I hesitate writing this one. Not because of differing opinion, clashing the overall positive response to this work, but of the number of reviews already typed. Google “Sam Alden Backyard,” and a collection of thought-pieces bubble up, some supplied by our circle’s most-trusted judgers of taste. The sight of such response sensibly suggests to this budding essayist “no more are needed.” The work was consumed and paraphrased, already, and by our most-informed minds, mind you. Even Sam Alden is miles beyond this book, preparing new work for next weekend’s Comic Arts Brooklyn showcase. So I should go cover something different, new, obscurer, and play a role. The world needs new comics to poke at, not the same old shit.
But, really, it’s short sighted to place a topic in such brief period of relevance, especially when it’s art. We complain too often of our journalists for feeding the ever-active news cycle, spending too little time on a subject before jumping to the next news peg. Out of such speed we gain bullet points packed with generalized factoids rather than any sense of true insight, so it seems odd, in our world, that a comic should only stand review-able at a certain period of time. The work isn’t exactly locked to any particular moment, so I should subdue my anxieties. Type this fucker up. Move on.