Err — except for the talking (and endlessly taunting) stones, that is.
Here’s the thing, though — despite how things sound to this point, this comic isn’t all doom and gloom. There are mysteries lurking within it (what those annoying stones symbolize is entirely up to your own independent analysis), sure, but there’s also a deeply existential streak of absurdist humor that runs throughout (and just underneath) the narrative here, one that is as much felt as it is seen, and the “dual track” first-person narration Kandevica employs (see artwork examples) effectively approximates what amounts to a “split-screen” effect between words and pictures, meaning this is a comic where both elements work together in concert and separately. It’s weird, but it’s both effective and affecting — and that’s really not the worst summation of the book itself, either, now that I come to think of it.
For all that, though, you can’t help but have some sympathy for the poor sap at the center of this tale of self-induced woe. We’ve all been stuck in some ruts in our lives, and to one degree or another most of us have some going right now (got a job? Then I’m referring to you). Escape might not be easy, and in some cases might not even be preferable, but Kandevica reminds us that it’s an option, whether we can see it or not. She’s constructed a story about a solitary and isolated individual that somehow, go figure, speaks to the concerns, even fears, of just about everyone. Whatever she’s serving time for, I say let her off for good behavior.