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Avg. Rating: 5
The guy we have to worry about is that skeleton-robot I made from the meat grinder when I was insane...
Wow, I'd heard of Tony Millionaire, but never seen any of his stuff until I picked this up the other day. All I can say is don't be put off by his reputation for comic book ribaldry. This is a great weird story that I'm definitely going to be reading to my as-yet-unborn child when she turns around seven or eight. Which also happens to be roughly the age of Becky, a pigtailed little girl who lives in a ramshackle mansion where she's built a strange contraption to view distant planets. Downstairs, her mother's campaign against the kitchen mice leads the little creatures to construct a kind of garbage-based golem to be their champion. When the mother counters this construct with a housecat, it is Becky who tracks the creature down, heals his wounds with honey and gives him hazelnuts for eyes and a proper name.
The ornery little creature and Becky are soon enmeshed in a series of surreal adventures, sparked by a tedious little boy named Eugene. One hesitates to reveal too much of what follows, but just to give a taste: clockwork alligator pirates, seeing-eye skunk, mad scientist, matter enlarger, Noah's Ark, a whale, a rousing sea battle, and a planetary junkyard all come into play. It's a wonderfully inventive weird story, filled with great lines. For example, Billy stands on the back of a motorized rocking horse, yelling defiance at pursuers: "I'm a barrelful of hate! Come open me up!" Or a villain coolly considers the wreckage wrought by Billy: "Hmmm... The little fellow is tougher than he looks... a regular brass cupcake!" Or my favorite line of all: "The guy we have to worry about is that skeleton-robot I made from the meat grinder when I was insane..."
This strays into some pretty dark stuff, and as one reviewer very correctly points out, follows the "marchen" (German folktale) template in many ways (marchen are typically characterized by elements of magic or the supernatural, such as the endowment of a mortal character with special powers or knowledge), and the artwork definitely fits the tone. One of the reasons I'd never checked out any of Millionaire's work before is because I just wasn't into his rather crude style of drawing. I tend to like clean, crisp work, and his stuff made me think of the Katzenjammer Kids or something like that. However, it totally works in this story. One kind of strange thing is that none of the characters have pupils, Becky has solid black eyes, and everyone else has solid white eyes, or else glasses that cover their eyes. Not sure if this is a tribute to Harold Gray (of Little Orphan Annie fame), or what, but it definitely adds to the overall mood. Some may find this is too dark or weird for their taste (although it pales in both respects next to the original Grimm stories and Dr. Suess), but don't be fooled -- it's a modern classic.
A swashbuckling good time
I read Maakies every week. I don't love it every week, but I read it every week. Sometimes it is brillant, other times the humor is weak but the art normally makes it worth checking out.
Billy Hazelnuts, however, is pure gung-ho awesomeness. The story is fast paced, bizzare, beautifully drawn and highly entertaining. If I have a complaint, it is only that it is too short (I mean that in both senses).
The story begins in the cramped mose holes of an old house but quickly balloons into an expansive world of alligator machines, crashing planets and smelling-eye skunks.
Great for children or adults. Give it a whirl.
I am a scientist, Eugene, not a starry-headed romantic.
"Billy Hazelnuts" is the sort of book one can recommend to anyone without hesitation. That is all I really need to say. But I will go further:
While Millionaire's notorious (and acclaimed!) ornate-yet-vulgar weekly strip "Maakies" may not be everyone's cup of tea for the sake of matters of propriety, I have yet to meet anyone who can encounter his wholly accessible yet equally whimsical "Sock Monkey" and not recognize genius, heart, and innovation.
Likewise, I cannot imagine "Billy Hazelnuts" will do anything less than expand Millionaire's acclaim into far wider circles, finding itself nestled on children's shelves between A. A. Milne and Peggy Parish as well as on the bedside tables of readers marked by more advanced years.
Milne's influence is clear, as is the light-hearted cheer of Mark Twain (who, along with Shakespeare, Herman Melville, and Julia Ward Howe, is thanked before the story begins). In regards to the influence of the Hundred Acre Wood and "children's literature," Millionaire has openly sung the praises of Ernest Shepard, as well as the beloved Beatrix Potter. It is therefore no surprise to feel their spirits hovering around each page. "Billy Hazelnuts" is a story in the spirit of revered children's books that never talks down to its audience or loses the interest of older readers. One would imagine this to be a difficult tightrope to walk, but Millionaire does it effortlessly again and again.
Millionaire's art and roaming story also call to mind the so-called "glory days" of comics, when the full-color escapades of Little Nemo, etc. actually drove the sales of the papers that contained them. Millionaire's work manages to feel modern while still reaching to that era, to feel self-aware yet comfortable with itself instead of ironic. It is almost as if Al Capp had decided to cut out the politics and just write about Shmoos - "Billy Hazelnuts" is engrossing and honest.
The story depicts a child scientist named Becky whose love of the starry sky leads her to build fantastic inventions in order to better view her beloved stretch of space. She resides with her mother on a farm populated by mischievous mice, and finds herself the object of a young poet's affection. But after attempting to tolerate his courting presence for the sake of her mother, she spurns the affections of said wordsmith Eugene while dealing with the mounting crisis of a maddened and misguided garbage golem named Billy who was assembled and enchanted (with little fanfare) by the mice of Becky's house. Billy's head filled with houseflies is emptied by the girl, and his new eyes become a pair of hazelnuts. Then, it's off to a rollicking and captivating adventure involving a hunt for the moon and a battle with a ship of automatons whose existence traces its roots to the spurning of Eugene.
The dialogue is classic Millionaire, as the thieving mice declare "Have you tried this 'Swiss' cheese?"&"Why, the holes are as good as the cheese." It is nigh-impossible to suppress a grin when Billy (pre-Hazelnuts) declares a housecat scratch to be the work of a "lion," and asserts "I gave him back as good as I got!" And Becky is a likeable protagonist, confronting those around her with bold cries of "meddlesome goofball" and "You sound worse than blackboards rubbing on balloons!"
The world of "Billy Hazelnuts" truly unfolds - the opening panel shows the detailed depiction of a farmhouse that makes anyone familiar with Millionaire's catalogue settle back for another "Sock Monkey"-esque romp at the turn of the century. But Millionaire has more in mind, as the talking animals familiar in his work become alchemist/warlocks and maritime warriors, and the inventions of Becky and Eugene pile impossibility upon impossibility to create a wild blend of steampunk science fiction and fairy tale magic. Perhaps most amusing to those familiar with Millionaire's work is a fellow much like the "trumbernick" of the "Sock Monkey" books, who is shown here directing the retirement of broken planets floating over a beautiful, Herriman-esque landscape.
It gets weirder, but it nevers becomes self-indulgent, never becomes obsessed with its absurdity instead of the story. The final page, recalling Volume 3, Issue #2 of "Sock Monkey" is sure to warm the heart of innocent children and informed adults as well.
More adventures of Billy and Becky would be welcome, as the core of the book is how Becky helps Billy find his true self, and in the process takes her next step of maturity. Billy is a diminutive monster whose lessons learned on temper and society never become the by-the-numbers prattle of children's morality plays, but they also keep from being the "hidden meaning," wink-to-the-reader default that keeps so many independent cartoonists from writing as openly and unironically as Millionaire.
As I said at the opening, this is a book for everyone. It is difficult to say it is among Millionaire's best, because it is hard to rank his captivating and beloved work. But this will be the book that draws an even wider legion of fans to his empire, and should certainly enthrone Millionaire among the greats of cartooning.
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