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alibi_shopSwamp Thing #33-45 (1985-86)
Written by Alan Moore, except #33 by Alan Moore/Len Wein
Art by Steve Bissette/John Totleben, except #33 by Bissette/Totleben/Berni Wrightson, #37 by Rick Veitch/Totleben, #38 by Stan Woch/Totleben, #41 by Bissette/Alfredo Alcala, #42 by Bissette/Ron Randall/Totleben, #43 by Woch/Randall, #44 by Randall/Bissette/Totleben, #45 by Woch/Alcala
Moore's first 13 issues clearly took Swamp Thing in a new direction, but in some ways he was still working within what he'd been given: we've seen two apocalyptic threats so far, one science-fictional/ecological and one demonic, and those are both types of conflict that are broadly in line with what you might expect a horror/SF/superhero comic to do. Moore is now starting from a clean slate, with the full support of editor Karen Berger (who arrived partway through the previous arc), and he wants to keep making things weirder.
So it might seem odd that many of the next 13 issues are devoted to one-off or two-part stories of the monster-of-the-month kind, often resembling monsters we've seen in past issues, or even being the exact same ones. There are vampires, there's a werewolf, there are ghosts of slaves, also lots of other ghosts, there's a serial killer, there's... a hobo who drinks nuclear waste, OK well maybe that one is less familiar. What makes these new, besides being better written than before, is not only the extremely unsubtle social commentary* but also the way they're integrated into the ongoing story arc. Basically, there's a conspiracy whose evil plan is not yet clear, but it requires pumping up psychic anxieties in North America—specifically, belief in the supernatural. So, for instance, the more people believe in vampires, regardless of whether vampires really exist (they do), the more there's a problem.
Now, this is partly an excuse for Swampy to hit the road and visit different parts of the country (which he can now easily do, he just has to project his mind somewhere and a new plant body will grow there), and for Moore to express some opinions about America, but at times it's also clearly a commentary on horror itself. Swampy finds himself no longer able to just destroy monsters and call it a day; often he thinks the monsters have a right to do their thing, he only wants to limit the damage. Moore is still of course a great pulp writer and wrings as much Gothic atmosphere as possible out of these stories, which makes quite a contrast with things like the psychedelic love issue (see below)... and that contrast itself becomes part of "Windfall", a fill-in issue about Chester the adorable hippie (later a recurring character) which could've less concisely been called "Two Ways to Read This Series". In "Windfall", Chester finds one of Swampy's psychoactive tubers and lets two people try it: one, who's dying, has beautiful visions of the unity of life*; the other, who's an asshole, re-experiences Alec Holland's fiery death and then starts seeing monsters everywhere. What may not be apparent unless you've read all these comics before is that in the latter case, those monsters are all from past issues of Swamp Thing. That guy is seeing the horror aspect of the comic, while the other person is seeing the cosmic fantasy side. The implication is that if you can't see past how scary the monsters are, then you're... maybe not an asshole like that guy, but at least not getting the big picture.
There are two other major developments along the way. The first is that Abby and Swampy fall in love, which may be a bit predictable since he's now the only other remaining major character and she's been single for all of five minutes, but it's still undeniably sweet. And Moore is determined not to go the expected route of "This can never be, I'm made of moss and you need a real man", so they do in fact get to consummate their relationship—on the astral plane, while she's tripping on the drugs in the yams that grow on him (previously seen in #22 when Woodrue ate one). It's a purely celebratory story with a visually stunning centerpiece, totally unconcerned with plot or suspense. On a more plotty note, we also get the first appearance of John Constantine; more about him later, but the main thing at this point is that he's introduced with no explanation along with half a dozen other characters that we know nothing about, yet Moore manages to show us just enough by implication that we more or less understand how important he must be, and how horrible the problem must be in order to scare him. We also get our first look at an invunche, which I'm going to go out on a limb and say is the scariest thing Rick Veitch has ever drawn. I really don't like to look at that thing. Brr.
The "stuff that other writers will use in Vertigo comics" pile is now getting bigger. Constantine of course, and eventually Matt Cable, and the Bogeyman in #44 (who also provides the idea that serial killers across America are in touch with each other), but especially Cain and Abel who become part of Moore's mythology in #33. That last one wasn't just a case of him randomly thinking "Hmm, DC had horror anthology comic hosts called Cain and Abel—what if we say they are the real Cain and Abel and they live in dreams"; Abel was specifically the host of House of Secrets, where the very first Swamp Thing story appeared in 1971 featuring a different version of the character. Reprinting that whole story as part of #33, Moore declared that not only were the House of Mystery and the House of Secrets now real things, but the original prototype Swamp Thing was too, implying that there may have been lots of them. Will that become important later? Oh, who can say.
Next: Swamp Thing saves the universe and fights the law
Written by Alan Moore, except #33 by Alan Moore/Len Wein
Art by Steve Bissette/John Totleben, except #33 by Bissette/Totleben/Berni Wrightson, #37 by Rick Veitch/Totleben, #38 by Stan Woch/Totleben, #41 by Bissette/Alfredo Alcala, #42 by Bissette/Ron Randall/Totleben, #43 by Woch/Randall, #44 by Randall/Bissette/Totleben, #45 by Woch/Alcala
Moore's first 13 issues clearly took Swamp Thing in a new direction, but in some ways he was still working within what he'd been given: we've seen two apocalyptic threats so far, one science-fictional/ecological and one demonic, and those are both types of conflict that are broadly in line with what you might expect a horror/SF/superhero comic to do. Moore is now starting from a clean slate, with the full support of editor Karen Berger (who arrived partway through the previous arc), and he wants to keep making things weirder.
So it might seem odd that many of the next 13 issues are devoted to one-off or two-part stories of the monster-of-the-month kind, often resembling monsters we've seen in past issues, or even being the exact same ones. There are vampires, there's a werewolf, there are ghosts of slaves, also lots of other ghosts, there's a serial killer, there's... a hobo who drinks nuclear waste, OK well maybe that one is less familiar. What makes these new, besides being better written than before, is not only the extremely unsubtle social commentary* but also the way they're integrated into the ongoing story arc. Basically, there's a conspiracy whose evil plan is not yet clear, but it requires pumping up psychic anxieties in North America—specifically, belief in the supernatural. So, for instance, the more people believe in vampires, regardless of whether vampires really exist (they do), the more there's a problem.
Now, this is partly an excuse for Swampy to hit the road and visit different parts of the country (which he can now easily do, he just has to project his mind somewhere and a new plant body will grow there), and for Moore to express some opinions about America, but at times it's also clearly a commentary on horror itself. Swampy finds himself no longer able to just destroy monsters and call it a day; often he thinks the monsters have a right to do their thing, he only wants to limit the damage. Moore is still of course a great pulp writer and wrings as much Gothic atmosphere as possible out of these stories, which makes quite a contrast with things like the psychedelic love issue (see below)... and that contrast itself becomes part of "Windfall", a fill-in issue about Chester the adorable hippie (later a recurring character) which could've less concisely been called "Two Ways to Read This Series". In "Windfall", Chester finds one of Swampy's psychoactive tubers and lets two people try it: one, who's dying, has beautiful visions of the unity of life*; the other, who's an asshole, re-experiences Alec Holland's fiery death and then starts seeing monsters everywhere. What may not be apparent unless you've read all these comics before is that in the latter case, those monsters are all from past issues of Swamp Thing. That guy is seeing the horror aspect of the comic, while the other person is seeing the cosmic fantasy side. The implication is that if you can't see past how scary the monsters are, then you're... maybe not an asshole like that guy, but at least not getting the big picture.
There are two other major developments along the way. The first is that Abby and Swampy fall in love, which may be a bit predictable since he's now the only other remaining major character and she's been single for all of five minutes, but it's still undeniably sweet. And Moore is determined not to go the expected route of "This can never be, I'm made of moss and you need a real man", so they do in fact get to consummate their relationship—on the astral plane, while she's tripping on the drugs in the yams that grow on him (previously seen in #22 when Woodrue ate one). It's a purely celebratory story with a visually stunning centerpiece, totally unconcerned with plot or suspense. On a more plotty note, we also get the first appearance of John Constantine; more about him later, but the main thing at this point is that he's introduced with no explanation along with half a dozen other characters that we know nothing about, yet Moore manages to show us just enough by implication that we more or less understand how important he must be, and how horrible the problem must be in order to scare him. We also get our first look at an invunche, which I'm going to go out on a limb and say is the scariest thing Rick Veitch has ever drawn. I really don't like to look at that thing. Brr.
The "stuff that other writers will use in Vertigo comics" pile is now getting bigger. Constantine of course, and eventually Matt Cable, and the Bogeyman in #44 (who also provides the idea that serial killers across America are in touch with each other), but especially Cain and Abel who become part of Moore's mythology in #33. That last one wasn't just a case of him randomly thinking "Hmm, DC had horror anthology comic hosts called Cain and Abel—what if we say they are the real Cain and Abel and they live in dreams"; Abel was specifically the host of House of Secrets, where the very first Swamp Thing story appeared in 1971 featuring a different version of the character. Reprinting that whole story as part of #33, Moore declared that not only were the House of Mystery and the House of Secrets now real things, but the original prototype Swamp Thing was too, implying that there may have been lots of them. Will that become important later? Oh, who can say.
Next: Swamp Thing saves the universe and fights the law
