Yes, I did it.
I finally gave in.
I’m reading that well-known, bright yellow, bound pulp. You know the one, the one that you can actually smell the scum and garbage oozing from the pages. The one where you can actually see the despair radiating from the ink like sonic waves. The one that quietly invites you in, while all the time whispering “no.”
Yup, you guessed it (and if you didn’t just reread the title smart one) this week I’m reading Moore’s Watchmen. (I probably didn’t have to preface the title with Moore, I just thought the guy should have his due)
Yes, I repeat, I’m reading Watchmen, like everybody else. . . Everybody.
Since the movie is coming out everyone, not just comic fans, is reading this book.
But I can’t help that. I have to read it if I am ever to be that courageous comic connosiuer, even if I’m not too thrilled about it.
I know, I know, I’ve heard what you people are saying. You’re saying, “It’s the Mecca of comic books!”
You’re saying, “You have to read Watchmen!” You’re saying, “Man, I forgot just how good this is, you should read it too.”
Alright, alright, I heard you, and I’m reading it.
But, let me tell you, it is a drawn out process. Usually I can pick up a graphic novel and have it finished in a couple hours (if it’s long, if it’s not then less). I like to take my time, absorb the visuals and such.
But, for some reason, I am having a really difficult time doing that with this comic.
It’s not that it isn’t interesting, I think I’m just used to a faster paced comic.
Pretty much all that has happened so far is some ex-heroes have been killed, physically, and then other heroes are in the process of dying mentally and spiritually. Yippee.
Sure, who wouldn’t want to read about heroes who have given up? Who wouldn’t want to read about the heroes who haven’t given up, the crazy red-headed ones, the ones who like cold beans and ink stained masks? Yes, that’s how I like my heroes, screwy, scary and smelly. I mean, it’s either that or the pot-bellied owl, the bitter ex-girlfriend, or the atom man who looks like the lovechild of Starman and Smurfette.
Of course, I shouldn’t be so judgemental as I’m only about half way through it. So maybe the heroes grab a hold of some gumption, some real resolve. Otherwise Moore has painted (or written. . . whatever) another clear depiction of the attrocities cradled by a sad mother earth. Thank you Mr. Moore for reminding us of the horrible things we, as humans, are capable of us. We appreciate your honesty, for telling us why we are really dying (and I don’t mean physically), for informing us that we are destroying ourselves.
