Ultimately, Lost Girls is about whether we embrace violence or its gentler alternatives, our good or bad natures. There's a firm anti-war message wrapped up in the gaudy fantasia, as the grim events of World War I loom over and ultimately consume the three women's private paradise.

I've concentrated heavily on Moore's writing here because it's so commanding and confident, but I don't want to slight Melinda Gebbie's artwork. Moore's fiancee is an integral part of Lost Girls, and her beautiful artwork brings it to unforgettable life. Gebbie's gauzy, vaguely fairy tale-like style blends well with Moore's tale of self-exploration. It's also subtly versatile - flipping through pages, you can really see how Gebbie tightens or loosens her style according to the demands of the tale. The colors are particularly gorgeous, done by hand without digital manipulation. Her style evokes an older era, yet has a modern tint. And her very presence as a muse for Moore's tale defeats any argument that Lost Girls is sexist – a ridiculous assault, as Lost Girls is far more told from the female point of view than male.

I'll be curious to see if, upon its August release, Lost Girls becomes another rallying cry for some conservatives, and causes outrage among those who aren't even going to read it. It would be a shame – in this very bold, very human saga, Moore has created a thesis on sexuality that stands with his finest work.