Michael Ogilvie's Hugs: Bloodpond is a very strange book indeed, which came out in January but showed up in my review pile a couple of weeks ago. 

It's a 36-page hardback, which pretty much marks it out as an art object rather than a commercial product.  But that's fine, because a comic as weird as this plainly can't have any designs on mass appeal.

Very loosely, this is a sequel to a pamphlet called Hugs: Thoughtlead which was along similarly bizarre lines.  Both books feature a gormless yet loveable-looking bear, presumably the titular Hugs.  He meanders through surreal and inexplicable events, not really reacting in any particular way.  Each page is divided into two panels.  There's no dialogue as such, although Bloodpond does have some speeches and quotes integrated into the artwork.  Sometimes it's the background to a whole panel, sometimes it's barely perceptible.  But whatever it is, the title character remains seemingly oblivious.

The plot, if you want to call it that, involves Hugs accidentally beheading a small dog, whose partner (?) sets out for revenge on him, only to find that the afterlife is not nearly unpleasant enough for revenge puposes.  So he tries to get his nemesis moved first to hell, and then back to life. 

Now, that makes it all sound a lot more rational than it really is.  This book is way off on the experimental fringe, and the narrative is practically stream of consciousness surrealism, loosely held together by the thinnest semblance of plot.  It all builds to a climax of supreme impenetrability.

Obviously, there's a very narrow audience for this sort of thing.  But for readers who are open to this sort of thing, there's certainly something very engaging about it.

It's not an especially easy read.  The low panel count, plus the sheer oddity of the events being depicted, make it rather hard to follow on a first read through.  Yet it still works, even if that's sometimes on the level of a puzzle for readers to decipher.  And the effort is repaid, because the book does have a darkly absurd sense of humour.

Visually, it's remarkably odd stuff.  Hugs seems to have wandered off the front of a Hallmark card, and the art surrounds him with a mixture of cartoons, abstraction, text and Francis Bacon paintings.  Everything about it feels like a bizarre lurch into the creator's subconscious.  It couldn't be further removed from any of the standard storytelling conventions, of any genre.

Taken on its own terms, it's an artistic success.  Whether that means many people will want to read it is another matter, and I suspect the natural outlet for this sort of work is the bookshops of modern art galleries.  Even for that audience, the twelve dollar price tag is pushing it - and it's the main factor that pushes the rating down into the Bs, by the way, because if it had a more standard price tag for a 36-page book, I'd be recommending it much more strongly for those with an interest in experimental comics. 

But it's certainly got an original voice, albeit an absolutely insane one, and that goes a long way.

Rating: B+

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