Tag Archives: Juan Jose Ryp

Alan Moore’s Another Suburban Romance

Hermetic Library Fellow T Polyphilus reviews Alan Moore’s Another Suburban Romance by Alan Moore, illustrated by Juan Jose Ryp.

Moore Alan Moore's Another Suburban Romance

This book contains more black-and-white comics adaptations from Alan Moore’s non-comics oeuvre, in the vein of his Magic Words. This time, the three components are all parts of a single (though rather discontinuous) performance piece, and all of the art is by Juan Jose Ryp. 

The first segment “Judy Switched Off the TV” is a little ho-hum. I think I would have enjoyed either the text or the illustrations better if they had not been together, simply because the pictures were such a literal translation of the words. Either one would be surreal, but in combination they seemed mechanical.

The second and longest portion “Old Gangsters Never Die” has more substance, but the sense of the pictures being completely at the service of the words is still there. This failing is of course ironic, since talented comics writer Moore’s writing for comics generally avoids this particular fault.

Moore himself is depicted as the central character of the final episode “Another Suburban Romance.” In this case, the text is sufficiently sparse, and the creative inclusion of Moore’s portraits is helpfully destabilizing, so that the art feels much more rewarding. All of the illustrations in this section are full-page panels or two-page spreads, which allow Ryp’s maniacal level of detail to be shown to full advantage.

Alan Moore’s Magic Words

Hermetic Library Fellow T Polyphilus reviews Alan Moore’s Magic Words by Alan Moore, illustrated by Juan Jose Ryp, with introduction (in the deluxe edition) by Warren Ellis.

Moore Alan Moore's Magic Words

Magic Words is a short anthology of Alan Moore’s song lyrics and brief poetry, adapted for comics by an able assortment of artists. Unlike Moore’s arm’s-length relationship to the cinematic transformations of his work, he is credited here as a “consulting editor.” 

This project bears comparison to the adaptation of Moore’s Light of Thy Countenance, which I have read previously. The production values are lower here (only black and white for the interior art), but despite the variable quality of the individual pieces in Magic Words, the best of them certainly surpass Light of Thy Countenance in exploiting the comics medium. 

In particular, the illustrations for “14.2.99” add a further layer of meaning to the text that is still sympathetic with it. On the downside, the art on the title page of that piece (which appears similarly on the inside back cover) was evidently drawn as a 2-page landscape spread, but has been rotated 90° to fit onto a single page, losing the orientation and confusing the rich detail of Juan Jose Ryp’s fine portrait of teledildonic rapture.

The artists here are all clearly sympathetic to Moore’s larger themes and ambitions–and they were probably thrilled to have the opportunity to work with his texts. Illustrators Vicente Cifuentes and Alfredo Torres bring into play the Moon & Serpent motif that is central to Moore’s magical cultus, even while adapting texts that don’t specify it. The lead item, Jacen Burrow’s rendition of “The Hair of the Snake that Bit Me,” features it by necessity.

The book concludes with what amounts to a set of liner notes and an audio discography. Besides documenting Moore’s musical and performing history, this article provides some broad outlines of his claimed magical attainment: Neophyte to Magus in a six-year period concluding on April 11, 2002.

The aggregate result may be trivial for a casual reader, but it is very engaging for someone familiar with the esoteric elements of Moore’s work.