Written by Jackson Ayres
Edited by Derek Parker Royal
Published by Bloomsbury Academic
Where are the superheroes when you need them to save you from pretentious academic claptrap like the recent book, Alan Moore by Jackson Ayres?
Moore was a young Englishman who loved comic books and wanted to make them. He succeeded beyond his wildest dreams but in the process fell into the industry’s tried and true tradition of screwing over its best and brightest.
He developed a cynicism that wasn’t there before but still produced some brilliant comics before heading off into pretentiousness himself with projects such as his overwritten and overwrought novel, Jerusalem.
We’re more than 20 pages in before the author finishes his endlessly footnoted summation as to whether the comics of Alan Moore should be celebrated at all and then ending with a segment telling us what the following chapters will be.
This is immediately followed by the beginning of the next chapter which repeats what was just said as to what said chapter will be about.
You can probably tell I am not a fan of this type of academic writing.
I get it. I’ve done it. But if its elitist style serves any purpose whatsoever, I have yet to discover it. This book is part of the Bloomsbury Comics Studies Series which tends to cover genres rather than specific creators, as here. Their website says each volume consists of, “accessible, authoritative and comprehensive introductions to key topics in the field.”
Accessible?
I don’t even have a clue what THIS line from the book means: “The gag’s comparison cues Moore’s early interest in comics that foreground comics’ formal affordances.” Anyone?
I have a fairly substantial vocabulary and I initially learned many previously unfamiliar words by looking them up when I ran across them in books or stories I was reading over the years. If I recall correctly, some of those stories were actually written by Alan Moore.
At my age, though, when I’m reading about a subject I already know something about, I really don’t expect to be bombarded by so many words completely unknown to me, especially in a series that bills itself as “accessible.” Examples: quotidian, verisimilar, pelisse, parataxis, immanent, volte-face, contemporaneity, polis, schema… You get the idea. And there are plenty of others. It doesn’t really make the writer sound smart. It just makes it sound as though the writer wishes to be perceived as smart.
No, comics aren’t written just for kids but neither are they aimed solely at intellectuals.
But okay, what about the content? The biographical chapter is rather perfunctorily written, as if compiled from various previous bios, but it does piece together his story well and even offers some info that was news to me as a longtime fan and observer of Moore’s life and career. It’s followed by an overly-detailed examination of Thatcherism and its effects on British comics writers in general, and then a chapter on how a number of those same writers ended up writing in the US.
Finally, nearly 40 pages in, we begin to discuss the actual works of Alan Moore.
The inevitable in-depth autopsy of the original Watchmen mini-series is interesting, as that was one series where Moore and artist Dave Gibbons purposely layered on so many callbacks, homages, and Easter eggs. Thus, Watchmen lends itself to endless analysis and interpretation a la the classic Patrick McGoohan TV series, The Prisoner.
There are also some interesting observations in the sections on the aborted projects, 1963, and Big Numbers. Moore’s takeover of Rob Liefeld’s Supreme worked as both a fun read for Silver Age comics fans as well as a sometimes stinging commentary on the industry in general and Ayres’ summary of that run here is perhaps my favorite section of his book.
Lost Girls and the various iterations of League of Extraordinary Gentlemen get put under the critical scalpel and dissected past the point of any enjoyment as we are informed over and over just how cynical Moore was being through these projects. Tom Strong—my personal favorite of the ABC titles—fares a bit better and might actually add to a reader’s appreciation of the work.
Critical Questions is a section that discusses and sometimes quotes the viewpoints of various previous authors who have endeavored to provide critical analysis of Alan Moore’s comics. The section repeats and expands on points brought up in earlier chapters.
Other sections as the book nears its end cover in some depth the concept of “ideaspace,” “psychogeography,” Alan’s fervent belief in true magic, and the influence of his very Englishness on all his writing. Racism, violence, and sexuality are all placed under the critical microscope as well, in an attempt at psychoanalysis of the great man.
The book’s final chapter is about the cultural, social, and political impact that Alan Moore and his stories have had and continue to have. Leave out the rest of the book and this 25-page essay would be a pretty interesting read on its own.
After that, we’re just left with the backmatter—a glossary, and index, and a lengthy list of citations as is required for this type of academic work.
If ever any comic book creator merited scholarly in-depth critical analysis, Alan Moore certainly would be at the top of such a list. I guess my question is…does any comic book creator really need to have his or her work scrutinized this much?
I discovered Alan Moore when he was still writing for 2000AD back in the early 1980s. I followed him through his work in The Daredevils and Warrior and then on to America.
Along the way, he published essays which made clear his love and understanding of the medium of comics. I still like to read Alan Moore comics. I still like them a lot. I like the fact that Alan Moore put more thought into his comics than the average writer.
The problem is that I finished this book with the distinct feeling that Jackson Ayres has put way more thought into most of Alan Moore’s comics than Alan Moore himself ever did.
