I know everyone bitches about comparisons with comics and other mediums, and I usually try to refrain from them. But on the subject of sex: really—why do sex and sensuality in comics have to be so one-tracked? Imagine if Henry Miller wrote Tropic of Cancer as a literal fantasy of Amazon women partaking in his idiosyncratic S&M escapades. Or envision Bernardo Bertolucci making Last Tango in Paris a four hour, unedited le morceau de crap featuring Marlon Brando staring at the camera, recounting his day of masturbating and writing a screenplay about masturbating. In other words, why are comics stuck in that Fantagraphics set of anxiety ridden, undisciplined, sex-as-self-deprecation style or unoriginal confessionals? It could be argued that the medium is collectively aiming at its collective audience, or that these qualities are intrinsic to comic’s language. But the medium has more than displayed an ability to show grace—and an extension of that, if done right, could be sensuality.

So that’s why Promethea #8 is the proverbial “breath of fresh air,” a frank and bold statements of clever, yet funny, sexuality that balks at not only taboo, but the unimaginative sex in comics. Almost every new comic Alan Moore touches pushes a stylistic boundary, but always does so in an entertaining and startling ingenious way. Even with America’s Best Comics, Moore’s personal line, he shows that proliferation is the best showcase of his awe-inspiring intellect and that inevitably, he might be the most accomplished, brilliant, and entertaining personality ever to create a comic book.

Compared to what it is now, ABC’s premiere issues started out slow, and Promethea was the slowest out of the gates, presenting itself as the straight-forward action story Moore usually disdained. Gradually, it asserted itself as the most cohesive of all the ABC titles, Moore’s funny feminist take on Gaiman’s Sandman, mixed with Plato’s philosophies of the world of ideas versus world of forms, Carl Jung’s collective unconscious theories…and several hits of acid. Meanwhile, the rest of the ABC line too have further developed, forming into a mainstream textbook to the themes of Moore’s other profound works. In From Hell, the idea of reality becoming a myth becomes eerie and amazingly lyrical as Jack the Ripper sees himself becoming a boogie-man concept throughout history. In Top 10, it’s the funny soap-opera of daily deity murder as the Norse gods play out the death of Baldur every day, while the Neopolis police try to solve the matter without destroying the universe. Perhaps the gap between the intelligence in Moore’s mainstream work and his important work has widened beyond belief, but he takes all of his old themes and seems to now make them fun, as if they roll off the brain.

But anyway, back to the sex—Moore’s stories are filled with sex. The excellent “Rite of Spring” from Swamp Thing #34 turned sex into a wildly stylistic and beautiful psychedelic swirl, despite the fact it was showing…dedraphilia (how would you act if you were in love with a plant god?). Then there’s Marvelman’s sex (which was only hinted at—but the birth sure wasn’t), the uncompleted erotic fairy-tale Lost Girls, and the frank monotonous docu-sex of From Hell. In Promethea, a college student named Sophie becomes a living goddess/myth whenever she uses creativity to envision the goddess. In #8’s “Sex, Stars & Serpents,” Promethea is goaded into sex with an old man, and as she performs a strip-tease, he recounts mythical histories of each of her body parts and clothing. After pages of playful dialogue, Moore then releases an orgy of stylistic layouts, where “only one room has ever existed. Only one bed…we are everyone, and this moment… This is everything.” With J.H. Williams, Moore has crafted the most inventive page layouts since his Swamp Thing, himself shackling off years of restrained experiments. But “Sex” takes everything to a new level; in being so frank with his topic but still maintaining his grace and eloquence in the mainstream, it seems like he’s finally found comfort being smart in the funnybooks again.

Comics have always had that albatross of the kiddie medium, so it’s not unbelievable that a taboo like sex has never been explored—and when it has been, it’s usually done by risqué taboo demolishers who get off on their own “innovation,” despite being mostly reactionary. Sex is very well the most all consuming topic of any art. Freud said it was the fundamental motive of our psyche, and despite the wishes of most moralists, it should be handled, even in a kiddie medium. It only has to not dull itself to its abilities. It cannot present sex without context, otherwise it’ll become pornography. It cannot resort to extremes, otherwise it’ll become pointless. Moore’s not brave for just taking the subject seriously, though. He’s brave for taking it seriously and putting his stamp on it, and therefore making it important.