Following up a really awesome idea is tough. Say, for example, that
you went to high school with noted serial killer Jeffrey Dahmer, and
later turned that life experience into an award-winning graphic novel (My Friend Dahmer, still available), you might find it difficult to get a follow-up that would have as much impact.
The
fact that you worked on a garbage truck for a while when a young man,
might, perhaps, have some possibilities for fictionalization, but it's
not going to have the pop of "yeah, my high school buddy ended up
killing and eating several people, can you believe it?"
None of that is John Backderf's fault --
in fact, he had one compelling story handed to him by life and treated
it brilliantly -- but it's the kind of thing that can lead to oddly
uncomfortable conversations with one's publisher. ("So, Mr. Derf...do
you know any other serial killers for your follow-up?") But it all does lead into Trashed, which is a more conventional graphic novel, and one that doesn't have the newsworthy hook of Backderf's last.
(By
the way: the man's name is John Backderf. He had a long-running
alternative weekly cartoon -- back when those and the papers they ran in
were both things -- under the name Derf. And now that he's creating
book-shaped objects, he's using the portmanteau credit Derf Backderf. He
may be trying to pull a Johnny Cougar, and if so I wish him luck on the
journey to his own personal Mellencamp. But "Derf Backderf" is a deeply
unlovely name to work under. It sounds like the sound effect for
something unpleasant on an Adult Swim cartoon.)
Trashed is
not Derf's story; it is fiction, and focuses on a young man named J.B.
[1] in the present day, in a smallish town somewhere full of blue-collar
white people. (Like Backderf's own garbage-picking career, this is
somewhere in Ohio.) Young J.B. starts out at the bottom of the
trash-collection totem pole in this town -- giving Backderf an
opportunity to showcase some carefully observed understanding of the
hierarchies of small-town, semi-political organizations. But J.B. rises
somewhat in the ranks over the course of the next year, mostly by being
reasonably competent in doing his job and surviving when others flake
out or quit around him. The book is organized around the four seasons,
which all are horrible for the trash-collection men for various
different reasons, and Backderf lovingly gets into the muck and mire of
this job. Trashed is one book that everyone can be very happy is not available in scratch-and-sniff form.
Along
the way, Backderf explains the American way of disposal, which is
deeply flawed: done cheaply and half-assed, with toxic leakage almost
guaranteed, even with "modern" landfills with their fancy plastic
linings and gas-venting systems. This book may make you seriously check
out how close landfills are to your home (or water source) and the most
likely directions of any leaks -- or turn you into a zealot for reducing
packaging, but I'd bet the former more often.
The
fictional story is fairly thin: it's all around the trash crew, both
their mild interpersonal conflicts and the slightly more serious issues
with their town-level overlords. It all comes out OK in the end, not due
to anything we actually see on the page or that J.B. does -- Backderf
might say that this is realistic, and how workplace conflicts usually
end. That's true, but it's not a great argument for making choices for a
fictional work. But, if you don't mind a thin Horatio Alger garbageman
story wrapped around the stinking fish of your lesson on modern garbage
handling, Trashed gets the job done.
[1] Yes, those initials are very similar to the author's. One presumes this is deliberate.
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