Review by Karl Verhoven

As much as anything, the assorted stories in Ice Cream Man are about the façade supplied to the world and the horrors and deceptions that façade conceals. The sinister Ice Cream Man himself certainly represents that, but time and again W. Maxwell Prince examines the pit beneath. He does so here in considering the author of cute, yet dark children’s stories, and the figglybumps themselves, innocents unequipped for the modern world. And then again in explaining the term ‘decompression’ as it applies to stories.

That’s something Prince seems to have a particular grudge against, as it’s explored at length, yet intelligently without pointing fingers in any particular direction. A family of four die in a head-on car crash, and from that Prince extrapolates 28 pages of explanation, delving into past, present and future, all built around the phrase “Tom, the truck!” We’re told at the start the family are dead, and that’s a promise kept. Given the story limitations, a lazier artist might be tempted to repeat panels far more frequently than Marcos Martín does. He’d be able to get away with it as well, as the purpose is to point out how easy it is to stretch very little plot a long way, and repetitive art would underline it. Martín, though, earns his money by drawing variations, and they’re disturbing for showing death and its immediate aftermath in slow increments.

As Ice Cream Man features short stories, the thought would be that the theme of decompression would be done with, but we are talking narrative decompression, and with “Jud, the car!” it begins again. This time, though, it’s more a dissection of people rather than form, and while very good in isolation, the picking apart of unfulfilled lives is a journey Prince has taken before. What prevents it entirely stomping the same ground is an excellent bittersweet epilogue.

Our other story concerns Gary, seen before. In fact many Garys all engaged in meaningless daily tasks and fed nothing other than vanilla ice cream. Are we all Garys fed nothing other than vanilla ice cream to keep us from thinking about the wider world? You’d have to ask Prince about that.

So, one can identify minor diminishing points, but they are minor, and this is another soul-searching, thought-provoking collection masterfully drawn.