Alan Moore’s V For Vendetta is a force in the world of comics. Its message, art, and story resonate decades after the story’s serial run in the 1980s. Today, compiled into a single volume, it still packs a punch. V For Vendetta remains as relevant and powerful as ever, and it’s an action-packed story, to boot.
The book is set in a dystopian UK in the 1990s. The fascist government, Norsefire, rules every aspect of human life following a cataclysmic world war. Members of minority groups, dissenters, and enemies of the state are sent to “re-education” camps. V, the iconic character on the cover wearing a Guy Fawkes mask, wreaks havoc on Norsefire and its agents by undermining their authority, killing key members, and destroying resources. He rescues young Evey Hammond from a dangerous encounter with government stooges and begins to teach her his ways, though cryptically. Throughout, we learn small bits about V’s history, particularly his time at the Larkhill Concentration Camp.
Alan Moore hits hard and fast. His work lampoons harmful ideologies. It philosophizes on the dregs of human malice and picks apart our worst impulses. V For Vendetta takes these ideas to a grand scale by pitting V, a symbol of anarchism, against a fascist regime. The two extremes clash time and again in the novel, while normal citizens hang in the balance. It’s easy to jeer the fascist government and its cronies—especially in 2025. But V, in his way, is a character you want to cheer for. He presents himself as an anathema to Norsefire’s dystopian lunacy. When he blows up a Norsefire building, you might find yourself rooting for him. I certainly did.
And yet, I had to ask myself, “Why?” Moore (with his words) and Lloyd (with his illustrations) do a fantastic job of making V equal parts relatable and obtuse. He’s obscured by the mask, but his ideas pierce the veil of fascist authority. Flashbacks of V’s experiences at Larkhill make it easy to slot him into a protagonist role. He has lost friends, family, and his entire livelihood. He was experimented on and tortured as though he wasn’t human. It’s cause for sympathy, no doubt. But when he goes on an anarchist rampage and murders dozens in the name of his cause, you must question whether he’s the hero. He manipulates Evey to a degree that could be labelled psychological torture. He deploys explosives without regard for the surrounding victims.
The result is a book without clear-cut heroes or villains. Instead, V For Vendetta has actions and their consequences. V the person could be anybody, but V’s choices and actions are tangible in the real world. You, like me, might wonder who’s behind the mask. You might breeze through the pages in the hopes of that satisfying reveal. V For Vendetta’s truth goes deeper than that. The man behind the mask doesn’t matter so much as the ideas he proliferates, be they good or bad.
In the end, V For Vendetta is an unmasking—not of a person, but of our collective ideas and their consequences in the lives of very real people trying to get by. Who do we stand with, and why? V For Vendetta wants us to ask that question, and it doesn’t intend to give us the answer.
Rating: V For Vendetta – 8.5/10
