There are tough reviews to write — and then there are damn tough reviews to write.
This one’s the latter, obviously, but not because reading the 2018-published collection of the late, great Mark Campos’ autobio webcomic Casino Son was anything less than an absolutely splendid experience, no — it’s simply a fact that this is one of those instances where separating art from artist is so utterly impossible that one shouldn’t even pretend to keep up the pretext.
Here, then, is the last work of an utterly unpretentious, immensely- (and justly-)respected talent, whose naturalistic tone, poignant observation skills, fluid minimalist line, and eye and ear for entirely unforced humor are put to use on the very best possible subject — himself. Specifically, his younger self, coming of age in late-’60s/early-’70s Reno, Nevada, a culturally- and emotionally-dislocated kid of Mexican-American heritage at at time — and in a place — where…
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