It’s my understanding that among connoisseurs of the truly obscure and “outre,” Isabel Reidy’s 2012 self-published mini 1-800-Kravlox is considered something of a modern-day classic, and it’s not hard to see why : wearing its absurdity and outlandishness plain as day on its sleeve, it calls into question just about everything with its amorphous, energetic illustration and sparse, precise scripting — including, in a very real sense, its own aims, purposes, even reasons for being. It exists on its own, entirely self-created, terms and forces readers to either meet it on those terms or shrug their shoulders and walk away. That’s refreshing in and of itself, sure — but it’s also important.

Ostensibly a treatise on the nature of desire “starring” what must be, at the very least, an alien (perhaps even inter-dimensional, if not outright demonic) phone sex operator, it deliberately undercuts its own arguments — whatever…