We have Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz as a straight-talking nymph southern belle, Alice from her Wonderland as the older, more experienced (and somewhat initially bitter and cold) lesbian tour-deforce, and then Wendy, from Peter Pan and the Lost Boys, who despite having several wild adventures of her own has become a repressed English housewife. This is, until the lost girls meet.

In signature Moore fashion, we have fictional characters originating from the pen of other and separate creators merging in a shared universe. We saw this in the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, and with the same fastidious detail, we see it again here.  I picked up on some of the references, but knowing Moore and his work, I am positive there are more levels in the work to explore. This, in itself, adds a layer that makes the book worth re-reading, if not at least re-examining. You would hope for some re-reading potential considering the hefty cover price.  Retailing at fifty pounds may come across a bit stiff (excuse the double entendre, but when in Rome...) but when you lay eyes on the beautiful, luscious, well above standard presentation of this 3-book-hardback-in-case-work you may just be able to justify this guilty pleasure as a purchase.

Guilty pleasures seem to be something that the books are riding on, and questions throughout our struggle to define what is right and wrong, in reality and in fantasy. Is there consequence in fantasy? Is it okay to imagine yourself having sex with a horse, while your father watches, his vision obscured only by what ‘activity’ he is already engaging in with your brother?  These things are repellent in reality, but are they okay in a fantasy? Is it okay to be turned on by these things if you don’t act on them?  Our protagonists consider this throughout, and the question of whether or not it is suitable to print and make works of fiction and art on this subject matter is raised within the book itself, when the subtext becomes central to the story. This would seem to self-justify the publication of the work itself. This is a nice trick by an author when dealing with such sticky subject matter.

Another nice trick that Moore admitted when he and Gabbier held a talk to discuss their work at the V&A (on Friday November 14th last year) was calling their work pornography themselves. This had an adverse affect from telling the world that the work was erotic art. This inevitably would cause suspicion and controversy and labels of evil, deprived, and pornography. By telling the world that it was porn, the readers simply took it for that, but perhaps reading the work see how nicely contextualized, well constructed the story is, and how cared for the characters are. Like I said, it is a nice trick. These characters are cared for and looked after as much Doctor Manhattan and V. They are not simply illustrations from an English seaside tatty and arise postcard that is used as a byway for the viewer to get their nuts off. Not that getting your nuts off is off-limits when reading ‘Lost Girls’ – it appears to be thoroughly encouraged!

To the illustrations and artwork itself, I admit to not being previously over familiar with Melinda Gebbies’s work, but I enjoyed fully discovering it in this three book volume. She has a brilliant, feminine use and sense of colour, and this lends itself beautifully to the kind of illustrations that lean towards the appearances of the characters in their original context. Yes, this is porn (sorry, erotic art) in a luscious, children’s story book format, a nice artistic clash provided by the juxtapose of style and content. In places I found the artwork does not flow easily, like the best examples of well paced comic book storytelling.  I am not sure if the ornate nature of the style makes it appear static, or if the pacing of panels is just not right – it is cloudy here, but the strength of the work lies in some wonderfully sumptuous illustrations and compositions that shine in this large format. Some would be suitable wall poster material (the detail and definition is so fine), if not for the nature of the subject matter.

What I found interesting at the V&A talk was the relationship as creative and life partners on this project – what it was and how it changed. It seemed this has brought them closer together, considering some of the sexual aspects covered in the book; it makes sense that these two partners and creators had to open up and be frank about some very personal ideas and fantasies. That, in itself, added an extra layer to the experience for me. The books do question our relationships with sex and fantasy, and those we love (or at least proclaim to) and lust for, and we think about them, and how we behave with and towards them.

‘Lost Girls’ provides plenty of food for sometimes uncomfortable thought. A literary curiosity, it does what some good books do – it challenges perceptions. A worthy addition to any fans collection, the presentation itself provides a talking point, before you even get to some of the jaw dropping content.  If you are wondering if a ‘Lost Girls’ movie is on the cards, the creative couple have already been approached, and thankfully (after admittedly some consideration and thought) declined. Some art simply suits only the original of its form. This is a storybook based on storybooks – updated and grown up, as it should be.