Alan Moore's Lost Girls
By Geoff Hoppe
Mar 12, 2008 - 20:36
Top Shelf Productions
Writer(s): Alan Moore
Penciller(s): Melinda Gebbie
THE OBLIGATORY WARNING: ridiculously graphic depictions of every kind of sex imaginable. Rape. Incest. Bestiality. A sole disembowelment.
There is one thing Alan Moore gets right, though. He’s had historic foresight in jam-packing one volume with all his personal ideas regarding sex. You see, back in antiquity/the middle ages/the Renaissance, authors and poets selfishly waited until they died, then expected other people to provide an apotheosis for them. The shame! The temerity! Blessed be, then, that Alan Moore has thought to inform his public why he’s more sagacious than they with properly pedantic polemics. Now I don’t have to wait for him to die before I understand the myriad ways his vast storehouse of wisdom enriches my feeble mind.
Alan Moore’s ability to write exceptionally well is beyond argument. You can hate every word he writes…but just try and stop reading. It’s not easy. Yet, he’s repeatedly misapplied himself, attacking everything from heroism (Watchmen), to Britain itself (the muted postcolonial rantings of League of Extraordinary Gentlemen), and now chastity. Alan Moore’s career is a walking compression of Yeats’ caveat from “The Second Coming:” the best writer of his generation, full of both conviction and passionate intensity, becomes, by his own ignorance, the worst thing to happen to comics since Frederic Wertham.
Melinda Gebbie, likewise, proves herself beyond capable. Looking at her ethereal images, one (desperately) hopes she’ll someday adapt the works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge. The colors of Lost Girls, ridiculously lush and beautiful, are perhaps the book’s best feature. They, too, conjure up the art of the early 20th century, and every few pages, the reader feels they’ve stumbled into Matisse’s Luxe, Calme, et Volupte, or an Andre Derain landscape. This is all to say she knows her sh*t.
See sin in state, majestically drunk,
Proud as a peeress, prouder as a Punk;
Chaste to her husband, frank to all beside,
A teeming mistress, but a barren bride.
Worth the money? Since Lost Girls costs $75, the answer would be doubtful even if I liked it. Besides, 75 bucks will buy a lot of Hagrid-on-Dolores Umbridge ship-fic…
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