There’s something about the work Jeff Lemire that brings to mind the work of two of my favourite creators. With writer Ray Bradbury and singer-songwriter David Sylvian he shares a genius for evoking landscapes haunted by childhood, by love and loss and growing old. And he does so in the form of comics that he writes and draws, a chunky collection of which are to be found in Essex County, an anthology published by Top Shelf.

Lemire is Canadian, and there is a distinct sense of place conjured up in his lyrical linework. The Essex County of the title is the setting for three interlinked stories set in an imagined rural Ontario drawn from Lemire’s own upbringing. Place and time are as important as the characters he crafts. A young boy who imagines he is a superhero, brought up by his uncle, with whom he has no real connection — his emotional life is experienced with a former ice hockey player. The truth of their relationships is uncovered slowly, and reveals layers of pain and confusion that echo from past to present.

With linework akin to that of Ted McKeever, and powerful full page images of people in relation to their environments, the stories have a distinct folkloric feel, poised somewhere between the everyday and the eternal. The tales reach back into decades past, but the emotions go back further still, dealing with timeless emotions and situations.

Autobiographical comics — or at least the majority of autobiographical comics I come across — tend not to interest me. Their authors have not led lives that interest me, or want my pity, or lack insight. Exceptions are few and far between: I love Eddie Campbell’s Alec stories for their idiosyncrasy, and suspect that what I value about Lemire’s work is its universality. I’ve never played ice hockey, and have no particular interest in it beyond the bloody thrills to be enjoyed in the film Slapshot, but a story in which one brother loses a fight in order to enrage his brother into seeking vengeance for him — on the ice — is one that I can empathise with.

This is deceptively simple work. It can be read quickly, but stay to relish the effect of the subtle lines, the inventive transitions that lead from present to past, from then to an eternal now. The words are straightforward, but powerful. This isn’t just rural Canada — it’s ancient Greece, it’s Shakespeare’s England, it’s right here and right now with the bullshit and tinsel stripped away, and only primal truths left.

Essex County is my first and only encounter with Jeff Lemire. He’s now working with DC imprint Vertigo on a series called Sweet Tooth, which seems to add a magical realist element to his repertoire of archetypal situations and emotions. The setting is a post-apocalyptic world and the protagonist a youngster called Gus who sports a fine pair of antlers. It’s been getting excellent reviews, and I’ll be picking up the first collected edition when it appears. Also for Vertigo there was The Nobody, a graphic novel riff on The Invisible Man which got mixed reviews.

Where does Lemire go from here? I’ve a feeling that with his unique art style, and his ability to write too, he could follow in the footsteps of the equally indefinable Paul Pope. Certainly, it would be good to see someone emulate Pope’s breadth of vision and involvement in a range of compelling projects, each driven by a singular if indefinable obsession. I use Pope as an example in the best sense — not someone to emulate for his career moves and project choices, but for the clear passion which infuses everything that bears his name.