The second part of a metamemoir trilogy—the first, An Old Junker, was a coming-of-old-age blognovel—Dear Howard can be taken as a graphic novel in the epistolary (post card) tradition, although some readers will recognize it as an epic poem, communally composed, with the central, homeric voice of “Howard” only occasionally to be heard. Most of the text seems to be addressed toward him, but whether the messages are truly specific to him, or merely generic/formulaic greetings & salutations must be determined on a stanza by stanza basis.
Did the ur-Howard even read these texts at all, or did he just look at the pictures? Were there other cards that he trashed? And why? Because their messages were unspeakably conventional? Because even their offhandedness threatened his need to avoid extended colloquy? Did he, in fact, reply, and, if he did, what of those messages? Were they collected? Might there be an alternative universe out there, provisionally titled Best regards, Howard or Your friend, Howard or even—best-case scenario—Love, Howard.
The lavish illustrations themselves are, for the most part, infinitely more sophisticated than the texts. Some are by such world-renowed artists as: Ansel Adams, Hieronymous Bosch, Robert Capa, Edward Hopper, Winslow Homer, Paul Klee, Russell Lee, Pablo Picasso, Hiram Powers, Diego Rivera, Auguste Rodin, Egon Schiele, Alfred Sisley, Edward Steichen, and Grant Wood. Others are of a shoddiness that barely deserves to be called “commercial.”
In addition, this melange serves as a time capsule, with postmarks from 1982 through 1986, an era in which Junker endured what was once called “midlife crisis,” an era in which he finally got his act together.
