Like so many celebrities entering mid-career, Bigfoot is facing the agonizing prospect that his best years may already be behind him. At least that’s the conceit of Graham Roumieu’s Bigfoot: I Not Dead, the Toronto-based illustrator’s third sasquatch-themed book in half a decade.
    The years since the coming-out-of-the-woods memoir In Me Own Words haven’t been kind to the hirsute, foul-smelling beast, whose latest confessional reads like something straight out of young Hollywood, replete with tales of binge eating, addiction, and excessive partying. (“If Bigfoot want pay thousands of dollars an hour to huck hot dog at beautiful women in unicorn costume who has right to stop Bigfoot?”) Still, it’s difficult not to feel some sympathy for the all-too-human creature, who’s depicted here as the guileless victim of a capricious, overly salacious media. “Woods used to be about survival of fittest,” Bigfoot observes. “Now everybody … call me vulgar and outdated animal and people say awful thing about me on internet.” 
    Accompanying these blunt, hand-scrawled musings, Roumieu’s rough watercolours capture the would-be noble savage’s bewildered encounters with non-forest-dwelling society, resulting in tableaux that are by turns humorous and sinister: Bigfoot’s misguided etiquette when defecating in public is amusing, though understandable; the gory valentine to his beloved perhaps less so.