Self-esteem and the end of the world

Anxious stress overwhelms Healy's 30-year-old fictional stand-in. Climate change is destroying the planet. His last book was two years ago. He worries he's a "narcissistic monster." His twin brother deems him "a mess" and chooses someone else to be best man. Luke flees to a hotel with nine self-help books intending to synthesize "an optimal plan for self-improvement." And life goes on. Five years later, his murder-mystery performance gets rained out. Five years after that, he's hiking a Greek island with a stranger--and ashes. Another five years on, he's witnessing the extravagant film adaptation of his decades-old mini-comic. Connecting the episodes are Luke's voice-of-truth Mam--and her references to the autobiographical family drama that played out on a whale-watching cruise (which resurfaces in pixelated black-and-white at book's end). "He loves this meta bullsh*t," a character accurately insists about Luke. Enhanced with a philosophical chorus of mice, seagulls, and cleverly inserted extras (presented mostly in six-square-panel pages awash in blues, pinks, and grays), Healy's production is a poignant graphic meditation on grasping identity amid relentless unpredictability.

A graphic novelist consumed by climate anxiety confronts a series of personal and professional setbacks in this inventive if uneven autofiction from Healy (The Con Artists). Luke is gobsmacked when his twin brother Teddy asks someone else to be best man in his wedding. ("Luke is a bit of a mess right now," Teddy says, explaining his decision to their mother.) The slight, combined with Luke's creative burnout (he hasn't published a book in two years) and overwhelming fears of ecological catastrophe, sends him into a tailspin. The story then skips ahead five, 10, and finally 15 years into a speculative future plagued by floods. Having abandoned cartooning to sell life insurance, Luke is perplexed when one of his early comics is optioned for the screen. On a visit to the set, he toys with the idea of sabotaging the big-budget production. Healy balances self-effacing humor with evenhanded introspection over pages of neat, efficient cartooning. His satire of the wellness industry--Luke relies on an app called Head for affirmations voiced (not coincidentally) by his brother--is sharp and touching, and Luke's bantering relationship with his forthright mother is another highlight. The decades-jumping narrative sprawls, however, and some fanciful conceits (such as the pair of mice playing Greek chorus to Luke's crisis) fall flat. The result is a playful but unwieldy portrait of a man struggling for self-improvement while despairing over the future. (May)