Local

You are Megan McKennan, and Megan is you.

She’s me too. Don’t worry. Which is to say that Local travels a few steps beyond navel-gazing and into filthy-rotten-stuffed-with-lint-navel-gazing territory. I mean that in a good way. “Plot” seems far less important than character here, and that’s why our “heroine” is the kind of girl that you inevitably wind up shouting at the comic page about. If she were in a horror film, she’d let the killer inside her locked house without a second thought, then probably help him find the meat cleaver.

But don’t we all assist subconsciously in our own demise, at times? And I don’t suggest that in the grand, noble, vainglorious sense, like Springsteen circa Born To Run. There are quiet ways in which we fail every day, every hour, every minute. We cut someone off in the carpool lane; we lie to our spouse about her ass in those pants; we date the wrong people and skip out on leases and try to buy drugs for our boyfriends.

We’re weak. We’re flimsy. So is Megan. Watching her stumble into ugly situations, and fail herself again and again, makes for great fiction.

I don’t know if I’m doing Local justice; it’s a pretty special series, and unique in that you can pick up pretty much any issue and get something out of it. They’re all done-in-one stories, but the tapestry of the whole is compelling enough that I recommend picking up every issue and experiencing Megan’s trials and tribulations for yourself. She’s you, and she’s me, and she never stops failing, and it’s fascinating to behold.