Thanks to the generosity of John Jakala, I read the two-volume horror series Tomie, by manga creator Junji Ito, this week. To quote Lost Highway, “that is some seriously spooky shit, sir.” The very concept–human being as tumor–is one familiar to any fan of Anglosphere body horror–Cronenberg and Barker, for example. But here, it’s pursued with a mad capriciousness, fusing the tumor metaphor with the viral metaphor to produce something truly terrifying and seemingly everlasting. The imagery is as strong as you’re likely to come across in a comic; the carpet that gives birth to a horde of empty-socketed faces is a favorite of mine.
However, I wonder if I didn’t stumble across a big obstacle to the effectiveness of comic-book horror, something we’ve been talking about around these parts for ages: Later that night, as I lay me down to sleep, some of those horrifying images started filtering into my mind again. This tends to happen when I watch or read something really frightening–but unlike those peskily persistent pictures of the Shining twins or It‘s evil clown Pennywise, these mental images appeared complete with panel borders and folded-back page edges, as though I was looking not at the image itself (the “real thing”), but the book itself! It’s hard to be truly kept up at night by the recurring image of ink on a bunch of pieces of paper…