And that's how it was in England
Some horror fans would see "The Bojeffries Saga" as a comic-book version of "The Munsters", but Alan Moore and Steve Parkhouse would object to it. Mary Shelley thought of Frankenstein. Bram Stoker and Sheridan Le Fanu popularized vampire literature, but they were Irishmen. England has historical (and cultural) ties with Ireland, though. As for the werewolf, one of the most popular films in that genre is "An American Werewolf in London" by John Landis.
Not a few thought that "The Bojeffries Saga" was too weird, which would turn the Addams Family into a normal kin from the suburb. Moore and Parkhouse were from Great Britain. This was the land that nurtured the likes of Monty Python. Although many people couldn't follow the British sense of humor, they would be amused nonetheless. It could be the accent. The Bojeffries wouldn't be different from Moore's other works, about characters who were out of this world. Parkhouse worked for the Marvel Comics for years, so he knew this medium too well. The distinctive British traits were revealed in this series, which first came out in 1983. Here are five reasons to look for a copy:
The vampires and werewolves became iconic figures for one reason. Readers (and moviegoers) were bored to death, and they were looking for cheap thrill. This was how Shelley thought of Frankenstein, while killing the time during a stormy night. Universal Studios figured out that it was a cheesy moment. (And this was the opening scene of "Bride of Frankenstein".) Nothing beats the real thing, as no one would dare to travel to the remote part of the Balkans and search for an isolated community. (Gary Brandner already thought of it. You could read his chilling tale in "The Howling.) The Bojeffries would come to mind. They were ordinary citizens, and their abode don't deserve a second glance. But not the rent collector.
This comic series is a homage to film enthusiasts. There's nothing wrong about being a comic geek, even if it implies that one might miss out on the finer things in life. Appearance will be one thing, but this kind of people may sneer at those who pay too much attention on good lucks. One issue tells about a rent collector. He's a middle-aged chap who still lives with his mother. He seems to be a film enthusiast. (The Rentman Always Knock Twice. Rent and Punishment. Mein Rent.) And he found out that the Bojeffries haven't paid the rent for quite some time. A hundred years, which would make most people think twice. But greed would prompt this collector to pay a visit. And he wouldn't leave this strange household. A familiar plot, isn't it? It's time to guess the film.
Readers will yearn for Uncle Fester. The members of the Bojeffries include a vampire and werewolf. Readers would see an eccentric family. It's so British. And they tried too hard to integrate into the neighborhood. But no one seemed to pay attention to them.
There's a thing called batfishing. Fishing was popularized after the English Civil War. It became a recreational activity, even a possible mean to meet one's soulmate. (Read "Salmon Fishing in the Yemen" by Paul Torday.) In the case of the Bojeffries, batfishing was a bonding moment between father and son. After one caught a fish, father would instruct son to throw it into a brick wall. Go figure.
Blood is thicker than water. Ginda Bojeffries is a big, unattractive girl. And she didn't seem to look at the mirror very often. She would insist that the menfolk were intimidated by her. Her old man loved her so much, such that he'd rather not comment on it. Before you suspect Moore and Parkhouse as male chauvinists, you must remember that this compilation is not for the politically-correct readers. They should laugh at them, even at themselves.
If you're a fan of this strange family, then share your views with us.
