By Alex Potts (Avery Hill)
ISBN: 978-1-917355-25-4 (TPB/Digital edition)
Apparently a vast fraction of humanity do not have an inner monologue. Lucky them. That’s not the case for Philip who abides alone, inherently awkward in a seaside town. He works from his basement flat and spends all his time inside his head. Here that inner adjudicator finds fault, and he cruelly second-guesses himself without let or surcease unless he’s nailed down and tapping his keyboard for his remote working job…
His days are a roundabout of listening, peeking, and seeking to be unseen by his friendly, sweet old landlady/flat mate Caroline. It’s not her… it’s him…
Occasionally, when the walls close in, he breaks and goes for long walks. At the back or in anonymous corners of cafes and pubs he sees strangers then… but they also see Philip. How they react – or don’t – also torments and unsettles…
When not excoriating himself and poking his mind viciously, Philip admits to being lonely and responds like the last puppy in a litter whenever a stranger smiles at him. However, that next step – making contact – seems beyond him. Sometimes he goes to “his” café and listens to others chat and be friends, but its more about staying current than joining a crowd…
However, this solitary introverted existence starts wildly oscillating after Philip finally forces himself out of his comfortable holding pattern and goes to live-music pub The Quagmire. He sees a local band and somehow starts a painfully tenuous relationship with flighty, vivacious singer Gina. Despite himself, he persists, meets others and trepidatiously extends his social circle.
…And then something happens, and so does another and it’s all out of control, and amidst the shouting in his head, sex and love (sort of) happens, but so does jealousy and bizarre death and he really, really should have stayed indoors…
Or has it all been worth it in the end?
Small, intimately human-scaled and drenched in whimsy, this is a compelling underdog yarn that despite being introspective, deeply ruminative and agonisingly self-exploratory, applies charm, sentiment and empathy to a growing problem and winningly displays the disenchantment and alienation driving the self-inflicted male loneliness epidemic undermining modern human relationships.
If you suffer crushing discomforts, miscommunications, and emotional misfires, but can’t bring yourself to open up – or know someone who is getting to that bad place – you can see what’s what right here and make your own plan guys. So please do…
© Alex Potts, 2026. All rights reserved.
Today in 1907 Chinese manhua pioneer Ye Qianyu (Mr. Wang) was born, followed in 1911 by US Golden Age mainstay Joe Sulman (Biff Bronson). Peruvian all-star Pablo Marcos (Conan, Star Trek: The Next Generation, everything) came along in 1937, and French artist F’Murr/Richard Peyzaret (Le Génie des alpages) in 1946.
We lost Mickey Mouse Sundays stalwart Manuel Gonzales in 1993, Spanish creator José Escobar Saliente (Zipi y Zape) one year later and the game-changing Italian illustrator Massimo Belardinelli (Dan Dare, Steel Claw, Star Trek, Flesh, Meltdown Man, Ace Trucking Co, Sláine, et al) in 2007.