The first two chapters of Brian Biggs’ Dear Julia would work very well as a spoken-word recording. The tone put me in the same mind as Coldcut‘s “Mr Nichols” from Sound Mirrors — not least because of the opening setting of a ledge of a downtown building. Biggs has a clear mastery of the written word, and his artwork — slightly reminiscent of Richard Sala — fits his story perfectly.
The story, a realistic-yet-fantastic tale of a man, who after an odd event in the middle of the desert years prior, believes he can fly. It’s revealed that the man, Boyd, has this feeling in his blood; orphaned as a child when his father careened his car off a mountainside, he’d long been obsessed with birds and flight.
The book is somewhat of a mystery; a mysterious small man comes to see Boyd and jogs his memory of the desert event, which rekindles his interest in flight. Boyd doesn’t trust the man — and it’s unclear if we should either. His own interest in Boyd and the desert is vague. Perhaps he’s just a well-meaning citizen who wants to help Boyd reclaim his dream; perhaps he is a government agent. Perhaps he is just more of a mystical being.
Biggs’ book is short, though it doesn’t really seem like there’s anything missing. There’s nothing else to the story, and so it ends — which is always good. Some people could learn from that.