"At once hilarious and achingly melancholy, Mooncop ] reads like a requiem for the future we were promised decades ago that never arrived. A quietly essential read for anyone who grew up reading sci-fi." Wired
"Living on the moon .Read more...
"At once hilarious and achingly melancholy, Mooncop] reads like a requiem for the future we were promised decades ago that never arrived. A quietly essential read for anyone who grew up reading sci-fi." Wired
"Living on the moon . . . Whatever were we thinking? . . . It seems so silly now."
The lunar colony is slowly winding down, like a small town circumvented by a new super highway. As our hero, the Mooncop, makes his daily rounds, his beat grows ever smaller, the population dwindles. A young girl runs away, a dog breaks off his leash, an automaton wanders off from the Museum of the Moon.
Mooncop is equal parts funny and melancholy. capturing essential truths about humanity and making this a story of the past, present, and future, all in one. Like his Guardian and New Scientist strips, as well as his previous graphic novel, Goliath, Mooncop is told with Tom Gauld's distinctive, matter-of-fact storytelling and dry humor an approach that has earned him fans around the world."
Publishers Weekly® Reviews
- Reviewed in: Publishers Weekly, page .
- Review Date: 2016-07-25
- Reviewer: Staff
Like a Jim Jarmusch view of a fiercely inglorious future, this cool, serene, and funny graphic novel imagines what outer orbit life might be like many decades after it’s an accepted fact. A nameless mooncop patrols the flat lunar plains amid an ever-deepening sense of ennui. He achieves a 100% success rate on his reports because there is no crime to report, investigate, or solve. One of the original settlers confides in him that, like many others, she’s leaving their shrinking colony: “Whatever were we thinking? It seems rather silly now.” Gauld (You’re All Just Jealous of My Jetpack) plays with this sense of “Now what?” in a manner that is almost as bleak as the modular retro-1950s structures and spacesuits rendered by his stripped-down, blue-tinged artwork. But the deadpan humor leavens the hopelessness that sometimes threatens to overwhelm the anonymous policeman, who’s just happy to see his automated doughnut machine replaced by a café with an honest-to-goodness human waitress. (Sept.)