
Guys! This book is the bomb diggity. Like many people I have met, my first reading of
John Porcellino's Perfect Example was a disappointment, and let me tell you why. The novel is a collection of personal stories mainly concerned with time and place, being the Chicago suburbs in the nineties. I happen to have grown up in stupendously mild and homogenous north suburban town of Geneva, Illinois, and so I was excited to read this book in the hopes that Porcellino might reveal something to me about myself.
My mental process while first reading this novel went something like this.
1. This artwork is crappy.
2. These little anecdotes are cute and funny.
3. This is deeply sad, but hopeful.
4. Maybe I should make a sandwich while I read this.
5. Wait, it's over? What the hell?
After completing
Perfect Example, I sifted back through it, looking to see if I had missed something. A moral, a story arc, a bildungsroman, a climax...nothing jumped out at me. I dismissed Porcellino as a diary writer (interesting that one of his later books is titled
Diary of A Mosquito Abatement Man) and a poor impersonation of Jeffrey Brown.
Stupid, stupid, stupid! Let me tell you, folks, John Porcellino is possessed of a guileless, dare I say zen, brilliance. The familiarity of the story creeps up slowly. The more I thought about the book, I was reminded of the way I felt after my first reading of the Hemingway's
The Sun Also Rises, which seems to meander pointlessly and end carelessly. The key to that book is of course the title. Life is indeed a series of short and boring anecdotes, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing, because
although the sun can set on a perfect story, inevitably it just rises again.
That's when I began rereading
Perfect Example over and over. The way Porcellino depicts youth in the Midwest... long rides in the car, the faux counter culture of thrift clothes and mix tapes which vibrant urban life has already moved beyond, mowing the lawn while contemplating happiness... there was something perfect about it. It's all in the title. Each story of suburban midwestern living is an ephemeral and unimportant one, and yet it is the essentialization, the crystallization, of our total experience. The stories can come in any order, without discernible beginning, climax, or end, because each one is a perfect example. Not only is any story a perfect example, but there is
something humble and life-affirming to Porcellino about leading an ordinary life, about finding perfection in the routine and mundane.
So read this book, for really reals. I encourage multiple readings... unlike other ultra-sensitive memoir style graphic novels, I think you will find that it stays fresh and meaningful no matter how many times you read it. Which is why I will say, in conclusion, Porcellino kicks Jeffrey Brown's ass.
Later Gators.
-Emily