Alan Moore's Girls Gone Wilde

Watchmen creator's decades-in-the-making (porno)graphic opus sees release

Puppets come in uniform, too, and Lost Girls wraps up with a timeless juxtaposition as World War I begins. A German with a passion for Dorothy's silver slippers lends similar attention to his military boots when called up, and the whole fantasy comes to a dark, stark conclusion when the German army arrives at the Himmelgarten. Moore, like any reasonably evolved human being, can't avoid the tragically obvious. "What's the real obscenity here?" he asks rhetorically. "A young man doing one of those things young men traditionally do with their penises, or is it a young man lying in a field with his penis at his feet?

"Looking back," he continues, "we realized what I suppose should have been glaringly obvious from the beginning: that this is a profoundly hippie piece of work betraying how both myself and Melinda were formed in the 1960s. It's got a bold make-love-not-war message, it's pro-erotica, it's pro-sexuality, it's pro–art nouveau, and there are lots of psychedelic and drug sequences. It's not got rock and roll, but it's got Stravinsky. And it revolves around children's fantasy characters, which were also very popular then." Go ask Alice.

Lost Girls: Gale force
illustration: Melinda Gebbie
Lost Girls: Gale force

Details

Lost Girls
by Alan Moore and Melinda Gebbie

See also:
  • Panel Discussion
    A talk with Lost Girls artist Melinda Gebbie
    by Matt Singer
  • Apart from a couple of League of Extraordinary Gentlemen books in the works, Moore is taking a break from the comics he appears to crank out with supernatural ease in order to complete Jerusalem, a microscopically detailed excavation of his Northampton roots. "It's like Ulysses and Moby-Dick wrestling Gravity's Rainbow— at least in terms of its page length," he says. Until then, he's flying high on the good reviews Lost Girls is already eliciting, including a gushing postcard from Brian Eno, which he reads over the phone. "I'm sticking to the ceiling," Moore crows drolly. "I'm so smug, I can hardly stand to be in the same room with myself."

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