I finished reading Yoshihiro Tatsumi’s “A Drifting Life” today. My goodness, that is a book. Like if every page of “Infinite Jest” was covered with drawings instead of words, this book is heavy in every sense of the word. Its a thinly veiled autobiography, chronicling his youth as he began working seriously in manga. Every creative person would find an analogue here, with his struggle to find his niche, comparing himself unfavorably to his peers, and never quite being satisfied with a finished work.
The most beautiful thing about “A Drifting Life” is how much this portrayal of a young artist made me feel known, like I am not alone, not an aberration, but instead, that I am rare. There are not that many people who do what they love. We have to take hold of our lives, of our art, and not be swept away.