The Hipless Boy

The Hipless Boy is a collection of short stories in graphic novel format – the first graphic novel from Sully, a.k.a. Sherwin Tjia, who first penned The Hipless Boy as a McGill Daily cartoonist two years ago. With two poetry collections (one of which was a finalist for the Quebec Writers Federation’s A.M. Klein Poetry Award), two comic strip collections, and an illustration credit on two children’s poetry books under his belt, it’s clear that the ball is just beginning to roll for the Torontonian-turned-Montrealer.

The Hipless Boy is a little bit more silly and sexy – and a lot less pretentious – than many other graphic novels, and for that it should be applauded. The art is clean, and all in black, white, and blue, and the plots are even-paced without being too busy or too slow. Sully’s skill as a writer as well as an artist is evident in every frame. It takes unique talent to discuss organizing a strip spelling bee, bowel movements as a mode of revenge, and suicide, all without losing the reader.

The cast is simple but unforgettable – they’re all people you feel like you’ve met before. There’s Sully, a hipless boy living in a hipster neighbourhood, and Minerva, who is described as “a semi-bisexual private school dropout.” There’s also Owen, Sully’s art-student friend who is always looking for new ways to offend, such as by creating a swastika-shaped dildo: “I’ll make a silicone Swasticock™ sex toy that four people can penetrate themselves with at the same time! Then take photos!”

The format alternates page-long short stories paired with a page-long illustration with longer and more traditionally styled comics. The stories are somewhat interlinked and chronological, and while the style leaves a few loose ends, they should go unnoticed by the casual reader.

Unfortunately, The Hipless Boy’s greatest asset might also be its most problematic, at least if it wants to break into a wider audience. Montreal seeps from every frame, which is fantastic and charming if you happen to live here, but could be problematic for non-residents who might not be able to enjoy the subtle nuances of a certain intersection, staircase, or sculpture. The characters are more accessible, since nearly everyone knows an eccentric artist or two, but nevertheless leave the feeling that they need more of an introduction than the one provided on the tequila-sunrise-coloured back cover.

The other problem is that, despite the lack of what could conventionally be called a plot, The Hipless Boy wraps up with a “what’s happened to our heroes” section that effectively closes most of the potential future intrigue surrounding any of the characters. Admittedly, the characters are based on real people, and as a result it’s understandable that there are some loose ends and unexplained events that can only be clarified by turning to the engaging line-notes. But because those same characters are based on real people, cutting off the potential for slowly and hilariously revealing their future exploits in future books is disappointing.

This article first appeared in The McGill Tribune, 09/22/09.