Alan Moore's Lost Treasures - #6 in a 6 Part Limited Series

“The Bowing Machine”

The third issue of Raw (volume two), the digest-sized final collection of Art Spiegelman’s art comix series, is the best single volume of a comics anthology ever published. Included among the book’s extraordinary contents are Spiegelman’s own penultimate chapter of Maus: A Survivor’s Tale, a classic 32 page excerpt of George Herriman’s Krazy Kat (the famous “Tiger Tea” sequence), an exquisite Gary Panter sketchbook, “Thrilling Adventure Stories,” the first glimpse of the genius that was to come from Chris Ware, “Proxy,” a highly under-appreciated collaboration between novelist Tom DeHaven and Richard Sala, and Kim Deitch’s masterpiece, “The Boulevard of Broken Dreams.” The anthology also includes strong pieces from Lynda Barry, Muñoz and Sampayo, Drew Friedman, Marti, Justin Green, Kaz, and several lesser-known but equally talented European artists, not to mention the brilliantly sarcastic R. Crumb cover. With such an impressive lineup, it’s easy to see how a little story by Alan Moore got forgotten in the mix.

Yet “The Bowing Machine,” Moore’s unlikely collaboration with Amy and Jordan creator, Mark Beyer, is among the highlights of this impressive book. The story, which runs all of nine pages, is a subtle exploration of the socio-political tensions that arose between the US and Japan in the early 90s as Japan’s economy returned to international prominence. In the very first panel, Moore’s nameless Japanese protagonist describes, in scathing fashion, the toxic influence that foreign investment has had on Japanese culture: “Ah, there is so much money, rolling west in giant waves of dollar green topped with a silver froth of dimes, to break amongst the broken crab-claws down in Tokyo Bay.” Once again we are immediately confronted with evidence of Moore’s unparalleled grasp of the English language.

The story quickly narrows its focus onto a single rivalry between the narrator and a co-worker, both employees of an unnamed Japanese company, as each struggles to curry the favor of their superiors that they may ascend the corporate ladder. The personal competition between these two is a metaphor for the larger competitive tensions that existed between the US and Japan, and Moore plays a note-perfect riff on international politics in the way he depicts these two rivals, each going to ritualistic extremes of politeness in their professional behavior, while secretly harboring a seething mutual hatred for one another.

Eventually the story takes a Steven Millhauser-esque dive into obsession as the protagonist becomes a self-trained master at bowing to his superiors. The importance of the bow as a professional and cultural ritual is keenly understood by the Japanese narrator, but as one of the story’s many newspaper articles describes, “It is not enough to just bow in Japan. The exact angle of the bow must be determined by the nuances and subtle shades of a complex system of social intercourse. But today, as the country continues to absorb the ways of the West, older Japanese are worried that the new generation is losing the gentle art of bowing.” In the narrator’s hands, this simple social grace is once again elevated to a high art, and becomes the foundation upon which he briefly stakes his professional reputation.

But of course, the American rival has no concept of the bow’s importance in traditional Japanese culture, and instead seeks to best his rival by use of technology. He purchases the “bowing machine” in an effort to learn to bow in the same impressive manner as his Japanese rival, never understanding that bowing is a revered cultural tradition, not some mundane skill one can learn on the weekends with a simple machine.

The story ends with a bitter irony when, despite his ignorance, the rival becomes entangled in the bowing machine for several days, and suffers a crippling back injury in which he is permanently bent forward, like some hideous monstrosity. When he returns to work, hunched in his grotesque posture and relegated to a wheelchair, the Japanese narrator realizes he has been bested in their silent competition. His superiors, whether out of pity or admiration, are unable to ignore the immense sacrifice they perceive he made in pursuit of cultural sensitivity, and are moved to promote and favor the tragic figure over his upright, majestically bowing rival. Thus, a grave miscarriage of justice prevails as the accident victim is shown favor and privilege within the corporate culture.

Mark Beyer’s art is an acquired taste. His style is over-simplified and to the untrained eye, may seem childlike and unattractive. But upon closer examination, his panels are deceptively complex. First of all, Beyer makes great use of colors and patterns, using meticulous hatching and shading, as well as bright swaths of primary colors to add tone and texture to his panels. In addition, Beyer rises to the considerable demands of Moore’s script, which calls for several recurring images that inform the story’s underlying themes. In particular, the arcing posture of the bow itself, noted not only in the physical act depicted throughout the story, but also in the breaking arc of the “waves of dollar green,” operates as a visual motif for the cynicism and defeatism of the main character. Beyer also incorporates newspaper articles, both in Japanese and English, to convey a large quantity of story context (including a brief history of the machine’s invention) in a relatively small amount of space. Finally, each page features a shifting series of symmetrical wallpaper patterns, set against stark black backgrounds, adding a distinctively Japanese aesthetic to the story.

In the end, this is one of Alan Moore’s most cynical tales. Its focus on the unspoken bitterness inherent in international politics is a brutal indictment of American arrogance. What lingers most is the final image of the rival, pathetically mangled in his wheelchair. Though victorious, his bastardization of a sacred cultural ritual, not to mention the self-destructive nature of his behavior, makes him a loathsome and disgusting figure. His victory is pathetic and hollow, and, in the story’s larger metaphor, it portrays America as a scrupulous giant, blindly destroying the world in search of the all-important profit. Moore’s final words are scathing in their indictment of America's globalization and the impact it's had on the world.

“Now he has laid himself so low that I can never rise above him.”

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That's it! I really hope you enjoyed this series of posts. If you're still hungry for more Alan Moore short stories, I also recommend checking out:

1) "Brighter Than You Think" - an awesome mini-biography of occultist John Whiteside Parsons, illustrated by Lost Girls collaborator, Melinda Gebbie, which appeared in the anthology Top Shelf Asks the Big Questions.

2) "Tapestries" - a great little story about the horrors of war that appeared in Real War Stories #1 (Eclipse Comics, 1987). Illustrated by Miracleman collaborator, John Totleben (with Stan Woch) and Stephen Bissette.

3) "The Bojeffries Saga" - the majority of this story originally ran as a back-up in Fantagraphics' Dalgoda and Flesh and Bones, and was recently collected by IDW.

4) The New Adventures of the Spirit #1 and 3 - The first issue features a new, full length collaboration with Dave Gibbons, while the third issue contains a short story with stunning illustrations by Daniel Torres. Both issues published by Kitchen Sink Press.