Alan Moore's 'Watchmen': a review

Overall verdict: it's a brilliant book. It has its flaws, but those are minor compared to the rather overwhelming brilliance – a brilliance of such a degree that it made me want to read parts out aloud to people, if only there had been anyone remotely interested in my vicinity. You ever read a book that occasionally you had to stop reading just because it was so good you could not take it all at once? I've experienced that a few times – more often recently, as I seem to be developing a rather good instinct for finding that kind of book; had about two or three hits last year and already two in this – well, that's what reading 'Watchmen' has been like. It's the first comic that I haven't read in one day, not because it was a chore to read but because I had to stop occasionally, the better to savour it.

Not that it is, exactly, a *fun* book to read. In fact, it's rather grim. No; it's *very* grim (although it has some funny moments). Its 'superheroes' are so human in their failings that they are, sometimes, hard to like. The world it is set in is drenched in a relentlessly bleak version of the 80s 'no future' mood, and a pervasive nihilist theme dominates the book. (Brings back memories, that... fear of nuclear annihilation was the emotional backdrop of my childhood.)

'Watchmen' is at its best where it asks the questions we've all secretly (and, as in recent years it has become something of a fad, not so secretly) been wondering about: if we suspend our disbelief enough to believe in a world where superheroes are a fact of life, what kind of people would they be? What kind of psychological background would make a person take up that exotic 'occupation'; and what kind of mental deformations would result from it? 'Watchmen' delves into both of these questions, examining the psychological background of all its 'heroes' – and exposing them as psychopaths, sociopaths, or simply sad figures. Then, it proceeds to take the effects of the lifestyle on the psyche of the protagonists to their logical extremes. "That sounds like the sort of costume that could really mess you up," remarks one ex-heroine to a friend at one point. He replies, "Is there any other sort?" And he knows what he's talking about – paunchy, double-chinned, and impotent unless wearing his costume - a middle-aged, repressed man living, as he is well aware, an adolescent fantasy, he is a clear case of arrested development and yet is, perhaps, still the least deformed among the company he keeps. His friends are near-Nazis, murderers, rapists, alcoholics, or supermen with a God-complex. 'Watchmen' does not, however, easily condemn their choices; it deals in moral complexities and dilemmas. It gives no answers - instead, it points out bigger questions.

Structurally, the book is built with the precision of a clockwork. All parts fit together; every detail, however minute, fulfills a purpose in the story-machine. Most of the time, this is a thing of beauty, though at times it becomes just ever so slightly laboured – there is an occasionally too obvious, and therefore somewhat cheap, effort to connect disparate parts and weave in additional layers of meaning. Most of the time, however, it works perfectly.

Language-wise, there are moments of poetry and moments of sheer beauty – the first two pages of the chapter 'Watchmaker', to give an example, with their quick shifts in time that deftly convey an alien form of consciousness, are very successful. However, there are also moments where it gets a tad pretentious. Still, overall Moore uses language with great skill. Dialogue always rings true, and to be fair, pretentiousness, when it occurs, is usually consistent with the characters and context, so perhaps Moore should not be blamed for it.

The art is... appropriate. It is not beautiful; it does not have the intricate line-work that many European comics (and a few American ones) have, nor does it have the deliberate stylisation and 'artsy-ness' ;-) of some recent stuff. It is drawn and coloured in the style of the typical superhero comics of the decades up to, maybe, the late 80s. (I'm not that knowledgeable about comics yet; don't really know if and when styles changed, but I know that some 'Spiderman' stuff I read a year or so ago looked somewhat similar, and that was from the 80s. So do parts of 'The Sandman'.) Since superheroes of the 80s are exactly what the comic deals with, the style fits the subject, and in fact I've developed a certain appreciation for the aesthetics of it while reading 'Watchmen'. (Overall, though, I must say I actually prefer the black-and-white art of independent comics like 'Finder' or 'Raven's Children' to most mainstream, coloured stuff like 'Watchmen' or even 'Sandman'. Although there are some artists and colourists that manage to produce art that I really like.)

The biggest fault of the book in my eyes is its conclusion. 'Watchmen' does a very good job of making its protagonists believable and real, making it possible even for a sceptic like me to believe in superheroes for the duration of the story. However, the nefarious plot which is unveiled at last as lying behind all the story's events comes straight out of classic, B-movie, evil scientist territory and is considerably harder to believe and take seriously than the ridiculously dressed 'heroes' – although the 'villains'' motivations are perfectly believable.

Nevertheless, this has been an amazing book to read. It does not have the sex appeal of 'Finder' – Nite Owl is too chubby, Jon is too blue, Rorschach smells and is too right-wing, Ozymandias is too creepy, etc. *eg* - but since that is, despite recent appearance, not all I'm looking for in my reading matter, I would recommend it highly. I especially recommend it to anybody who's ever – like me - sneered at the ridiculousness of superhero comics. This, despite its occasional weaknesses, is one of the books that prove that comics are a valid medium for literature and it is one of the few comics which can actually, in breadth, depth and complexity, lay claim to the term 'graphic novel'. (So, for that matter, can 'Sin-Eater', the first story arc of 'Finder', and possibly the whole of 'Sandman', although 'Sandman' may have a bit too much of a short story collection about it to really be called a novel.)

Read more comics, folks. There are treasures there, just waiting to be discovered.