The Filthiest Book Report You’ll Ever Read, or My Artifact Selection: Grant Morrison's The Filth

Grant Morrison’s The Filth is a graphic novel that comes with a warning label. Covering nearly the entire back cover and the first two pages inside, The Filth’s warning is almost clinical in its rigorous coverage of the many reasons you might be better off if you opt to return this book to the shelf. Although the book’s warning is more mocking than genuine, it is still a text any sensible censor would strike from a reading list intended for polite society. With its grungy artwork, repulsive characters, and sadistic plotlines, at first glance The Filth might seem to be a low-culture artifact with no redeeming qualities. However, a more thorough reading turns up questions deserving of further inquiry.

For instance, why is it that the most cherished fantasy the protagonist can dream up for himself is the life of a lonely old man named Greg Feely, who spends his days feeding his beloved cat and masturbating to hardcore pornography? And even if this rehabilitation of the despised archetype of the neighborhood sex offender is for good reason, why is it so important as to merit the novel’s opening panels? From this inauspicious beginning, The Filth continues to wade further into the muck. Rather than complementing Greg Feely with more noble characters, it highlights people like Anders Klimakks, the pornstar famous for shooting black sperm, and Tex Porneau, the wealthy hardcore director who engineers giant sperm monsters for his latest flick. A sex scene is never more than a chapter away, and neither is graphically illustrated violence.

Yet, although The Filth glorifies its own power to provoke disgust in the unsuspecting reader, it is also fascinating. Each sub-plot is carefully constructed to reveal an insight about human nature or the society we have built. The unattractive Greg Feely somehow moves from pathetic to likeable as he grapples with his identity as an agent of the sketchy organization known as the Hand, whose mission is to preserve the Status Q. Even the novel itself is a subject in its far-reaching critique, with an entire storyline premised on drawing attention to the eerie realness of absorbing comic book worlds by repeatedly breaking the fourth wall.

For me, The Filth is interesting because of the complex ideas woven into the words and images that make up the graphic novel. Although the “filthy” subject matter may be titillating, the elusive hypotheticals posed by each of the book’s chapters are far more worthy of study. The first time I flipped through The Filth, I was both appalled and fascinated, unable to look away until I had devoured the entire graphic novel. Subsequent re-readings have not yet failed to uncover new material to ponder, and the opportunity to investigate the text for a class allows me to delve further into these questions.

Although The Filth is not widely recognized by anyone besides comic book aficionados, it is still relevant. Its medium, the graphic novel, is a cornerstone of mass communication. It was published in late 2002, and its commentary actively engages and responds to contemporary society and mainstream culture, if only to subvert them. The author, Grant Morrison, has worked with both DC and Marvel, writing issues of classic series like Spider-Man, X-Men, and Batman. For these reasons, The Filth qualifies as pop culture.

Covering issues as blurry as the nature of reality, the role of authority, and the sanity of our collective desires and anxieties, The Filth presents a surreal study of the way we have designed our world. By choosing this book as my artifact, I hope to shed light on a text I find extraordinarily challenging and appealing. From the first few lines of its warning label to the last panel of the last page, The Filth is a puzzle waiting to be unraveled.