I am not going to tell you it's "the best thing I've read all year (!)" or "true brilliance (!)" like some excited putzy twerp who thinks they've found a niche for themselves in comics ("Oh why don't I fit in anywhere! woe is me! nobody understand my art pain!")
It's just good. Very good. That's all. Quit reading.
All of these long revues are worthless. look at the stars, go with the gut.
Cleverly appropriated old-fashioned animation imagery and advertising styles of the 1920s and 1930s are put to use in Quimby at the service of modern vignettes of angst and existentialism. As this cartoon silhouette of a mouse ignominiously suffers at every turn, the spaces between the panels create despair and a Beckett-like rhythm of hope deceived and deferred (but never quite extinguished), buoying Quimby from page to page.
Like Ware's first book, Quimby is saturated with Ware's genius, including consistently amazing graphics, insanely perfectionist production values, cut-out-and-assemble paper projects, and the formal complexity of his narratives that have earned him the reputation as one of the most prodigious artists of his generation.