Your next favourite graphic novel: “Transmetropolitan”

Mmmkey, long time no see, huh? I am on a “reading-spree” this week. Chasing after good books, I turned to “connoisseurs”. So I picked through the virtual shelves of DCM and found at least 20 interesting titles, about which I’ll probably start writing soon. Among them, the “Transmetropolitan” series.

“No way, man!”, I said, when I found that the first volume (out of 10) would be about the story of a journalist. The media sphere never impressed me, as it’s always been too preoccupied about scandal and sensationalism and too little about reality.

It seems that the main character, Spider Jerusalem, agrees with me on this one. Reality shocks more than Can-Can magazine, especially in Warren Ellis creations!

Spider, this guy wearing heterochromic glasses,  kind of reminds me of Jesus, or better yet, he is a badass version of a missionary who wants to bring the stinking truths of a cyberpunk metropolis to the surface.

How? A diarrhea spreading gun, a bodyguard with insane boobs and a perspicacious nurse look like some remarkable weapons. Filthy, smoking hot Lill ‘babes!

I empathize with the main character, because he dissects the world and analyzes every drop of phlegm and pus in life, just as I would do in a morgue. Spider is a forensic doctor for the metropolis he lives in. And it seems he doesn’t miss anything at the autopsy!

If I still haven’t convinced you to read this novel, I’ll give you some quotes that will definitely impress you:

Spider Jerusalem: A Kenyan man once said to me, “you can get used to everything when money’s involved.” He used to stick mice up his ass for twenty bucks a time.

Spider Jerusalem: You people don’t know what the truth is! It’s there, just under their bullshit, but you never look! That’s what I hate most about this fucking city – lies are news and the truth is obsolete!

Spider Jerusalem: So this Zealot comes to my door, all glazed eyes and clean reproductive organs, asking me if I ever think about God. So I tell him I killed God. I tracked God down like a rabid dog, hacked off his legs with a hedge trimmer, raped him with a corncob, and boiled off his corpse in an acid bath. So he pulls an alternating-current taser on me and tells me that only the Official Serbian Church of Tesla can save my polyphase intrinsic electric field, known to non-engineers as “the soul”. So I hit him. What would you do?

Tico Cortez: Ah, Spider’s a dirty bastard and a moral vacuum, but you couldn’t have a better friend.

Spider Jerusalem: One day I’m going to drop a bomb on this City. A contraceptive bomb.

Spider Jerusalem: [on his ex-wife] Never trust anything that bleeds for four days but doesn’t die.

Spider Jerusalem: That’s what a monoculture is. It’s everywhere, and it’s all the same. And it takes up alien cultures and digests them and shits them out in a homogenous building-block shape that fits seamlessly into the vast blank wall of the monoculture. This is the future. This is what we built. This is what we wanted. It must have been. Because we all had the fucking choice, didn’t we? It is only our money that allows commercial culture to flower. If we didn’t want to live like this, we could have changed it any time, by not fucking paying for it. So let’s celebrate by all going out and buying the same burger.

‘Nuff said. Start reading!


Cultartes Collaborator Andreea Livia Lupșa

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