I just spent the afternoon with Trina Robbins. Well, I read her memoir, that is. There are minor annoyances like editing flubs where she repeated four sentences as a mistake in Chapter 9. And she does come across a bit braggy about her inside connection to the hip kids of the 60s and 70s (“I slept with Jim Morrison! and here’s a list of other guys I could have slept with but didn’t because I was married: Bob Dylan…” and Sonny/Cher wanted her to design their clothes) If you can stomach that, then it’s worth the effort. Tales from the trenches of male-dominated underground comix world, designing clothes for the rock gods and goddesses of the time, raising a daughter as a single mother, bopping around NYC, LA, and landing in SF for good. She takes the opportunity to settle some scores, debunking myths/rumors and going after people who have shunned her. I’m glad she was able to churn this out as a record for posterity.