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Before
the age of blogs, reading someone's journal was a special,
illicit treat. For true fans of the journal, there were the
diaries of Samuel Pepys, a Seventeeth Century member of the
British Parliament whose published diaries and correspondence
spanned ten years and multiple volumes dealing with mostly
mundane topics. Today, many people put large chunks of their
lives online, and we can all be privy to their gossip, scandals,
and deepest thoughts. But at all times, the bloggers knows
that their writing is for an audience, and they censor and
edit based on the image they are trying to project.
This
is what makes Julie Doucet's 365 Days, her illustrated
diary from November 2002 to November 2003, such a charming
book—it is both an homage to the Pepys style of journaling,
cataloging the minutiae of her day, and like a blog. Her friends
are only identified by the initials of their first names,
and one of her friends has been requested to be drawn with
a bear head.
Montreal-born
Julie Doucet has been a recognizable force in underground
comics since winning Best New Talent at the Harvey Awards
in 1991. Her best-known works are her autobiographical comics:
the graphic book My New York Diary and the comic book
Dirty Plotte. Doucet has been a polarizing figure for
much of her career. Her brutal portrayal of her romantic relationships
has caused some to label her a man-hater. Her comics were
sometimes held up by Canadian Customs. And in 2006, she declared
that she would never draw comics again, saying "I just don't
understand… how you can spend 50 years of your artist life
doing the same thing over and over again."
365
Days was begun by Doucet specifically as a project for
publication, and so readers see some of the development of
the project in real time, like when she brings her first few
pages to her publisher, Drawn and Quarterly, and gets what
she feels is a less than enthusiastic response. Doucet's reason
for the project was simple—she needed money. As a full-time
artist, she lives mostly off grant money, and throughout the
book there is much fretting about grant applications and selling
art. There are months when Doucet makes no money at all. Although
her life sometimes seems quite glamorous—My New York
Diary has been optioned for film, she spends her days
at an art studio working on linoleum prints, she goes to Paris—much
of the time she is worrying about how she will pay for things.
365
Days retains much of the trademark Doucet illustration
style—people have large, expressive heads and hypnotic
eyes, and backgrounds are chaotic. But 365 Days has
a cleaner line than much of her typically darker and visually
heavier comic work. The book production and design is amazing—it
is printed in two colors, with blue lines on each page to
emulate the look of a notebook. It also has four color printed
endpapers, and the small trim size and heavy paper give the
book a feel that is both cute and substantial.
Even
though each page is illustrated, it is not a quick nor light
read. Most pages are delightfully cluttered with text and
complex illustrations, and many require the book to be turned
sideways, making it easy for readers to be absorbed by each
entry.
In 365
Days, Doucet never whitewashes herself, or her life. She
draws herself vomiting, with chapped lips and saggy breasts,
her bangs curling weirdly or sticking to her forehead. She
reads her horoscope and tarot cards with the obsession of
a teenager, then dismisses the predictions because they always
say the same thing. Her combination of naïveté,
insecurity and self-awareness make 365 Days incredibly
compelling.
(February,
2008)
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