The Comics Journal

George Booth’s cartoons, in large ­part, are theaters, staged vignettes, that, in their tones, mingle the cranky, bristling domesticity of the ’20s and ’30s Clifford Odets with the careening Surrealist/ Dadaist farce of Eugene Ionesco. Booth’s overall tone differs from many of his current colleagues at The New Yorker in its deft balancing of journalism and whimsy.