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One of the greatest depictions of addiction you will ever read. This book will break your heart.

The Alcoholic isn’t just a story of one man’s struggle with drinking- it’s a document of his entire life: the highs and lows, the lingering ghosts and small victories. It’s all here, communicated with such humanity that if you don’t feel empathy stirring you might want to check to see if you’re made of plastic. From early friendships that inexplicably fade away to romantic longings that cling tenaciously to constant battles with abuses both physical and mental, this is the stuff of human experience, warts and all. There’s laughter and tears in equal measure, shared in such a personal way that it feels like a best friend has bared their soul for you.

This is the story of Jonathan, a Jewish New Jersey native whose life begins to veer off-course when he begins drinking in his teens with his best friend Sal. It’s not just about all the ways that his love/hate relationship with booze derails him, though. It’s about other addictions that are just as dangerous, like his co-dependant relationship with Sal, and his failed romance with a woman who drifts in and out of his life and from place to place, so much so that he names her after the current city she lives in instead of referring to her by her actual name. It’s about the way the loss of both of his parents devastated him, and how his great aunt Sadie was always there to comfort him. It’s about where his job as a writer has taken him, and what is was like to be one living in New York City during the terrorist attack on 9-11. It’s a lovingly re-created timeline, a life flashing before your eyes, an account of what makes us pathetically and triumphantly human.

Writer Jonathan Ames has created a story with all the feel of a memoir, without ever getting overly self-indulgent or coming across as crying for help. The narrative, though occasionally disjointed and jumpy, transports the reader smoothly along, like it was always meant to unfold in exactly this way. There are plenty of childhood fumblings and lessons learned, embarrassing confessions and moments of glorious depravity, but none of it turns you away. It doesn’t get mired in dark navel-gazing, and plays things up for humorous effect more often than not, in that way that’s reminiscent of late-night tale-spinning at the local pub, which is only appropriate.

The artwork by Dean Haspiel is easily his best work to date. Lately he’s been doing a lot of illustrating for Harvey Pekar, so he’s no stranger to slice-of-life stories like this one. He knows which details should be present, and what these moments should feel like. His style is expressive and clear, and is full of humanity and life. I’m also very glad to see that this book was illustrated in black and white- it just seems to fit. The panels will take on the quality of old snapshots at times, like this graphic novel is a book of photos that an older relative has broken out to better explain and accompany the trip down memory lane that will soon be unleashed on the grandkids. Well, except the more explicit images. Those would be the pictures that stay hidden in cigar boxes and under the mattress, but you get the idea.

There’s so much to love here, so many parallels to draw to your own life, so many little moments that resonate, that you’ll be reflecting on this book long after you’ve put it down. Some authors prefer to tell their stories through metaphors and by using far-removed characters as their mouthpieces, and some just want to pour it all out unfiltered for all the world to see. Ames appears to fall in-between, providing us with some amusing tall tales while still leaving the veil thin enough for all the most important moments to pass through with all of their emotional impact intact. The result is a book that I can’t recommend highly enough, particularly for those who have had a few laps around the track.

The Alcoholic
Written by: Jonathan Ames
Art by: Dean Haspiel
Greytones by: Lee Loughridge
Lettering by: Pat Brosseau
Published by: DC/Vertigo

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