Identity Cleared of Beard-Ripping
Stefan Neville and Clayton Noone
Reviewed by Darren Hick

Do you ever wonder to yourself, "Am I just a magnet for crazy street-people?" Ever get on a bus and know -- at the core of your bones, know -- that the single person babbling incoherently to himself at the back of the bus will eventually find his way up to the seat adjoining yours sometime before you reach your stop?

I don't know about you, but I've always found the same feeling down at the base of my spine when I know one of the crazies has me in his eye. And that same feeling stuck with me through the entire reading of Identity Cleared of Beard-Ripping. Uneasy. Paranoid. A little nautious.

A collection of "City of Tales" pages, ICoBR is sketchy, sloppy and thoroughly unapologetic. Take that as you may.

I have to applaud Noone & Neville's idea: a book of scratchy non-sequiturs which, in sequence, so powerfully mimics the atmosphere of the babbling nut on the corner. Seemingly incoherent rambling, the "City of Tales" stories collect, obstensibly, true recollections and eavesdropping of people on the street. And yes, most of them are "street people." And most of those are perverts. I have to applaud Noone and Neville because they fulfill one of the primary qualities I look for in art: that it make me feel something I wasn't feeling before reading the book, as a direct result of the story. There's no question that ICoBR does just that. It makes me feel like a need a bath. So, congratulations, boys.

On the other hand, why anyone would want to feel that way, I can't quite imagine. That itchy feeling I get from this work is the result of a number of factors: First, as I say, is the incoherent, intrusive babbling that so fully encompasses the writing. Never before has a book managed to so willfully intrude upon my personal space. Second is the art. Sketchy and uneven, I don't think I could go so far as to call it "good art." Filled with sloppy inkwork and sophomoric character designs, ICoBR is anything but well-drawn. There is, however, something intriguing about the design sense. I wouldn't call it "appealing," but it blends exceedingly well with the tone of the writing. It makes me uncomfortable. I don't like looking at it. Now, it becomes obvious, for those who look, that the artist (and, y'know, I'm never sure if that's Noone or Neville, as it's never stated in the book) is, indeed, skilled. The backgrounds are, at times, thoroughly impressive. And the artist showcases some burgeoning collage skill. What this means is he's likely doing this messy, angst-filled slop on purpose.

If I were to resort to an Intentionalist argument (something I typically avoid), I would have to call ICoBR a success. I didn't enjoy it in the least. I wanted to put it down after every page. And, I imagine, this is very much the feeling the creators wanted me to feel. Congrats, boys -- you've succeeded -- I don't want to see any more.

(Of course, I got a second dose of "City of Tales" in Radio-Active Paranoid.)

Radio-Active Paranoid has no price on it. You should probably contact Stefan Neville at stfnnvll@hotmail.com or P.O. Box 1320, Dunedin, New Zealand. Alternatively, consider dropping by www.fink.net.nz or www.freeyellow.com/members3/oatz/.