The Adaptable Educator’s Book Review – Transmetropolitan, Vol. 6: Gouge Away by Warren Ellis

Dissecting Dystopia

In Gouge Away, the sixth volume of Transmetropolitan, Warren Ellis continues his unrelenting cyberpunk saga, thrusting readers deeper into the diseased heart of his dystopian future. This volume, illustrated with Darick Robertson’s characteristic intensity, marks a turning point in the arc of gonzo journalist Spider Jerusalem, pushing both the narrative and its ideological underpinnings toward an inevitable reckoning.

At its core, Gouge Away is a meditation on the cost of truth-telling in a world where corruption is no longer subtext but the primary text of political and social life. As Spider battles the fallout of his unflinching journalism—exposing the systemic rot of President Callahan’s administration—the story adopts an almost existential tone. The once-invincible, vitriol-spewing journalist begins to bear the weight of his crusade, forcing us to ask: what happens when the righteous warrior is battered beyond repair?

Ellis’s writing here is sharper than ever, laced with a feverish energy reminiscent of Hunter S. Thompson’s most unhinged rants, yet underscored by a deeply human melancholy. Spider’s monologues blur the line between mania and insight, channeling both the paranoia of Philip K. Dick and the world-weary cynicism of William S. Burroughs. The language is rhythmic, almost incantatory, reinforcing the idea that journalism, in Spider’s hands, is a form of battle magic—dangerous, unpredictable, and capable of both illumination and destruction.

Visually, Robertson’s artwork is equally indispensable to the storytelling. The grotesque, overpopulated cityscapes pulse with a sense of perpetual movement, a chaotic dynamism that mirrors the narrative’s sense of urgency. Each panel is drenched in excess—whether it be advertisements screaming from every surface, the grimy filth of urban sprawl, or the grotesque caricatures of political power—all serving as a visual indictment of late-stage capitalism.

Yet, beyond its seething rage, Gouge Away also functions as a meditation on moral exhaustion. Spider is not merely fighting external enemies; he is wrestling with his own body’s betrayal, his decaying mind, and the ever-narrowing space between himself and the corrupt figures he seeks to dismantle. The title itself—Gouge Away—suggests both violence and removal, hinting at the extent to which Spider must carve away parts of himself to survive this war.

This volume, then, is more than just another installment in a sci-fi epic. It is a bleakly poetic examination of journalism’s responsibility in an era of institutional collapse. It raises urgent questions: How much truth can a society tolerate before it turns on its truth-tellers? Is resistance sustainable, or is it merely a slow form of self-destruction? And, perhaps most chillingly, does exposure of injustice still matter when the audience has long since become numb?

Warren Ellis does not offer easy answers. Instead, Gouge Away leaves us with the unsettling certainty that in a world overrun by spectacle, it is the few who insist on seeing clearly who are the most vulnerable.