This is perhaps the most profound soap opera in the world. It’s not about a plot – the roommates are not going to run from the cops or toss the ring into Mount Doom. Rather, it’s about intertwining lives, and most often defined by either love or friendship between people. Katchoo has been in love with Francine since their teens, but Francine may not even be gay, let alone recognize Katchoo’s affection; David enters the picture, falls for Katchoo, and while Katchoo feels something for him, it’s clear Francine dominates her heart; Francine, meanwhile, dates a string of men who are no good for her; and things spiral from there.
What’s profound about that? It’s not in the challenging of heteronormative romance, or the effortless depiction of someone in unconscious questioning of her own sexuality, but in every stage of their relationships. Moore builds characters out of moments most of us don’t even think to record; the overreaction of a friend to your heartbreak, or hiding lust in playful banter, or all those crucial times when the day made us focus on one thing so that we entirely missed the other. There are at least two times in this volume where characters are distracted by serious problems, put into believable mindsets, and then entirely miss out on what might have been the loves of their lives because they overlooked signals. It hurts that your few opportunities at love can be that delicate sometimes, but it’s worth capturing them, every bit as much as capturing the humor of leaving a used tampon as a protest in the hands of a misogynist statue. That happens, too.
There is plot. There is big honking, "You stole my mob money, my goons are going to shoot you" plot, and it's great at shaking up the status quo. It certainly fits with the soap opera motif, down to one character (dramatically) turning out to be the sibling of the villain. And honestly, I could have done without it. I (and likely, a much smaller audience than Moore actually attracted) would have happily read a domestic series that was solely about these endearingly flawed, confused and funny people trying to make life work better. Nothing in the police procedurals, or even the eventual rush of a protagonist to the hospital, matches the attachment of simply watching Katchoo's old friend slip away in a long and quiet sequence.
I’d praise Moore just for his storycraft, but there’s much more ambition to the series than that. Our first chapter resembles a friendly Comedy, where a lesbian fails to date her (seemingly hetero) best friend, her best friend is emotionally abused by her boyfriend, and so the lesbian sets out to ruin him as payback. It’s somewhat lighthearted, yet not many pages later we enter a deeply mournful, low-dialogue story about a loved one dying of AIDS. This is only the beginning of Moore’s experiments, as he shifts how sequential works, sometimes putting his dialogue in all lower case, or mixing up where the word balloons are, or abandons them entirely and leaves us to guess who is speaking based on what they say. One tense section features bits of a character’s poem running along the bottom of the pages, not intruding on the sequence, but allowing bits of rumination to seep in if you want them. There are a few pages midway into this volume where it turns into a prose short story, pulpy down to its paragraph structure, telling the perspective of a detective on a case related to the women. Not all of the experiments work – the short story is choppy even by pulp standards – but the sheer ambition merits progression.
For all that experimentation, Moore exhibits mastery over simple sequential narrative. There’s a three-panel spread of a kidnapper reading something, the victim smirking and asking something derisive, and lastly the kidnapper looking up with a full-faced expression that is pregnant with character. There’s detail in and under the cheeks that few other artists barely ever remember to draw.
Just like that ability to focus on singular responses and details in his art, over and over again Moore displays a sense for what matters in the lives of his characters. Companionship, friendly, romantic, or much messier, is what makes this world go around. Why do people shut each other out? How can we help each other through our flaws, and which ones are worth overlooking? No character is a role model for progressive behavior, but the heart behind our leads is something fiction and non-fiction could learn from.