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A treat for young boys of modern age... Rather than girls of yesteryear. Never has a novel attain that level of graphism!,
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This review is from: Lost Girls (Hardcover)
...and you'll be sleeping flatter, relieved after having thrown away all the glossy plumbing manuals you're hiding, since the very first teenage turmoils, under your matterace.
Hopelessly male geek Disclaimer: Visiting a sperm-bank (just for argument's sake), if there were no appropriate hard prop (say, the DVD is broken), I think I would need to remain faithful to Madame Claudia, the memorable heroine of the black and white saga "le Déclic" dreamed and deliciously drawn by Milo Mañara [*]. Pencilled curvatures of her quite muscular body would still suffice to produce, in my loins, the miraculous conditions leading to a possibility of fruitful conception.
Now, the affair between Alan Moore (logocentric script, i presume) and Melinda Gebbie (daresay, more of an audacious drawing and coloring, based on some deeply regressive self-analysis), not mentioning the lettering by Todd Klein (a herculean, if not quite convincing for such an aged esthaete as myself), has gone very, very far indeed.
Just imagine: a couple of talented artists decide to ignore the veil of ignorance, this barrier between their sexes, to uncover, in the service of all graphic art lovers, the derridian différance responsible for the wound which is the "ursprung", the primordial basis and source of our very own gender identity in all its ever multiplying avatars.
Spoiler alert: I would certainly like to ruin the surprise, but... You surely know it already: they married and live together happily ever since. (besides: let Neil Gaiman be blessed for this match-making chef d'oeuvre...)
Interviewed in 2007, i.e. right after giving birth to their wonder-kid for adult readers, by Daniel Robert Epstein, Gebbie explained the reason for Lost Girls taking no less than 16 years :
" I worked it out one day after it was all over and it came out to three days per panel for the book. So that's not too long actually considering there's eight to ten layers of colored pencils in the panels and mixed media and stuff like that. I had to make sure that everything I put into the book was the best that I could manage and that takes an awful lot of sublimation with going through my own personal life and trying to concentrate on the most memorable and exquisite moments of everything. It was exhausting. I had to make sure that I was in a happy mood and doing the absolute best I could. For the first two years I was very self-conscious, because I thought, "Oh my God, everybody who reads this is going to know exactly what my sex drive is like and whether it's crap or not."
(...) So I thought, "Well, if I'm going to be brave, the first thing I have to do is get rid of my self-consciousness." That was long psychological and a physical process of gearing up. Also because Alan was working here, long hours and working on five or six projects at a time, we only got to see each other about three times a week. It wasn't like we were living together and could feed off each other's energy. We each had to feed off our own energy and be quite isolated most of the week. I wanted it to be joyous and ecstatic and everything that I thought sex would be about when I was a kid. Back then I thought there must be some great book somewhere where sex is explained and it's beautiful which encourages you to learn so you don't have to be scared. Of course, there was no book like that."
If you dare, Why don't you see the whole conversation:
Or just the climax confession:
"The book was everything to me. I have a cat but I don't have any children so everything I am, everything I''ve done, everything I feel, everything I think, to some extent has been drained into this book. It didn''t matter whether I was out walking or doing things with friends or just by myself, the book was always going through my head. The pages that I was doing, the pages that I''d done, the chapters we''d done, the things we had yet to do. I didn''t go traveling very far from my workplace partly because I was afraid that if I got on a plane I might fall into the ocean and the book might never get finished. I couldn''t have been more involved in it had been an actual human baby."
There she reveals more than this brief note on a margin, yet infinitely less than the book itself. Go get it for yourself, for your (potential) children's sake!
So, go ahead,
*a sad fact: the post- millenium hardback, one volume reeditions are self mutilated, and betrayed in a appalling foreword, by their own father. Decades later, Mañara fails to explain the inexcusable decline in our culture, where the most essentially human impulses are concerned.