There are moments when it seems as if Daniel Clowes is playing chicken in this graphic novel: How nasty, how bitter and angry and petty and rude can he make this character and still leave you connected to him by a tiny umbilical cord of empathy? Wilson is a useless middle-aged man with no significant emotional connections, and he is willing to say things that no sane person would say but that every sane person thinks in order to stay sane. The knife edge feels all the keener because the story is told in one-page strips reminiscent of the Sunday comics at times the art is Schulzian in it simplicity, which casts the adult themes in high relief.