“Don’t trust the map.”

There are people out there who had a profound impact on my life, some in my personal life, some in the ether-space of the greater world.  Humphrey Bogart was an early model of manhood for young me.  Vincent Price introduced me to the joy that can be found in the macabre.  Madeleine L’Engle showed me the wonder of breaking open the brain and allowing it to reform in new ways.  Gene Roddenberry and Co. did more to teach me about morality than eighteen years of attending mass or nine years attending Catholic school.  But Jim Henson.  What can I say about Jim Henson?  Grunge had Burroughs, Kerouac, and Ginsberg. The Beats had Thoreau, Melville, and Whitman.  I had Jim Henson.

Tale of Sand is a graphic novel by Ramón K. Pérez that uses a lost screenplay by Henson and his longtime writing partner Jerry Juhl.  I assume it was meant to be another experimental short film, as it was apparently written around the time they were making those, in the days before Sesame St. and The Muppet Show.  It is not, as a lot of his later material would be, aimed at children.  But then, one of Henson’s strengths was that even when making material meant for children, he was not condescending and treated his audience with respect.  That’s one of the reasons that I find much of his work to still be wildly entertaining as a childless adult, rapidly passing through middle age.

So, what is it?  It’s a sort of surrealistic journey through a chaotic landscape of some nameless desert.  As far as what it means, I don’t know.  I suppose that’s part of the point of surrealism, if not art generally.  You bring to it as much as is left by the artists, so what it means is what it means to you.  I took from Tale of Sand several ideas.  On the one hand, it feels like a glimpse into the confusing frustration of being a man.  One day, everyone expects you to do the job of being a man, but nobody tells you what that job is, how to do it, or even how to find out what it is. Add to this a sense that people are watching and keeping score, but refuse to tell you the rules.  All with the specter of violence hanging over your head.  There’s nowhere to turn and nobody seems willing or able to give you any useful advice.  Or worse are the people who will give you plenty of advice, but they’ve hardly got your best interests at heart.  Ultimately, all your efforts and blind struggle don’t seem to amount to anything, so you’re left broken, ashamed, guilt-ridden, and angry, and you still don’t have any answers.  On the other hand, it feels like navigating post-War America, with all its excitement and chaos, and hollow pursuits.  A land dominated by Hollywood artificiality, where everyone is out for themselves, and to make a quick buck. In this aspect, it would serve as some good reading to go along with a watch of Mad Men.  According to Lisa Henson in the afterword of the book, it’s a reflection of young Jim Henson’s experience as a creative, trying to start a career.  That tracks, too.

The art by Ramón K. Pérez is gorgeous, which is good, because there’s not a ton of dialogue.  It’s a very visual story, which is one of the things comics can do so well (when not being written by Stan Lee…Zing!).  There’s a lot of imagery and references that should tickle the fancy of fans of old movies or just general aspects of mid-20th Century life.  Even our lead looks like a combination of Jack Kerouac and young Henson, one of those lost and disillusioned youths of the post-War years.

Adult fans of Jim Henson and fans of comics generally, should find plenty to enjoy in this.

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