"Judge not, that ye be not judged"

I'm not one for writing book reviews; as much as I have an unhealthy obsession with reading, I'm always loathe to share the full depth of my opinion of a book with the wider world. If I haven't enjoyed a story, far be it for me to attempt to colour someone else's opinion who may well find something in it that I never could. And if I want to recommend a book, I can't assume that, just because whatever I've just read has made me giddy with excitement, that everyone else should automatically agree with me. The way we experience what we read is fluid; it's influenced by what we've read before, what's happening in our lives, what's happened in our lives, our values, our culture. My unique experience of a book is, by definition, unlikely to match your unique experience. This is why on this blog you'll be forced to read love letters to books themselves and about how reading forms an integral part of my diet, but no reviews.

I am, however, about to break my own principle. Of all the things I've read since I started this blog, the novel that's been coming to bed with me, accompanying me on the Tube, and lying in the park at my feet over the past five days is one that has caused me to finally break my silence. About half way through reading it, I knew I'd feel compelled to share my opinion once I'd read the final few words, closed the covers, and fanned through the pages before putting it down. I seek to not only make sense of my own experience of reading it, but for the first time to hopefully inspire others.

First, in the interest of full disclosure, a little background information about the writer who is now seeking to influence you. I am prone to navel gazing. I have been known to be quite intense, favouring conversations of abstract concepts, surrealism or witty banter over practical topics. I dabble in inappropriate innuendos. I enjoy unpicking underlying themes and connecting seemingly unrelated events in stories (not in a 'conspiracy nut' way, but in an English teacher 'foreshadows' way).  I wear contact lenses. I occasionally get serious bouts of acne. These two latter pieces of information mean that, if it wasn't for the wonders of optometry and skincare, I'd be a spotty four-eyed girl (sexy, I know. It's the song Van Morrison should have written). All this, as you will see, is highly relevant to my review.

The novel I've just finished could have floated the Titanic after the iceberg. Okay so perhaps I also dabble in hyperbole and inappropriate references, but you get the gist. Here's a quick checklist of some of the themes and references that had me grinning inanely to myself:

• The argument for intelligent design, also known as the Watchmaker Analogy
• Questions of free will and determinism related to our actions now and in the future (and in the past if you want to be pedantic)
• Arguments of morality and what it is that makes human 'human'
• How branding and consumerism relates to societal upheaval and customer buying habits
• The arguments for and against nuclear deterrents
• Questions of when it is appropriate to intervene in military conflicts
• The vagaries of celebrity culture
• How sentiment analysis can provide insight into public opinion and used as a decision-making tool
• The causal relationship between the media and public opinion
• The importance of adopting a wider view of the world around us, and the impact of acting without having full knowledge

In fact, here's a quote from the novel itself on the miracle of each of our's existence:

"… in each human coupling, a thousand million sperm vie for a single egg. Multiply those odds by countless generations, against the odds of your ancestors being alive, meeting, siring this precise son, that exact daughter… until your mother loves a man… and of that union, of the thousand million children competing for fertilisation, it was you, only you, that emerged…. But the world is so full of people, so crowded, with these miracles that they become commonplace and we forget… We gaze continually at the world and it grows dull in our perceptions. Yet seen from another's vantage point, as if new, it may still take the breath away."

And yet, I had to be forcibly cajoled into picking up this book. In fact, I'd go further than that. I was effectively 'double-teamed' into reading it by two people who were inappropriately passionate about it. One of them felt compelled to give me an ad hoc crash course in the history of the novel and the genre (you, yes you. I hope your punishment of being made to sit on the grass has taught its lesson). I found myself having to defend how I'd managed to read Fifty Shades of Grey before reading the novel in question (1 star on Goodreads ladies and gents, and it was only read because the Kindle edition was so cheap and I was on holiday). My response was the result of the quickest piece of thinking I think I've ever done: I'd resisted Fifty Shades on principle, only caving because I knew I'd be able to read it in 24 hours with little effort and then move on with my life. This novel, however, I was not resisting on principle but because I knew that when I finally got round to reading it I'd have to focus a considerable amount of attention to it. I'd not yet found myself in a frame of mind that would allow me to pay it the care it deserved.

You'll notice that thus far I've managed to skilfully avoid providing the name of this amazing, deep, intellectually stimulating story. This is deliberate. It's a book that I was embarrassed to bring out in public, to read on the Tube. I had to keep telling myself that I have resolved to embrace new experiences and things this year, and for god's sake, man up, it's just a book.

So now for the big reveal.

The book that I've spend this week reading was one that popped my comic book cherry.

It was Watchmen.

The two people who had been haranguing me to read it were two boys with glasses. When I discreetly pulled the book out to a colleague who works in IT, his face lit up like a child on Christmas Day (… or like a comic book reader who's just discovered the possibility that all around him women are hiding copies of Watchmen in their handbags).

Despite my quick-thinking argument about why I hadn't managed to read it yet, I'd been resisting reading Watchmen on the grounds that I was cynical, and thought it was just a book full of superheroes beating each other up and gratuitous sex. This was mainly based on my repressed memory of watching Watchmen the film, but also based on every stereotype of comic books and comic book readers you've ever heard. I had to remind myself that I like to think of myself as an open-minded individual, who doesn't have a leg to stand on when it comes to accusations of being a geek (including the spots/glasses image).

As you can probably tell by now, I genuinely enjoyed it (she says through gritted teeth). The themes and references that came out had me smiling in pleasant surprise more times than I care to remember. Those that I've picked out above are just the ones that stood out for me. I'm sure someone else reading it would take something else away. The writing was indeed beautiful on more than on occasion. In several places there are three different layers to the story positioned next to each other in a single frame, told by a narrative, dialogue and picture from three completely different parts of the story. This allows a depth of complexity of meaning that you would struggle to achieve in a normal novel, as the three different contexts play against each other. As a result, it engaged me in a way that not many other books have done. And whilst there wasn't a single frame that involved scenes of embarrassingly explicit sex, there was enough clever word play to keep me happy.

As I was enjoying the story more and more, I found myself wondering why it was that I was struggling to read it in public. What was I afraid of? Judgment from strangers that I'll never see again? A fear that people would make assumptions about me based on the connotations associated with reading a comic book? Why did I feel the need to look particularly suave and well-dressed/groomed whilst I was reading it? I came to the conclusion that it was the fact that the pages are dominated by the art of the novel, and it wasn't a style that sat easily with me. I didn't find the imagery particularly pleasing, not in content but in form. Of course, appreciation of art in any of its guises is subjective. With my head I can appreciate the skill with which the artwork of Watchmen has been executed. With my heart I feel it caused a tension in my enjoyment of the book.

I know now for a fact that this won't be my last graphic novel (a question to connoisseurs: is there a difference between a comic book and a graphic novel? I'm assuming yes but shall use them interchangeably here, protected by my naive ignorance). Particularly as an ill-advised journey to Waterstones earlier this week saw me casually glancing over the shop's selection to see what else is out there. There were some interesting-looking titles, including ones related to the conflicts we read about in the news. I also figured I'm an avid lover of Christopher Nolan's Batman trilogy, I adore the themes that come out in V for Vendetta, so why not embrace the format that these were originally written for.

And so my dear reader, I ask one favour of you, from one non-comic book reader to another. If you've never read a graphic novel but you're a lover of books, and enjoy being challenged by what you read and made to think, then put aside all your preconceived ideas, all your judgments, all you thought you knew about comic books and those that read them. Embrace the theme of this blog, which is to nurture your curiosity. Find yourself a copy of a graphic novel that you think you'll enjoy (I've been reliably informed that V for Vendetta is probably a better cherry-popper than Watchmen). Perhaps don't take it out in public if you're not yet ready, but put it by your bed and, when no-one else is looking, safely hidden under your duvet covers and with a torch, open up the pages and be prepared to dive into a world you may find it hard to turn away from.

Couldn't help but share this one