The Manhattan Project

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“Who watches the Watchmen?” leers long-faded graffiti from the redbrick of a New York side-alley. An overflowing trashcan nearby adds a faint, sickly odour to the air, as a shadowy figure melts into the night beyond. Replace the word ‘watch’ with the word ‘read’, and for me, the answer should be ‘as many people as possible’.
I came quite late to the comic scene. I’m sure we’re all aware of the of the typical comic book reader stereotypes – spotty, basement-ridden computer nerds with inch-thick glasses, societal rejects who would rather live in ridiculous fantasy worlds, and middle-aged wasters who seem unable to let go of their mothers’ apron strings. Although there’s often no smoke without fire, I find myself scoffing at the notion as a whole. Comic books (or ‘graphic novels’, as those with more adult leanings tend to be called) are an ever more popular medium, no longer so widely regarded as immature crap. As such, I find myself able to dive in headlong without so much as a sarcastic comment from my peers.
This image change is in no small part thanks to Alan Moore. This beardy British weirdo from Northampton created The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (the book, not that sub-par film), inspired the current take on the Batman/Joker relationship in his one-shot story The Killing Joke, and, for my money, matches George Orwell’s vision of a dystopian, totalitarian future with V for Vendetta.
But Watchmen. Watchmen, his magnum opus, is a cut above the rest. I’ll admit, the brief doesn’t look too promising; a bunch of middle-aged, retired superheroes; one is a mild-mannered, slightly podgy Batman-esque ornithologist. Another, the only one who is still active (albeit illegally), is an uncompromising right-wing nut-job with his own particularly brutal brand of justice. Another is a rich ponce with a fondness for purple and a God complex – and that’s next to the only one who actually has any superpowers. An odd bunch for sure, but that’s where the appeal lies. How easy is it really to identify with a heroic staple like Superman, with his startling array of superhuman traits, extra-terrestrial heritage and bright red pants (‘Ugh, I can fly at supersonic speed and see through walls, I have so many problems!’)? Moore’s characters are conflicted, self-doubting and stroppy – and all the more human for it.
Set in an alternative 1985 where America won the Vietnam war, Nixon is still president, and nuclear war is on the horizon, the main plot revolves around Rorschach (the mental vigilante) investigating the murder of one of their number from ‘back in the day’. As more of the costumed adventurers are attacked or forced into exile, the more it seems that Rorschach’s assumed paranoia is not so unfounded. It’s much like the usual comic book fare that we all know, but there’s more to the story than that. Watchmen is about the people behind the masks.
When the story was first published it wasn’t in the single volume ‘graphic novel’ format that is readily available today; it was a serial divided into twelve parts, published over the course of about a year by DC Comics. Most of each issue was the standard panel-by-panel visual storytelling method that is comic book staple, but what set them apart from their contemporaries was the supplemental prose piece that sat at the end of each one. These took several formats, including excerpts from the autobiography of one of the first generation of masked vigilantes, an article written by the ornithologist about owls, and a feature on pirate comics. They al, in their own way, add volumes of depth to the narrative.
And that’s just the tip of the iceberg of nuance. A fictional pirate comic called ‘Tales from the Black Freighter’ actually intertwines with the main plot in several places in a number of issues, the author of which is mentioned in the prose feature, and actually has a hand in the final reckoning of the story.
But I’m getting away from my point. As I said, it’s not just about the masks; it’s about the people behind them – both physically, and emotionally, in those who have some stake invested in their fates. The two Bernies are series favourites; a news vendor with an opinion about everything that he isn’t afraid of voicing, and a young boy who sits at the former’s news stand, occasionally listening to him whilst reading ‘Black Freighter’ (which is itself an intelligent piece of metafiction). They represent the most common demographics: the Watchmen universe’s inhabitants, and the comic’s reader – an important voice indeed.
There really is no one thing that makes Watchmen so special for me; to insinuate there was would be an insult to its other shining gems. The piece as a whole in all its multi-layered, many-faceted glory sits in pride of place on my bookshelf. Whilst not the very first comic I ever read, I shall always consider it to be so. It opened my eyes to what comic books could be, and has set a lofty bar for my future expectations of the genre. Budding writers take note – you could do a lot worse than learn from Alan Moore.