Yep, Harvey Pekar's still my hero. ( )

One might wish that this history was a little more Cleveland and a little less Pekar-- the autobiographical details will often be familiar to anyone who's read previous Pekar works. But then I supposed it wouldn't be a Pekar book. I'm not from Cleveland, but my wife is, and I am from Cincinnati, so I enjoyed this take on the city's history. Pekar's affection for his oft-mocked home city really shines through, and it's a good (if slight) read.

Yes, I'm from Cleveland -- and therefore I am entitled to love it and grouse about it at the same time. I was born there in 1960, some years after Pekar, and so far as I know we never met. Still, as a kid, I used to buy copies of his American Splendor Comics at Coventry Books, and I've followed his career ever since, including the biopic starring Paul Giamatti. Pekar's posthumous production, brilliantly brought to life by Joseph Remnant, aims to do for Cleveland what Joyce did for Dublin. Of course, being Pekar, he never quite gets there, and you realize somewhere along the way that one story will just always lead to another, blotting out the larger picture like a blizzard's worth of 'lake effect' snow. And that's, so very -- well, so very Cleveland. ( )

This is the kind of love letter you would expect from your Jewish mother, I think - full of fondness, but also a clear perspective on how far Cleveland has fallen from its prime and how unclear the future of the city is. As a Cleveland native, there were parts of this book that seemed pulled directly out of the "Cleveland" entry in my brain - discursive bits of the city's history and pastiches of Cleveland attitude all wrapped up in some crank and gratitude. If you have feelings about the city, I think you'll enjoy this, but I'm not sure how it would play for those unfamiliar with the place. ( )

Same old Pekar. Whenever he referenced R. Crumb as an example of how hip his old neighborhood was in the 1960s, I could only snicker in derision. ( )