
I feel like Steve Martin’s character in the movie The Jerk where he dances for joy at the gas station loudly proclaiming to all within earshot, “The new phone book is here! The new phone book is here!”

I feel like Steve Martin’s character in the movie The Jerk where he dances for joy at the gas station loudly proclaiming to all within earshot, “The new phone book is here! The new phone book is here!”

At the beginning of Minis Monday’s Second Season a month ago, I lamented the fact that I didn’t get to meet nearly enough of the new-to-me cartoonists at the most recent Maine Comics Arts Festival, let alone gather their wares. Naturally since then I’ve been doing nothing but reviewing the work of new-to-me cartoonists.

One is not often introduced to a young cartoonist the way I was introduced to Eric Baker. At the most recent Maine Comics Arts Festival, I picked up no fewer than five comics of his, each in a different format with different designs, styles and intents.

Judging by his contributions to the group’s serialized anthology Inbound, Mazur is a member in good standing of the Boston Comics Roundtable.
Many an installment of this column has opened with an acknowledgment of the Maine Comics Festival in exposing me to a mini, handmade, self-published or small-batch comic. In truth, more posts could have begun the same way. The convention in Portland remains the font of funnybooks that sustains and refreshes Minis Monday.

Peter Bagge’s very first Hate Annual back in 2001 had an eight-page Buddy Bradley story, another seven-pager introducing the character Lovey and three pages of comics in which Johnny Ryan didn’t “get” the first Matrix movie.

As was the case last week, “Minis Monday” is again something of a misrepresentation. There’s nothing mini about Volume 1 of Breakfast at Mimi’s, Marek Bennett’s self-published compilation of his strip Mimi’s Doughnuts.

Uneasy Happiness presents an eminently accessible idea. Conceptually it’s loaded with entry points and hooks for would-be commentators. It’s easy to describe. The Little Nothings books are diaries of one-page strips in which Trondheim offers his reflections, sometimes developed, sometimes not, on moments of his daily life.
This time around the “minis” designation of “Minis Monday” is more inelegant than usual. Instead we have a book, volume one of Ragbox. It contains the first three chapters of what is announced to be— and convincingly begun as—a far-reaching tale of an urban neighborhood as experienced by two young siblings.