On the Road Again. And Again. And Again.

Dioxin and antifreeze? Is the "source" the leaky radiator of my '79 Bronco?

Koren Shadmi's Highwayman follows a man named Lucas over the course of centuries, maybe millennia, as he just travels. Every chapter is him catching a ride from someplace in whatever direction his ride is going. Lucas is trying to find what has made him the way he is, and hopefully why. Which makes it interesting that in the first chapter he tells the person he's bummed a ride from he lost his belief in God long ago, but he's still confident there's a reason behind what's happened to him. Not that God would have to be responsible, but given his circumstances, I kind of expected he'd attribute it to a similar sort of power.

The final chapter does reveal the purpose behind what happened to him, but the book is more concerned with the continually degrading state of the world, the repetitive cycle humanity is caught in. Every chapter Lucas encounters people participating in acts of cruelty or greed. Or turning a blind eye to it because they aren't the ones suffering. There are people who have, and people who don't, but that never seems to be enough for the former. The struggles of the ones who lack, somehow offensive to those with plenty, when they bother to acknowledge it.

Lucas is indifferent to most of it. None of it can actually harm him, so it doesn't concern him. He has his quest for answers. He bears up under cruelty and mockery silently and patiently. That too will pass, I suppose. Shadmi does have him act on a few occasions to help people in trouble. It keeps Lucas from being too alienating, too indifferent, as a protagonist. I mean, if he not only doesn't give a damn about his own safety, or that of literally anyone else, is there any reason to care what's going on in the story?

Shadmi uses sticks to six-panel grids, with most of those panels focused on Lucas or the person he's interacting with. Just them talking. Lucas rarely turns to look at the person who picked him up, or even watch them from the corner of his eye. Even in the chapter on the train, where he's sitting across from them in a passenger car, it doesn't feel like he really sees the man he's talking with. When they're in a panel together, Lucas is staring out the window or in another direction. Always focused on the far horizon, where he hopes he'll find his answers.

Considering the purpose behind all this, it's an interesting approach. In some ways, he's doing a good job fulfilling that purpose, but in others, I wonder if he's falling short because of the distance he maintains.

Each chapter is dominated by a different color. Earlier chapters have brighter, more lively colors. The first is done in blues, the second, orange-peach (The middle image in this post is from the second chapter.) I suppose because the world isn't entirely fucked just yet. The fourth is a particularly strong reddish-orange, but by then, everything is baking. The last few chapters are messier. Chapter 5 is either a pale white or a dirty, faded yellowish green thing. Someone with more precise color vision than me will get more from this aspect. I like it just for how it helps keep chapters distinct, creating a sense of the passage of time, even with a few different chapters with the ruins of cities in them, and Lucas remaining the same throughout.