3 out of 5

There’s a pretty easy jab to make up front: that this comic book autobiography from editor Shelly Bond, mainstay / major force in the 90s / early 00s comic scene, could do with some better editing. Covering, roughly, Bond’s time leading up to and then covering her years with DC imprint Vertigo (at which she worked on what could be considered not only the most well known titles in her career, but some truly defining books of the time), part of my snip about the editing is probably more subjectively about Shelly’s voice as a writer: Fast Times is written entirely in a too-cool-for-school tone that feels tired to this old man, a front that I haven’t found necessary since my youth. Because the book is awash in pop culture, and because Bond’s personality (from this text) is very much expressed through fashion and book and music choices – and I’m not saying that’s uncommon, and is also something I certainly do – nearly every page is filtered through that lens. However, where it irks is in the belief that that lens is the right one. I’d guess you need some confidence in that in order to be an editor in the first place, but I’d also think a good editor adjusts to the audience and creatives, and the goal of the book. Perhaps I’m spinning in place: perhaps the audience here all loves Suede (the band); but from having worked in music retail for a bit, I ran into too many people whose tunnel vision of one style of media prevented their acknowledgement of all others, and it was never a great look. You’d casually prod with the existence of Other Things (not better, not worse, just… they exist?) and get shot down. Instead of making that tastemaker seem informed, they seem ignorant.

I could further read this as a necessity for Bond: establishing her personality in a male-dominated industry required carving out her opinions from the hardest of stone; she needed to lock down her Self, and make an impression. I’d even say that’s touched on in parts of the text. But not necessarily analytically, leaving us with that tone: I’m going to not-so-casually reference bands and comics you know, because you’re just as cool as me.

But let’s set aside (after a long, rambling paragraph) my personal triggers, except in how this leads into the less subjective editing gaffe: that this leads into a very jumpy writing style, whether in the text blurbs or the comic sections (arted by various names) spread through each chapter. Sometimes it’s an inside baseball thing – something to the akin of I was talking to you-know-who, with ‘who’ never being named, and while ultimately unimportant, it’s narrated in such a way that it creates a gap in making an effective point – but more often it’s just the way Bond jumps from one sentence to the next without really drawing a thread between the two. This is autobiography, but presumably each comic or chapter should have a reason to exist, even if it’s just to list off dates and events; instead, we get a series of zoom-ins that don’t effectively clarify why zooming in on that detail is more important than others. It’s someone breathlessly telling you a story of their day, abiding by their own internal narrative that’s not made clear to the listener.

I’ve now spent two longer paragraphs dwelling on negatives, but the 3 out of 5 rating seems to suggest that, overall, I liked this thing. And yeah, I did. It might be jumpy as heck, but the all-hands-on approach (a long list of contributing writers and artists, offering stories or text or drawings) is clearly impassioned, and even if I may be irked by the storyteller’s style, I do love 90s Vertigo, and presumably you do too – it would seem to be something of a prerequisite to purchase – so a lot of this stuff just inherently resonates. And I don’t mean to suggest that Shelly’s coverage of her career of this time is without interest, as there are a lot of bits and pieces – business and personal – that give us either an image of what some of these people were like behind the scenes, or just how fraught and frantic that world could be. And Shelly does slow down for one of the most impactful parts of the book, covering her relationship with Lou Stathis.

The other thing that really sells this, and helps to move past the aspects that didn’t work well for me, is the design. That’s the practical aspect of it, in terms of the book’s production, with inner and outer flaps, solid but flippable covers / pages, and high printing / lettering quality (capable of presenting both text pages and comics with equal readability); it’s also regarding the color choices and layout and chapter construction. We move chronologically throughout the book, with each chapter containing some starting highlights from Shelly, then a comic, a collage of other highlights, and then generally a separate artist / writer contribution. The non-comic pages contain a fair amount of visual and text info, but it’s never overwhelming, and always fun to circle around and gather up the details, and the constant shuffling between text and comic keeps things moving. Colors are well-chosen to indicate brighter or lower moments, or to draw the eye to more “set” parts of the page, like a rundown of the current events happening at the time of each chapter. The book just looks fun.

But I guess that leaves the final question: if you loved 90s Vertigo, is this book worth it? …I’d say if you’re looking for / hoping for a more historical dive, perhaps not. Fast Times is good at communicating the vibe, but is lighter on specifics. But that era – that imprint – was very vibe driven, and I sincerely don’t believe we’ve experienced its exact like since. So in that sense, even as a Vertigo reader who passed on many of their big titles – Sandman, most of Fables – it’s a very enjoyable return to that sensibility, with an insider view (if a biased one) on what the Vertigo offices were like. I think especially if you, like me, experienced a sense of loss in the later years of Vertigo, recognizing its downfall before it actually went kaput, it’s nice to have an “official” stamp put on that era as something unique. (Feel free to point out the subjectivity of that: because I agree with Shelly on that point, it becomes a positive instead of a negative.)

Lastly, as a side note, I don’t mean to imply that Bond also edited this book, nor is it meant to be an outright trashing of the editing, except that it didn’t work for me. Shelly’s storytelling style I’m sure appeals to many, and the editor worked with that to help carve out a sense of structure. The finer points limited my enjoyment, but you could argue that ceding to those would change the tone of the book, and thus Shelly’s intentions.