Graphic Update: My Year With Preacher

No one ever says, "I want to read a graphic novel series AND have one of the worst years of their lives." But here we are.

When I started this writing endeavor, I had to take into account the subjects that I’d write on would be topics most people have already read about. A lot has to be thrown out the window when writing about pop-culture [or sub-pop-culture], because there is an “assumed knowledge” when writing about topics not-so-niche.

The best angle to take is to personalize the topic. How does the subject matter relate to you? Or...myself in this case. Real Dr. Phil-like. So, when you read the title “My Year With Preacher” it wasn’t so much a review of the graphic novel, but a review of my time spent with it.

Thumbing through the nine collected books of Garth Ennis’ most famous work -- I’d be lying if I didn’t say that this book was around for a great deal of personal growth and minor tragedy. So, my intention is to clue you in on what most [high-paid] reviewers aren’t supposed to do. I’m going to illustrate why my review is biased.

 
Though I had issues with how Preacher depicted graphic acts for graphic sake the wit in the writing is unmatched.
It took me over a year to read Preacher. Which isn’t a comment on the complexities covered in the book, but worth noting. Within this time I lost a job, thousands of dollars to taxes, a three-year relationship and endured a bit familial turmoil. So when a reviewer has to make an outline for an article, such as this one you’re reading, they look back at the books. They work hard on fleshing out the key points, so that nothing is glossed over. A good reviewer will trim the fat and pick out what made the biggest impression; good or bad.

Imagine me doing this, but instead of looking at the first book, “Gone To Texas” and seeing a fresh faced Jesse Custer being blessed with the voice of God, Genesis -- I see a naked ex-lover lying on my bed, voraciously reading through said segment. Looking at book three, “Proud Americans”, it’s hard to detach the story of Jesse and his girlfriend Tulip, and their adventure to save their odd pal Cassidy, while not thinking about the day I got dumped.

There are many curses that comes from having a photographic memory. You sleep little and don’t notice it until your bones and eyes begin to ache. Remembering events becomes easier when vivid imagery serves as footnotes, but sometimes you remember them out of order [chronologic memory is different and a lot more helpful]. Usually those with photographic memories have bouts with depression and narcolepsy. The brain functions as a 'leaky faucet' always rerunning images. Now I'm not saying I have a photographic memory, but thanks to this review [of sorts] I'd argue that I'm on the cusp.

There is nothing worse then coming to the realization that: A) A great relationship is going to have to end and B) It aint gonna be pretty.
I don’t remember when [exactly] my mom called me crying about a close family member going to prison for a very long time, but I do remember my tears splattering across the pages where Cassidy decides to make a flirtatious advance on a key character. I remember turning that page, brow-furrowed wanting the words of Ennis to transport me into this world. This world where sexually amorous angels and demons produce offspring. God doesn’t listen, because us humans are, like, way too much of a downer. You’ll have to excuse me if book four, “Dixie Fried”, wasn’t my favorite -- I was dealing with a lot.

Weeks after having my identity stolen and unceremoniously ending a relationship, it became harder and harder to read Preacher. “Dixie Fried” was a tough read given the subject matter. It was the first hint of a test between Cassidy & Jesse’s ‘match made in heaven’ friendship leading to an eventual major flaw.

With every chapter there was a life set back. When I made it to book five, “War In The Sun,” I got my walking papers from a job I worked at for over three years. It goes without saying, reading about Custer’s nemesis, Herr Starr as they’d take on an un-killible entity [Saint of All Killers] was both low on my list of priorities, yet completely apt for the time. If you’re going to embark on a new journey, you’d better bring plenty of ammo.

The Saint of All Killers represented this event in every ones life. Be it death, marriage, paying the rent, or in my case: admitting to being emotionally unavailable. If you don’t have the stones to deal with it, as more time passes, The Saint will, eventually, catch up with you and make it mandatory. He’s actually pretty cool once you get to know him.

Solid remedy for depression isn't so much reading an even more depressing tale [which there are plenty of in the collected books of Preacher], but taking in the incredibly detailed covers of Glenn Fabry. There were many days during my dark period where I just thumbed through the pages just to see his work.
Then nothing. I couldn’t touch Preacher for months. I went out of my way to buy tons of other books and graphic novels to stack atop something that, aside from my personal griefs, was beginning to drag and eat its own tail. Seriously, if I read about Jesse and Tulip splitting up and coming back together again, I was going to throw book seven out the window.

Reading a book like Preacher to combat depression seems almost too incongruous, when comparing it to the very text it’s so masterfully taking to task, the Bible. Both books seem almost hell bent on proving their worth to you. The Bible is clearly a text meant to be a companion piece for a soldier going off to war. Preacher reads as a harsh reminder that in love and war, god cannot save you. As a matter of fact, in those two specific instances he [or she] would opt not to.

Picking up the pieces and trying to make sense of my life and where it stood last year -- meant looking in the mirror and not-so-much fixing the problems I had, but figuring out a plan. The unfortunate draw back of Preacher is that, at times, it’s a mature novel. Other times it wears it’s maturity on its sleeve. A head sliced in the shape of penis. Constant references to anal sex and other very ‘grown up acts’ mature people partake in. Reading this and trying to focus on my own manners of maturity naturally conflicted, well, sometimes.

I’m no spring chicken, well, in the regard of reading graphic novels. Consider me fashionably early to the party in regards to Preacher. I do have issues with a novel that depicts graphic acts of sex and violence -- just because it can. For the most part, Ennis and Dillon work well together in delivering a message that is unique and worth reading. It’s those coke-induced, underaged sex-orgies that occasionally muddle the message.

 

When I trudged through “Salvation” I was already knee deep in several new relationship mistakes. I was eating unhealthy and losing and gaining weight to the point where I was under a nutrition health watch. Yeah, I didn’t know those existed either. I was becoming reclusive and when I went outdoors my motives where clouded [to say the least]. My work life had changed so rapidly, that I actually considered throwing away all my hobbies and becoming what I feared most -- a drone. Go home to your one plate of Spaghetti-Os and pornography and set the alarm, because you’ll be doing it again tomorrow.

Jesse Custer was thought to be dead at this point in the series. He lost everything and had the ability to start over in a small town [Salvation, Texas]. He rediscovered what family meant to him. Wow, this sounds [and reads] so powerfully sappy, but so did I. I can’t definitively tie the two moments together, but around this time, I started dancing again. I began helping my friends and just in general -- caring more. I started refilling my life with what I thought it was missing. At the time I thought this was the need to feel love from another. I later found out that, I just needed to look at the hefty amount of feet prints in the sand [nope, THAT’S the sappiest thing I’ve ever written].

The relationship between Jesse and Tulip was, at times, nonsensical and far-reaching -- so pretty true to life.The final book, “The Alamo” was finished a couple weeks ago. I sat on a park bench and read it by myself. It was Easter Sunday and that made me snicker a bit. I called my mom just so I could hear her and my sister laugh. It was warm, the weather and the feeling. Though the climatic ending of Preacher was mostly satisfying, Jesse Custer spent a lot of time in the book doing what he thought was right. A lot of it he got wrong. I feel Ennis slapped on the relationship epilogue, because he wanted the reader to fill emotionally fulfilled, it wasn’t necessary, but it worked.

It took me over a year to finish Preacher. I’ll revisit and invest in the spin-offs when time permits. When I slide these books back on to the shelf, I will remember the journey I took while reading. I will regret no mistakes, but learn from them. I will not try and forget the dark periods, because I think they were necessary for my enjoyment of this book. Here’s hoping the next graphic novel series won’t be as gut-wrenching to get through. And Christ, drawing Arseface had to have been a pain.

Thanks for reading and apologies for the long-windedness.