“Seven Places Without You” by Juan Berrio

Elena is going through a breakup. She thinks. She’s not exactly sure, but probably.

This is her story. It’s not melodramatic. It’s not a three-act structure. It’s more a slice-of-life thing. It feels real, and I enjoyed it a lot more than I thought I would.

Seven Credits

What’s Going On?

Elena’s boyfriend, Jorge, has been gone for more than a day. This isn’t the first time. He has a new job. He doesn’t even come home every night.

Oh, and did I mention the two are living together under his parents’ roof?

Elena has had enough and moves out while he’s away and out of touch. Jorge’s mother is super sweet and helpful in the process.

Elena goes to crash on a friend’s couch while she looks for a new apartment. She visits her family. She takes a walk in the park. She makes new friends and reconnects with old ones.

Will Jorge show back up again? Does he realize what he’s done? Is there really true love here? Will she continue to put up with him? Should she just write him off and move on with her life?

There’s not a right or wrong answer here. That’s a big part of the reason why the book works so well as it does. Sure, it’s easy for us as the reader to write him off immediately and root for her to cut ties and run screaming, but she’s more conflicted than that. Is it because she doesn’t want that kind of change in her life? Is she just trying to fix the man who can’t be fixed? Or is this all just some kind of misunderstanding or communication gap that can be bridged and a stronger relationship come out of it?

These are the questions that hang over the book as you follow Elena’s life in the aftermath of what looks like a pretty quiet, yet strange, breakup.

The whole thing has the air of mystery hanging over it. The disappearance of Jorge at the start isn’t the beginning of some thriller movie or legal drama or fantasy adventure. You never think for a second that Berrio is going there.

He crafts a very realistic look and feel to the book, even though his art is so spare. You know there’s a better story going on and this is closer to real-life than your typical comic. “Seven Places Without You” is a satisfying story about the imperfection of love lives, and how even those who think they’re meant for each other might not be as right as they think.

Also, at the risk of sounding like the old man in the room, they’re both young. She’s still in college and this is his first job out of college. They don’t really know what they’re doing, yet the simplest things are going to seem like the biggest dramas. They’re just kids playing grown-ups. We’re all messed up and stuck in our heads at that age.

The Conceit

As the title suggests, the book has seven chapters, each one about a different place where Jorge isn’t: Jorge’s mother’s house. Elena’s friend’s house. Elena’s family’s house. The park. A bar for a get-together with some friends. Another friend’s place. Her new apartment.

Each chapter runs as many pages as it takes to tell the story, ranging from 8 to 20 pages or so.

Barrio’s art is set on a three-tier page that often breaks down into a classic 9-panel grid, but not on every page.

His art is very attractive but very sparse. He uses an almost uniform thin line for all his drawings, and a monotone color scheme for the whole thing. It’s all watercolored in various shades of creamy beige, I guess you might say?

There are a few exceptions, mostly in clothing colors, like her friend’s purple shirt, or the blue/green shirt she wears in the first chapter.

It reminds me a bit of Andi Watson’s work, though not quite as simplistic/iconic.

It’s very easy to read, with nothing too dramatic or shocking. Berrio maintains a fairly consistent mid-distance view of all the action, with a few wider shots to establish locations. There’s nothing in this book that couldn’t be easily replicated in real life with a film camera. It’s not a flashy comic, but the storytelling is crisp, clear, and effective.

When you have a question, it’s because Berrio wants to leave the interpretation of his art in that scene up to the reader. He’s not going to spell that part out. It’s not that there are big mysteries left in this book, though. It’s pretty clear what’s going on.

He also leaves lots of room for the story to breathe, much like another recently reviewed book, “Someone To Talk To“, did. A series of silent panels illustrate common activities, like waking up or packing a bag or getting changed. It makes Elena even more human, and paces out the 100+ pages of this story in an interesting way.

The chapter breaks are an attractive addition to the book. Each has a well-drawn bird’s eye view of the local area where the chapter is set, including lots of architecture that fits in Berrio’s style while being detailed and in proper perspectively.

Recommended?

Yeah, sure. Don’t bother with it if you’re looking for an adventure book or a comedy or anything. But if a relationship story might be of interest, this one is enjoyable.

It’s a relatively quick read for a 111-page book. The dialogue flows evenly, thanks to the translation work from Fiona Marshall.

It’s not the kind of book I’d normally pick up(*), but I really enjoyed it. It doesn’t get too mopey and it doesn’t overstay its welcome. It’s a nice read.

I’ve reviewed another of Berrio’s books in the past: “Kiosco” is a completely silent comic done in landscape format.

(*) And, yet, I try more of this material now than I ever have. I find it far more palatable than I once did, or maybe I just like it more with the European flair than I do with North American whiney autobiographical mopiness? Is “mopiness” even a word? Spell check isn’t coming after me for it, so….

Buy It Now

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