It perfectly fits the spooky season, this book. No, that's wrong. From Hell is more than just a book. From Hell is a sanguine-soaked ritual, a thing imbued with a kind of magic that leaps off of the page and transcends its own narrative. I may be getting ahead of myself a bit, but ironically for such a bloody comic there's not a drop of red to be seen. We are once again in the presence of nothing but black and white, but goddamn is it effective. Eddie Campbell's artistry shines here, as there's this hasty scribbled vibe to the proceedings. It is all well-defined, but something about the way Victorian London is drawn in moody shadow, and the way the text looks, suggests this sort of freestyling nature. I have a better word for it. It's chaotic. Chaotic energy abounds in this book, this ritual... but we must hold it off for a few moments longer to define the structure. I'd like to try and talk about something I haven't been able to nail down on these challenges yet. I want to talk about panelling. I want to talk about... The Grid.
When I think of Alan Moore and grids, my mind goes to Watchmen. We're not talking about that particular renegade ritual right now in specifics, but it's just where my mind goes. Let us try to define the power of the grid, in brief, and what stood out about it in From Hell. When it comes to analyzing panelling, I think back to Unflattening, and how it uses the power of sequential imaging to cohere together into a while. The grid does the same thing, and it can vary. Sometimes it's 3 by 3. Sometimes 3 by 2, with one long panel in the middle or at the bottom. The best way to think of how the grid impresses me in From Hell is to compare it to the language of cinema. The panel and the grid are the comic equivalent of the shot and how it is edited, its angles and closeups and all of that. That a usual 3 by 3 advances the story in nine bursts on the page is obvious. It's when the grid does more than that which interests me. There's a scene with the discovery of the first murder, where the "shot" is static and we see different people come into the "frame" each time, reacting to the horror or calling the police or some such. Time is passing, but we remain on that shot. Another memorable bit is when one character is recalling the harsh words another said to them. The same panel repeated, three times in one row of the grid. Replaying the interaction over and over in his head. There's a power to that, a power far beyond just 6 or 9 sequential images building the story on the page. Arrange them as such, with care and craft, and the story is given form.
What a story, though. I called From Hell more than a story. I called it a ritual. It is not just the "true account" of the Jack The Ripper murders in Victorian London. It is far more than just the secret history of the royal family ordering the deaths of prostitutes in order to protect its own interests. The story is the ritual, and the ritual is performed by our ripper, William Gull. Gull, the occultist and freemason who is convinced that his killing spree is not just a killing spree, but a magical ritual to bring about the future. The entire book is imbued with this darkness, every black page in which women's throats are cut and inky blood flows free. Of particular note is Chapter 4, which consists entirely of William Gull and his assistant Netley taking a carriage ride around London as Gull points out various landmarks and their magical significance. This is psychogeography, pure and simple. Psychogeography is a practice which inspired one Dr. Elizabeth Sandifer, and her work in turn is the reason why I am here. In sheer horror, I realize that I'm caught within Gull's magic circle. I'm part of this. Gull, in his monstrous ritual, sees visions of what will come. Visions of CRTs and computers and modern pop culture. Gull's dark work, and by extension From Hell itself, are a magical ritual to bring about the 20th century, and he succeeds.
The penultimate chapter is the apotheosis of all this, the moment where Gull ascends into something more horrible and terrifying than just a surgeon who cut apart innocent women. We have spoken on this blog of ascensions before. Madoka Kaname becoming a goddess of healing. Sam Beckett becoming the concept of putting right what once went wrong. Here we see the dark flip side of this. Sure, we saw Homura Akemi become the devil (not on this blog though, one day I will write about Rebellion) but this is something far more macrocosmic in scope. Gull becomes history here, and he becomes something which spreads over the British Isles. They say you never truly die until the last time someone speaks your name. Here we are, 140 years later, and we still speak the name of Jack The Ripper. Gull has become an immortal thing, a malicious idea, and this comic book shows it. He's Mr. Hyde, Peter Sutcliffe, a Blakean nightmare, and so much more. Let's turn a phrase I've made popular here to define him. William Gull becomes eternal. He becomes the Dark Heart Of Britain.
And yet, in the final moments of his fucked-up ascension, a rejection. A vision of girls who bear the names of his victims, and their caretaker who banishes him away with but a word. What does this mean? I think it means that Gull does not completely succeed in his ritual here. As we said, you never die until the last time your name is spoken. That goes for Jack The Ripper, yes... but consider that the names of his victims are also a part of the ritual, also still spoken, also given immortality 140 years later. Consider that, within the ley lines of the grid, these girls are given focus and agency and their own fears and anxieties. I'm hardly much of a magician or alchemist, but if I'm trapped within the circle, I can still invoke the power of names. Mary Kelly, Polly Nichols, Anne Chapman, Liz Stride, Catherine Eddowes. We remember them still, Jack. They became a part of your ritual, but they gained a power of their own. Power enough to banish you back where you came from. Where?
From hell, of course. You delivered the 20th century, yes. The 20th century is over. Time to fade away with the other ghosts, Jack. Time to break the circle.
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