SNAKE PIT 2007/SNAKE PIT 2008 by Ben Snakepit

Microcosm Publishing, 96 pages, paperback, $5.00 (ea.)

Autobiographical comics in the vain of Snake Pit are often hit or miss for me, and, to be honest, after my first read, I was ready to tear into author Ben Snakepit for producing one of the most lazy, uninspired entries into the genre in quite some time. And with good reason. Snake Pit isn’t well drawn or intelligently thought out. It isn’t insightful or exciting. Besides Ben and his girlfriend, none of the characters are memorable. The locations and activities often stay the same from day to day. Hell, if you created a drinking game in which you took a swig of whiskey every time the titular character smoked weed, you’d be dead halfway into book one. The comic snob in me wanted to burn this book as soon as I got it in the mail. And yeah, I know that there are people out there who love Snake Pit for its “punk rock realism.” Those people can eat all the dicks, honestly and truly.

I’ve mellowed considerably since that first reading, so I’m dropping the pretense in favor of a heart-to-heart.

Here’s the thing: I like Snakepit. Not the comic, but the guy. I’ve never met him, but I feel like I know him because of the isolated, simple, and low-key nature of the world he’s built. It feels real, even though it can’t possibly be. And Ben’s comic book avatar gives the impression that the author is laid back and genuinely good, despite his obvious flaws (drunkenness, quick temper, etc.). I really enjoy the fact that he gives each daily strip its own soundtrack and I like that he’s in several bands. In general, I like knowing that a man like Ben Snakepit is out there, just living his life. But make no mistake — this comic series has a lot of fat to trim.

For example, Ben’s girlfriend usually cooks him a delicious dinner every night, after which he feels fat. This scenario plays out too many times over the two books, and I don’t recall Ben ever really describing the food in any way. I just know that she made it and he eats it. Everything happens as if his life is one extended laundry list which, if actually true, would be legitimate grounds for suicide. Smoked weed? Check! Played drums? Check? Went to work? Check! I’m not looking for James Kochalka levels of insight, but at the very least give me something beyond “it sucked” or “it ruled” if you want me to stick around. It’s simply not enough.

And that’s the greatest shame, since Ben Snakepit is a cool guy and his life probably does kick all kinds of ass. But the best I can say is that “Snake Pit: The Comic” is a series of small victories. I just wish “Snakepit: The Artist” was more ambitious.