This is from Page 45’s mailshot, out today:

 

b r e a k i n g   n e w s

 

As in, I'm breaking it here:

 

I mentioned a month or so ago that members of Page 45's Comicbook Of
The Month would be in for a bit of a surprise whenever they come to
read the endpapers of Bryan Talbot's GRANDVILLE in October.

 

See, Bryan and I like to have the odd drink together, and it was three
or so years ago in Bristol - after Jeffrey Brown had clearly looked
after me at the Top Shelf booth while Chris Staros waltzed off to Alan
Moore's wedding - that Bryan showed me the proofs of this spectacular
new book. It was the work of his latest discovery, Véronique Tanaka,
which he had agreed to become her agent for, called METRONOME.

 

I loved it so much that I went on to promote the animated version then
the book, and Bryan and I even chatted about it in the interview we did
together to promote ALICE IN SUNDERLAND.

 

But the thing is... ummm... we lied?

 

Because after I'd read the proof while Bryan quietly drank his pint,
after I'd declared it a magnificent composition, completely different
from anything else I'd read in comics... Bryan came out of the closet.
Véronique Tanaka is Bryan Talbot, and we decided to have some fun.

 

Now for the record, I did not make METRONOME Page 45's Comicbook Of The
Month. Tom did, and he did it with no knowledge of the book's true
provenance because he knows a great work when he sees it. Tom,
remember, was also solely responsible for choosing SOLANIN. I only told
Tom when Bryan sent us the GRANDVILLE files last month because I'd been
sworn to secrecy, and I apologised profusely. But yes, I did write the
review. It's still available here at its original price, so here's that
review again, after which I've asked Bryan to say a few words...

 

Metronome h/c (£8-99, NBM) by Véronique Tanaka/Bryan Talbot, introduction by Jeff Smith. Can you say "ligne claire"?

A room. A man. A fan.

A fly on the wall.

The seconds tick by on a metronome.

Viscous fluid rises in the lava lamp; coffee drips to the floor.

There is a photograph of a woman sitting on the piano.

What happened?

This is, I swear to you, like nothing else you will ever have read, and
I've just found a 2007 Lucca Festival interview with Veronique Tanaka
online in Italian and English. The 17-minute flash-animated version is
still available to view here, and unless the code's been changed you
can view it for free by typing 04545 into the box that says "I've
already paid". You will be mesmerised - and I choose my past participle
very carefully. When I first saw it, I wrote, "It's like the pumping of
your heart:so demanding, almost threatening, yet totally compelling. It
plays with your desires, your expectations, your aspirations, your
delectations... yet half-way through the heartbeat loses its echo, and
what was once reflected is reduced to a staccato, violent insistence.
As a graphic novel, it will be awesome, but as a piece of multimedia
animation (for that's what it is online - not comics - with each frame
replacing the other) it's haunting, harrowing, and enough to make you
want to hit someone. Hard. Take that appalling irony as you will - it's
the gut-felt truth."

This is the graphic novel. As a square, 16-panel paged graphic novel (4
panels wide, 4 panels deep) it remains equally disciplined, but becomes
something else as panels combine to form larger ones, and you're given
time to interpret them, to join the dots. But that's your job, not mine.

“About eight years ago, after reading a short story, La Plage by Alain
Robbe-Grillet. It is an existentialist piece of writing. It is no
story. Some children walk along a beach. They leave footprints in the
sand. Seagulls fly off when they get near, fly about and land in front
of them. A church bell is tolling in the distance. That's it. They
walk, waves come in, the birds fly off, the bell rings. Each thing
repeats. It is as if the moment is going on for ever. It is frozen in
time and also taken out of time to exist in its own space. But the
atmosphere is fantastic. It made me start to think of a story that
could be told in repeated images. Images that at first seem random but
all gain significance as the pages turn.”

It's a shame you never came to sign here, as I suggested at the time,
in high heels, wig and lipstick. But it's never too late if you
fancy...?

 

Naah. I’d be a real dog!