think Woodring is doing some of the best work in comics today.
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