I don’t want to oversell this, but Alan Moore is a genius. A once in a generation talent that has to be lauded for the brute brilliance that he is able to put on the page. I’ve always admired writers of a certain calibre, wishing to be one myself, and Mr Moore is a .44 in a world of .22s. That is to say his work leaves a larger mark on the soul than many others. V for Vendetta is one of those pieces of art.
There’s not much I could attempt to say that isn’t written in the introduction and after the conclusion of the book that Moore hasn’t written himself. Although they’re perspectives from during the creative process of this book, his views offer incredible insight into the creation of what is one of the world’s best graphic novels. Of course the artistic style of David Lloyd compliments the written work wonderfully and together the words and pictures make a masterpiece of fiction.
The story takes place in a world that seems more familiar today than we may want it to be: an autocratic society forged after the crumbling of civilised social structures. An oppressive regime founded on stiff policing and pervasive surveillance rules over the remnants of the population that survived yet another destructive war. As autocratic fascist regimes do, the people with differences to the ruling class were rounded up and concentrated in camps where they were experimented on and mostly exterminated.
That was the story for most. But one lucky, or unlucky, soul survived this tortuous existence, escaping in an explosive fire manufactured by his own hand. He then becomes a vigilante for social justice and terrorises the ruling elite by dismantling their structures of power. It’s dramatic and thematic and poignant and really quite pretty to the open-minded.
One thing that struck me this time around was the relationship between V and Evey. V is the kind of figure I wish I could be, idealistic, unflinching, principled in the face of overwhelming power. A true vigilante whose existence is dedicated to tearing down the walls of injustice. And then there’s Evey, naïve, pitiful, stumbling her way through fear and confusion. That’s much closer to the person I actually am. But that’s the beauty of the story: it’s not about staying who you are, it’s about transformation. Evey’s journey shows that even the frightened fool can evolve, shed their weakness, and carry on the mantle of resistance. That’s a message worth holding onto, because in a world that seems to breed apathy, we desperately need reminders that change is possible.
So yes, V for Vendetta is brilliant. It is heavy and it is bleak, but it’s also a rare kind of beacon. A warning and a promise in the same breath. Moore and Lloyd created something that transcends pulp and panels. It crawls under your skin, forces you to see the systems around you, and asks the uncomfortable question: what will you do about it? And here’s the bitter truth: humans haven’t really learned much since this book was first published. The masks are still needed. The regimes are still rising. The apathy is still thick in the air. So if you can, read it. Not just for yourself, but because maybe, just maybe, the next person who does will finally decide to stop being Evey and start being V.
