A review of

676 Apparitions of Killoffer

by Killoffer

Central question: What happens when, upon self-reflection, you see someone else?
Format: 46 pp., paperback; Size: 9" x 14"; Price: $25.95; Publisher: Typocrat Press; Author is member of: legendary artist-run Parisian publishing company L’Association (along with David B., J. C. Menu, Lewis Trondheim, and others); Author cofounded: Oubapo (Ouvroir de Bande Dessinées Potentielles; the comics version of Oulipo); Number of times Killoffer is drawn in the book (including the two Killoffers fighting across the front and back cover: 676; Representative sentence: “Knowing how I am, I bet I’ll leave another experiment behind me when I go—a small piece of me, fermenting.”

Killoffer has decided that it’s time for something different. In the vaguely autobiographical Six Hundred and Seventy-Six Apparitions, the author becomes a character in his own story, abandoning his prior life as a Parisian cartoonist and incidental epicurean, shuffling off to Montreal, desperately seeking something. Struck pensive by a sink-and-a-half full of long-ignored dirty dishes, he wonders what could’ve and might’ve and should’ve been, whether ’twas nobler to suffer outrageous fungus, or to take arms with a squad of scrubbing bubbles. Each of the author’s roads not taken finds another, a hydra of intention, eventually assuming physical manifestation. Perhaps there was some unfinished dessert in that mélange of china and stainless steel, a piece of uninspiring madeleine.

Knocked down by revelation, Killoffer gets up again, oblivious to what’s happening as he goes about his business, leaving behind these golems of squandered possibility. Sitting at the end of a bar, with a drink and a smoke and a book, Killoffer settles in for an inconspicuous evening. But at the same time, he’s gearing up to paint the town blood-red, tossing punches at the bouncer, or dragging a woman he just met off to the toilets for a quick one. We’ve all wondered “what if…?” but Killoffer knows—instinctively, at least. In a series of infinite options, he never chooses.

We hope you enjoy this excerpt.

To read the full piece, please contact us to purchase a copy of the magazine.

—Chris Tamarri

Chris Tamarri is a freelance writer living in South Jersey. He’s writing a graphic novel, something on prime numbers.

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