As Crumb admits in his introduction, sweet isn't what his work seems to be. Furthermore, he opines in so many words, sweetness is for gals. So, is this album of one-panel and one-page comics and many freestanding drawings somehow "Crumb for the ladies"? Well, none of Crumb's trademark raunch is on view; the closest he comes is a reminiscence of his then-preschooler daughter's curiosity about "poop." But Crumb remains in love with carnality. What he draws has weight, and what he admires he draws even heavier. Surely the girl-jock high-school classmates he lovingly recalls didn't have legs quite that massive; they were teenagers, after all. Such drawing doesn't have much of the delicacy considered especially appealing to women. It does have particularity (does this guy know shading or what?), which gives each portrait of an old or (seldom) new entertainer, each view of a favorite forest pathway, each rendering of a fantastic bit of French medieval architecture, visual tangibility. And it has affection, which is sweet, no? But not just for ladies. ( )