Y: The Last Man left its own mark, and I’ll try to describe, as concisely as possible, why it was significant.
Here, we have a work with a clear beginning, middle, and end, centered around the human experience, more specifically, the protagonist Yorick, who finds himself in the terrifyingly difficult position of surviving in a world where no one else shares his chromosomes. In other words, he is the last man.
One of the many narrative tricks Vaughan employs is that his main character is anything but a hero. Yorick is a coward, a bit of a loudmouth, talkative, a wisecracker, not at all a survivalist, and if it weren’t for the help he received and a great deal of luck, he likely wouldn’t have made it very far.
So, what happened that left him alone in this world? Obviously, I won’t spoil that, because the story is designed in such a way that it’s worth discovering gradually through reading. I’m confident, though, that when I revisit the series, the enjoyment I’ll get will be just as strong, knowing the full story and its many unexpected twists.
Also, Yorick’s profession, what he did before the world changed, is one of the story’s key elements. You’ll see what I mean as you read.
Thematically, Y: The Last Man touches on many issues, and I’ll mention a few to give you an idea. It explores gender, identity, and sexuality. It constantly delves into sociopolitical matters such as faith and science, and never misses a chance to address global stereotypes, whether in the West or the East, since the entire planet has changed and everyone has been affected.
It’s impressive how ambitious this project was and how much trust and confidence the creators must have had in themselves to believe they could pull it off. In the end, they more than succeeded, sweeping the Eisner Awards.
I’m always moved and amazed when a creator has an idea for a story and nothing can stop them—they chase it to the end, even at the risk of losing everything. Okay, I don’t know if that’s exactly what happened with Vaughan and Guerra, because I imagine if it hadn’t worked out, they would have moved on to something else. Still, I picture them going to the publishers and saying, “I have this idea about the last man on Earth—it’s going to be an epic journey, with this and that happening,” and they weren’t big names yet, didn’t have a guaranteed audience or proven profits. So, I believe the satisfaction must have been great for both sides when the work was received so positively.
This comic also kept me company for about a month—the time it took me to finish it—and now that I’ve put it back on the shelf and it’s no longer part of my daily routine, I miss it. It’s a sweet feeling, becoming attached to a story, and when it ends, feeling that sense of separation. It’s a reminder of how deeply art can affect you, how it can entertain you so thoroughly that you feel a change inside afterward. It doesn’t matter if that change is big or small, what matters is that something has shifted, and that has enormous value, especially as you grow older and leave childhood behind.
More specifically, I’m referring to that state of mind where you allow yourself to absorb a new piece of information, to reflect on it, and then move forward knowing a little more than before, whether about the world or even about yourself.
Y: The Last Man, through everything it presents, analyzes, comments on, critiques, and even plays with—occasionally brushing against horror—ultimately succeeds in realistically portraying the emotions of its characters. They talk to each other like real people, not as puppets or plot devices. That’s why you become attached to them, even when you disagree. That’s why you miss them when there are no more pages left to read. And at the end of the day, that’s why you find yourself telling others, “Hey, check out this comic. It’s worth your time.”
That’s all for now.
Until next time, take care—and keep reading.
It’s important!
Accompanying Notes:
https://open.spotify.com/album/07Ckd8KDDxcbY5iUXjhuex?si=KPMc2tCnQweNdrxs1HHZfQ
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