Comic Books

I was never into comic books. At school, the kids I knew who read comics were the same that liked heavy metal, magic and role playing. They drew swords and monsters in their notebooks and debated which would win in a fight; a griffin or a sphinx. Though I’d never read any comics, given the polarity of our interests, I assumed they were for “them,” not for me.

I watched the cartoons, Batman, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, X-Men, without even realizing there was a comic book form for these heroes. I received some hand me down X-Men comic books and trading cards from an older boy in the neighborhood. My brother and I gleamed enough of the books to figure out what each character’s special powers were, then held epic battles using the trading cards as if they were action figures.

Comics always seemed like an icon of my father’s youth. Along with wooden spinning tops, toy trains, newspaper sailboats, and those hoops you push with a stick, comic books seemed to be seemed to be another common answer to the question, “what do little boys like?” which I had never actually owned, or even imagined I would enjoy. They seemed dated and ancient. I sort of figured they’d all been drawn in the fifties and weren’t printed anymore.

When Hollywood couldn’t thank of anymore ways to remake Shakespeare and started adapting comics into film, I didn’t know who half the superheroes were. The Watchmen trailers looked badass, but I expected just a lot of well-choreographed violence and expensive special effects. When I saw the movie, I wasn’t prepared for the psychological complexity and intense ethics of it.

Of course, I was used to directors’ take on action heroes, I still wasn’t sure how the books themselves would hold up. Reading Kingdom Come, I was impressed with the beauty of the graphics, and between the Book of Revelation story frame and the avant-garde nature of the superheroes questioning their own relevance, I approved. I knew enough about the main characters, like Superman and Batman, to have a firm basis, and I had at least heard of some of the supporting cast, but for the majority of the characters I was completely out of the loop. I’m sure there are plenty of nuances and references that I missed because of my unfamiliarity.

In written form, the Watchmen, I was glad to learn, was pretty much exactly as the movie said it was. Better even. Rorschach was even more psychotic and unbendingly moral than the filmmakers were apparently comfortable portraying. I loved the essays and excerpts between chapters giving more in-depth insight into their world. The hundreds of connections, events mirrored in the pirate comic, minor characters interacting with each other on the street, references to Veidt products, different perspectives on the same events by different characters, none of that came across as well in the movie as they did in the book. It’s complex. It’s enlightening. It’s literature.

Who knew?