Frank Miller, “Sin City” Multiple titles
- Family Values (Started December 8 – Finished December 8, 2003; 128 pages)
- That Yellow Bastard (Started December 8 – Finished December 9, 2003; 240 pages)
I don’t know if it was that recent beating I took, but Miller’s macho tough guy personas aren’t as neat to read about as they once were.
Sin City is full of tough guys and femme fatales, all taken as a tip of the hat to writers like Hammett, Chandler and Thompson and it works for what it is, but right now it hits too close to home. After all, both of the heroes in these two books get the crap beaten out of them, and still they prevail in the end, (if only to prevail long enough to get killed), but only after saving the girl.
Me, I get saved by the bartender, who was the femme fatale in the first place. Not that I care, If my life was going to mirror a book, I’d rather it came from Vonnegut in the first place.
Or Penthouse.
Miller’s always has the one loner who can both strategize and use their fists (or incredibly big guns). They’re almost always friendless as well. And so, besides being a little sick of violence. (I mean really, after that happened, I couldn’t believe some people like to get in fights, win or lose. It hurts, and I can think of much better things to do with a body. On a boat. Mmmmmmm, boat.)
But besides that, it turns out that I’m not friendless. I returned to the Caravan six days after my beating, and saw a lot of people I don’t see that often anymore, most of which I think showed up to see if I was all right. Most looked disappointed to see that I was. “You don’t look that bad,” they’d say, “you trying to say you have mutant healing powers?”
But better than that was how a buddy started the “Dean Has A Posse” crew. Imagine walking into a bar and seeing a group of people who had written just that on their arms, along with “DEAN” spelled out on their knuckles. More people were recruited as the night went on and it soon became very obvious that I did, indeed, have a fucking posse.
Later in the evening as I was waiting for the bathroom, the bartender who pulled my attacker off me asked if I was all right, who also told me the same guy was here tonight. I looked around, but didn’t see him. I know he was told who I was, so I’d like to think he saw all the people with my posse tag and made a quick retreat.
In any case, it was appreciated. Now I just wish I could get this kind of support without getting my ass kicked first.
Rating: Both are worth working in a used bookstore and getting for cheap.
