And I'll look down and whisper... "no."

Rorschach's Journal.  October 12th, 1985:

"Dog carcass in alley this morning, tire tread on burst stomach.  This city is afraid of me.  I have seen its true face.  The streets are extended gutters and the gutters are full of blood and when the drains finally scab over, all the vermin will drown.  The accumulated filth of all their sex and murder will foam up about their waists and all the whores and politicians will look up and shout "Save us!"...

... and I'll look down, and whisper 'no.'"

I just finished the graphic novel, Watchmen, written by Alan Moore and illustrated by Dave Gibbons. The hype was true -- it was honestly one of the best things I think I've ever read. I was blown away with just how meticulous the story was crafted, and how poignant it was as a whole, how honest.  

Without spending too much time on the premise of Watchmen, basically it's about a world that actually had superheroes, with everything about them portrayed as realistically as they possibly could be; in that they were just costumed vigilantes (with the exception of one). The story is about a lot of things and presents a lot of ideas, but its single-most important facet is that it entirely deconstructs the implications of actual heroism and all that comes with it -- the human psyche, the relationship with one's public, and the meaning of right and wrong (hint; it's not as simple as it sounds). 

The way it does this is exploring complex, multifaceted characters; characters we'd normally supposed to be able to latch onto in any run of the mill superhero story. Righteous citizens with a clear view of what is good and what is evil, who will stop at nothing to defend the people, serve, and protect. 

The heroes in Watchmen are not that straightforward. 

I could spend days writing about all of them, but of the core cast, I want to pick out and talk about the character that really stuck with me, more than the others -- Rorschach. (pictured above)

Already we can see just how fascinating he looks, and as seen in the first gif, that mask of his is not stationary. The ink blotches shift and change, miming an actual Rorschach test. As a character, he speaks in broken sentences, patrols the streets at night in his costume even after heroes are outlawed, and records the events of each day, keeping careful note of suspicions in the dark. The story opens with him investigating the supposed murder of a former comrade, and spilling his feelings of the world's injustice, as quoted. He's violent, vengeful, and sees the world in one of two shades -- good, and evil. 

Rorschach represents the hypocritical morality rampant among actual superheroes, and the fault of having such a black and white worldview. He takes the high ground in every scenario to a brutal degree, often delving into murder over contemporary beliefs formed in reaction to any number of offenses. He'll break into someone's home and destroy their property on virtue of them breaking the law themselves. This is a deliberate paradox, being that he constantly traverses the law to uphold it -- mirroring the blatant hypocrisy of figures like Batman, Superman, and virtually every other American superhero that has so much as trespassed, vandalized, and maimed in the name of "greater good." 

His visual motif, the Rorschach test, may alter and change (and as such, is internally inconsistent), but its colors never dip into anything other than the two extremes. No gray. Just black and white. The question this imagery entails, "What does it look like to you?" is a perfect way to encapsulate the implications of his actions. Sure, "evil" needs to be punished -- but his brand of punishment is so delegated to one school of thought that along the way he destroys whole acres of property, puts innocent lives in danger, and fatally wounds those who get in his way; even if they're also on the path of justice.

He also has a trait I have not ever seen in any kind of superhero, and that is asexuality. To some it could seem like Rorschach is misogynist, and to others it could seem like he's afraid of women, or at least uncomfortable around them -- and either one of these conclusions isn't entirely far from the truth. At the end of each chapter, there is a little bit of prose detailing events or details of the story that couldn't be reasonably done in the form of comic; be it a newspaper article, a bit from a memoir, or even a diary entry. One of these is Rorschach's psychiatric-patient file, included in which is something he drew as a child. A nightmare he had... about his mother having sex with a man. To him, they were but one creature, with a hideous, connected face, and four legs intertwined at the hips.

Given that he'd been seriously abused and grew up in such a loveless home, Rorschach's psychology molded around what he could piece together from his experiences. The only interaction he truly had with a woman was that of his mother, who was a prostitute who would bring abusive men into their home, and tell her son he was ugly, that she wished she'd never even had him. When he walks in on them, she continues the abuse, solidifying his negative view of women due to his lack of other examples. This is some very Freudian psychology -- his entire perception of women had been altered because of these experiences, and the ideas he generated stuck with his mindset and followed him into his crime-fighting career. We see it in effect with his comments, saying that he did not like Laurie Jupiter's (Silk Specter II, one of his comrades) very feminine costume, referring to women abroad as "whores," projecting his mother's actions onto all of them out of his yet-still black and white worldview. 

His brand of morality is unrelenting, backing down for no obstacle and never, ever changing or maturing. His thoughts and actions are dependent on one of the two extremes, and no amount of uncertainty or gray area can actually convince him to change. And while that may be somewhat simple, how exactly he got to that point is very detailed and plausible. So already we can see just how complex this character actually is. And apply that complexity to every character in the story, the panel design, the use of color and contrast, the allegorical narrative, and the "comic within a comic" The Tales of Black Freighter told alongside pivotal scenes... and you still have only breached maybe 20% of what makes Watchmen truly that special. Rorschach is but one element, and even then I could still probably write a few more pages about his costume alone -- and then a few more about his lines, his appearance, (not to mention his astoundingly short height at 5'6, which is actually as tall as I am) and everything they entail. 

I seriously suggest that you give this graphic novel a read if you haven't already. I was blown away, and in a world where I hold media so near and dear, finding something that totally blew my previous favorites out of the water was an incredible experience. 

As always -- keep writing, keep watching, and most importantly, keep reading. 

Goodbye, Class E (A Love Letter)

My friend does this thing that really bugs me. When he finishes watching or reading something, he’ll usually say something like, “8/10 for how well the thing was actually made, 6/10 for enjoyment, because I thought it was a little boring,” or vice versa, and such. Very rarely do his two scores match. This bothers me for a variety of reasons – the first being that I subscribe to the idea that art is always subjective, and can’t have a “set” level of good or bad. As a consequence, if you like something, you must inherently find some level of value in it. I tried to tell him this, but he insists on going about thinking of things the previous way, and while I respect that, I definitely let him know that I disagreed.

Then, one day, I was looking for the dates that the manga I followed would get new volumes (in English), and, Assassination Classroom being one of them, I found the date for volume 21.  

“Oh,” I said, “this is the last one? That makes me a little sad.”

Then I saw the cover (pictured above.)

As you can see, it depicts Class E standing around their mountaintop classroom, observing the beautiful night sky… and one of them is pointing up at Koro Sensei’s (their teacher) face, imprinted in the stars.

If you're unfamiliar with Assassination Classroom, it's a manga (Japanese comic) series about a group of drop-out eighth graders who find themselves held hostage by an alien creature after he blows up the moon into a permanent crescent. This creature, who can move at mach 20 speed and transform his body at will, says that they have the school year to learn how to kill him, and if they can't, he'll destroy the Earth. Along the way, we learn that this creature (named Koro Sensei by his class, after the Japanese word for "kill") is not a monster at all, but a wonderful teacher, who, despite being able to always thwart their assassination attempts, does not want to hurt anyone -- he only wants to pass on his knowledge to kids that believe life has left them behind before his inevitable death.

In many ways that people get wake-up calls in their life, this volume's cover, for whatever reason, hit me like a ton of bricks. It’s over. Assassination Classroom has ended. I guess the pointers were always there; the students had only a single school year to succeed in their goal in assassinating Koro Sensei, and it’s not like time doesn’t pass (unless you’re Ash). But the thing is, it’s a Shonen Jump action manga. A cheesy, dorky, stupid comic about a bunch of kids trying to kill their alien teacher, and they were set up for failure in every chapter with his insane superpowers and their childish antics. So, despite reading so much, I never really paid mind to the idea that the series would truly… end.

And up until now, I looked at Assassination Classroom with relative fondness, but no real critical praise. It’s just alright. What you expect to happen happens. Good triumphs evil. Boob jokes. Crazy superpowers. "It's entertaining."

What I didn’t realize is how the story filled my life with things I could hold on to. I can’t say I’ve truly had issues making friends, but I certainly had issues fitting in. Going to class every day from grades 6-12 was a trip to stress-town, and in that state of mind, there’s the need for little “ropes” we can easily grasp. One of those ropes were my friends, who, despite the teasing and the bullshit, were there when I needed them. Another one of those ropes were the teachers who cared. We’ve all had ones that don’t – but the ones that do will do anything to help their students, be it with their grades, with their personal problems, or anything inbetween. That’s what educators are truly there for.

And of course, another little “rope,” was my favorite things to read.

The manga encompassed all of that. Stories about friendship twelve ways to Sunday -- touching, heartfelt stories about a teacher and his students, and silliness that reminded us of the good things in life -- and all of them delivered to the me in a comfortable, engaging way to read.

I guess finally understanding that Koro Sensei was going to die set in stone the shift in my life from high school to college – teen to adult. I won’t have those friends in my class anymore. I won’t have those teachers in my college professors, and as much as it’s making me just about to burst into tears writing it, someday soon, I won’t have Koro Sensei and his hilarious class anymore to escape to when the “ropes” in my life have, for whatever reason, been tugged away from me.

All good things must come to an end. And bad things too. Nothing lasts forever.

Likewise, absolutely having to have everything be critically flawless in order to enjoy it is a mindset I can’t fully subscribe to anymore.

It's still so clear to me -- the day I stumbled upon a series in my bookstore about a mysterious creature that destroyed the moon, and threatened to do the same to Earth if the under-appreciated Class E didn’t kill him first. In good times and bad times, I read about that creature teaching his class how to grow as human beings. I read about those kids acing their entrance exams, just as I was finishing my own high school experience. And as some of the most important friendships in my life drift away and I learn to truly become an adult, I read the second to last volume and... well, I won't ruin it here, but if the series has taken hold of you like it did me, you'll need some tissues.

This story helped me cope with so many things in my adolescence. Other stories are too heavy for times of stress. Others are just not even worth your patience in the best of times. But when I sat down and read Assassination Classroom, I knew Koro Sensei’s face would make me laugh. I knew the students would try, (and fail) to kill him, but they’d always learn something new, and improve on their former selves. True, they can somehow become better athletes than most Olympians in just a year, rebuild a school in a weekend, and even be sent to space and back, but I just don’t care. When I was feeling shitty because of something someone said, when I just finished my homework and wanted a break, and even when I just had a rough day and needed to laugh, I knew that big, dumb, yellow smile would be waiting for me. At the end of the day, that’s really all I was asking for.

Assassination Classroom was different. And now, it’s over. 

Nothing can replace it.