Fantastic Butterflies - James Kochalka

In his usual sophomoric fashion, Kochalka tackles an emotion–the immense feeling of loss.

Kochalka hits again with his insane sense of inspiration. Best known for his epic daily diary strip, American Elf (americanelf.com), James is no stranger to writing about whatever the hell makes him happy (or sad, or angry, or full of love, or orgasmic). Fantastic Butterflies reads sorta like a Raymond Carver story, sorta like a third-grade assignment, which aids us into loving every character he sets down before us. It takes a relatively new genre (that of the autobiographical graphic novel) in an understated, sparse new direction; herein, our protagonist (and cartoonist), James Kochalka experiences loss and wonder through the actions and activities of his usual band of cohorts (who, of course, he knows in real life). He does this with just the right measure of magic realism (VersperTime time machines, Cancer Robots, a once-robot, now-dog best friend) and just the right sense of naivety.
The art is made up of his usual scrawl made intense; sharp contrasts fill up whole pages, images as simple as a glass being filled with wine become monumental. The writing, too, moves from his general meanderings into a well-paced, deliberate act of reflection. Faced with a world of hurt (a cancer-eaten friend, a bar fight, depression, a burst testicle), Kochalka resorts to a sense of wonder at the good things (music, dancing, beautiful girls, beer) in a sort of blind optimism that sometimes feels a bit heavy-handed and forced (I mean, this is the guy who, blazingly cynical, wrote The Perfect Planet). This near-forced revelation doesn’t come without its backlashes, though, and is book-ended by somber moments of loss and hurt.
Jason X-12, always a perk of any Kochalka book, wanders the night feeling horrible, and James just can’t get through to him; whether this is a real-life reflection of Jason or a metaphoric expression of emotional entrapment, I don’t know. I’d like to think it took equal parts of both, as well as a good dash of accident, to create the narrative.
At any rate, Kochalka had grown as an artist. Gone (mostly) are the day of frog erections (Fancy Froglin) and skipping work (Quit Your Job), come are the days of real visions. He’s ceased being the indie-artist who could and has become the indie-artist who does. And thank god for that, mates. He’s gained another fan.