While other monsters clamor for attention with capes and claws and bandages, the zombie has embedded itself into our consciousness with little more than a stumble and a moan. Metaphorically, this classic creature embodies a number of our greatest fears. Most obviously, it is our own death, personified. The physical manifestation of that thing we fear the most. More subtly, the zombie represents a number of our deeper insecurities. The fear that deep down, we may be little more than animals, concerned only with appetite. Zombies can represent that threat of collectivism against individuality. The notion that we might be swallowed up and forgotten, our special-ness devoured by the crowd. 

Oddly, those rotten bastards also give us hope. The undead may be tenacious, single minded and as relentless as lava, but they are also stupid and slow; ineffectual and inept. You don’t have to be Van Helsing, or even Peter Venkman to throw down with a zombie. Anyone with a pulse can step up. As long as you keep your head, defeating a zombie is not an insurmountable task. You don’t need spells, or stakes, or silver bullets, you just need your wits and a weapon. A gun is good, but most bunt objects will do, things we might have around the house or the garden. It is perhaps the combination of hope in the face of terror, that makes the zombie so attractive to us. The idea that we could ourselves, beat death. Beat it until it’s brains come out of its ears.

With The Walking Dead, Robert Kirkman has brilliantly captured the spirit of George A. Romero’s definitive version of the modern zombie and applied it to his own epic tale of survival. I would imagine everybody reading this has at some time or another asked themselves the question: What would I do? How would I survive if it was me against them? Whilst our favourite zombie movies always seem to finish far too quickly, leaving us wondering what happened next, Kirkman is able to savor the journey and explore the many dangers and dilemmas facing his increasingly diminishing and outnumbered band of survivors. Often, as in some of the best zombie stories, the ghouls themselves are merely bit part players, a context in which to play out the human story. Our real concerns are for the people that remain, for their future and by proxy, our own. 

The Walking Dead brilliantly captures the simple truth that in the face of Armageddon, the little things remain unchanged. We still love and hate the same people. We still like the same bands, get the horn, remain frightened of heights and spiders. Kirkman cleverly focuses his narrative on the enduring minutiae of human existence and uses a full blown zombie apocalypse to bring it into sharp relief. Often the roots of great fantasy are firmly embedded in the truth. It is the simple reality that makes The Walking Dead such an engrossing read. 

Now, that may be just a load of bullshit, film school speculation, but as we all know, it’s unwise to underestimate a zombie. So if you’re a fan who’s just torn though this volume, devouring it hungrily, clawing at each page turn, desperate for the next morsel of information, go back to the beginning, take a big deep breath and start again. Savor it, think about it, re-evalulate it and like the best zombies, take it slow.

Simon Pegg

2004