Walker Tate’s comics have a way of clinging in the back of your mind and staying there for extended periods — and given that this is the second of his works I’ve reviewed in the past week or so (the other being his most recent, Cloggel, the cover of which appears at the bottom of this review as a friendly reminder for you to, ya know, buy it), you can safely surmise that they’ve been clawing their way to the forefront of mine in recent days. And so they have. This is largely down to the fact that they lend themselves to careful consideration, as you’ve no doubt guessed, but they just as surely eschew immediate interpretation and classification, instead going the slow-burn route of conceptual percolation, for lack of a better term, until the reader finally either has a “Eureka!” moment or, more likely, achieves a kind of…