V for Vendetta: New Edition (2009)
Author: Alan Moore | Illustrator: David Lloyd | Page Count: 296
“Happiness is the most insidious prison of all.”
V for V is set in a post-war Britain. Whilst not directly involved in the nuclear bombardment, the country did suffer some socio-economic fallout after it was over. In response, it became a fascist state controlled by a select few, policed by the power-hungry and morally corrupt elite, and populated by the frightened.
One man, V, a self-elected revolutionary, attempts to pull away the apathy, to wound the totalitarian regime and incite a passion for change in the populace.
V orchestrates a violent and theatrical campaign against the oppressors. He's a personified wake-up call to the sleeping masses. Being rudely awakened is unpleasant, it's more comfortable to go on sleeping, but should we hate the alarm or the reason it was set?
If V is the central protagonist of the work, which is debatable, then the city itself can be viewed as the most obvious antagonist, as V's nemesis. The people that sit in positions of power are only there because the city let them get there.
I imagine the book is largely misunderstood outside of Britain — as evidenced by the film adaptation — because it mirrors the potential social stratification that could've taken place here, albeit in an extreme scenario. That kind of fractured class structure isn't distinctly British, but it is a deep rooted part of our culture, a part of our history and very possibly a part of our future.
America wants to expand its hypothetical borders and rule the world. Britain wants to close its doors and rule its own back yard with an iron hand. (We don't vote for who we think is best, we vote for who's the least worst, if we choose to vote at all.) That's the kind of environment that breeds — and needs — anarchy, and is the very same conditioning that must be overcome to view the work in its proper context. V isn't a hero. V is an anarchist. Can the two co-exist or are they mutually exclusive? You'll need to decide that for yourself before, during and after reading.
Those early chapters were retroactively coloured to match, but the colouring adds little to the work other than distraction. Panels are well-drawn and dramatic, so a suitably dramatic palette of pure black ink on white page would've been preferable.
Textually, it's filled with provocative ideas and can even be seen as a prototype of what Moore would later achieve with Watchmen (1987). It's not quite as good as that seminal work, but it's damn close.
The 'New Edition' includes two short interludes, originally presented between the three distinct parts. They aren't part of the main continuity, so can be read or ignored as the reader wishes.
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