I Do Not Have a Name. You May Call Me V.

[bcholmes]

V for Vendetta opens this weekend. You probably already know that. I'm very interested in seeing the story, although I'm a bit nervous, given Moore's description of it as "defanged".

So here's something I'm thinking about. Back in 1985/86, I bought V for Vendetta in monthly form. I had been a serious comics junkie since I was 6. By the mid-eighties, I was popping across the river to purchase up my monthly picks. I was on a first name basis with Bill, the guy who owned the comic shop; one day he took my friend and I to a comics convention in Ypsilanti -- the first comics convention I ever attended.

Bill would keep us abreast of all the new developments in comics: in the mid-eighties, creator-owned comics were becoming a big thing. Teenaged Mutant Ninja Turtles had turned into a huge, overnight success, and spawned host of look-alikes (somewhere in Sarnia, I have copies of Adolescent Radioactive Blackbelt Hamsters and Grown-up Thermonuclear Samurai Elephants). That partially lead to the hype around creator-owned comics. Companies like First Comics and Eclipse Comics were leaders in this space, and Marvel followed up with its own creator-owned imprint, Epic Comics.

Eclipse comics holds a special place in my heart, 'cause it exposed me to Miracleman, my first real exposure to Alan Moore's work (it would also expose me to Neil Gaiman's writing). Cat Yronwode, who founded the company, now runs a Hoodoo supply store in San Fran. Small world.

Because I was familiar with Moore's and Gaiman's works, as they'd launch new titles, I'd pick them up. Gaiman's work was still sufficiently new to me (and uneven) that I wasn't sure what I'd think of his new book, The Sandman, but I dutifully picked it up off of the shelves, and became a regular collector. Every once in a while, when I'm feeling insufferable, I think that there should be some special secret membership ring for those of us who were there at the beginning.

In 1985, I started university, and in 1987, I discovered Usenet (just before the great renaming). I hung out on rec.arts.comics, where we analyzed and dissected every issue of Watchmenas it would come out. It was the first large community of people I belonged to who shared my passion for comics. They believed, as I believed, that something important was happening in comics -- that the artform was changing and becoming influential. Other people didn't get it, didn't believe that. For too many people, to say, "I buy comics" was to say "I'm trying to avoid acting like an adult". the_siobhan said the other day that she found it interesting how all the things that used to get you beat up in school have suddenly become popular.

For me, Miracleman, V for Vendetta, Watchmen, The Dark Knight and The Sandman outline a time when it became okay for adults to enjoy comics. They're intertwingled with my own growth into adulthood, and they played a big role in shaping a lot of my interests: politics, Usenet, mythic stories, etc. These stories, for me, alway carry that history and meaning. And it's sometimes a little disorienting when I talk to people who discovered Moore and Gaiman later. It doesn't mean the same thing to them. And that's so hard for me to understand.

I'm not trying to sugggest that my experience of V for Vendetta was better, or more important, or anything. Certainly, posting on Usenet, I've seen just about every example of looking down one's nose at these Johnny-come-lately types.

Any minute now, I'm gonna sound like an old codger, and find myself saying, "By gum, I remember a time when...". I'm sure I'm not the only person to try to suggest that "no, really, it was even more important if you were there!" And I'm sure I've done my share of Not Getting It: "yeah, I picked up the DVD of Woodstock. It was good, but I don't see what everyone's talking about." (I'm reminded of Wil Wheaton's post about the Live Aid DVD: "Dad, he has a mullet!").

I guess all that I'm saying is that V for Vendetta is important to me because it's important to my history.