I love it when you find a book by chance that really provides a great read. For me, I know a book's good when it makes me want to re-assess what I'm doing in my writing, where I'm going right now. O reven if it makes me want to do some writing, like now!
Now this book is by no means for everyone, being something of a ‘niche read’. But for comics fans it’s really the ultimate. It seems to me like the book Alan Moore would have written had he not decided to do Watchmen in the comics medium, a fascinating deconstruction of the specific rules and mythology that we have culturally established in the superhero genre.
That thing about not judging a book by its cover is bullshit.
I was at the Chartwell library trawling for some words to entertain and inspire me. I made my way to the end of the adult section, the dusty corner where they keep the large print books. One of the librarians has the unenviable task of ’merchandising’ a particular genre of books on a table in this portion of the library. The amount of notice I took of this display table is evident in the fact that I cannot remember a single display prior to the one I saw on this fateful day.
This day/week/month(?)’s display was representing the fantasy section. On the wall behind the table were swords and shields from the $2 dollar shop. Enticing. The covers of the books themselves did a pretty good job of representing your typical fantasy scenario. There were elves; dragons; maidens; wizards and of course buff dudes with long hair, loin cloths and helmets. I, like most people I know, look at these books with a kind of derision. I don’t really think about them as real stories. I freely admit that I have never really given them a chance. Maybe they’re amazing. Every once in a while I get a recommendation for Anne McCaffrey or David Gemmel, but I haven’t really explored it. I read Lord of the Rings when I was twelve. It was boring, and took me about a year. My favourite bit was the guy who could turn into a bear (which is basically a superpower, isn’t it).
But I digress. Stashed in amongst the barbarians, dwarves and night elves (or forest elves, I find it hard to distinguish between the two) was one book that looked different. It looked like... holy shit, it looked like its cover had been drawn by Bryan Hitch, British illustrator well known for his massive ensemble comic covers!
If you're going to write a book about superheroes, you're going to want a comics artist to draw your cover. Don't just show a mask stretched between two gloved fists. That is lame. And if you want on that super awesome cover a tiger wearing pants like a man, a transparent lady with glass nipples and a big goatee'd helmet, then you better pick up the phone and call Bryan Hitch because odds are even he draws that sort of shit every day for a warm up, while he's eating, on a napkin, and it still looks amazing.
I know what you’re thinking, and yes I am a big enough comics geek to spot and recognise a specific artist’s work at twenty paces. I’m the guy who watched early episodes of Heroes going, “clearly that is the work of Tim Sale, not Isaac Mendez.” I probably even scoffed.
Heroes is an apt comparison to Mr Grossman’s work, actually. Both share that same reverence for superhero culture and a desire to explore the real life drama that would naturally occur as a result of having abilities beyond the norm. But while Heroes takes its subject matter very seriously, Grossman walks a finer line, somewhere between that reverence and an acceptance of the ridiculousness of the superhero genre.
That thing about not judging a book by its cover is bullshit.
I was at the Chartwell library trawling for some words to entertain and inspire me. I made my way to the end of the adult section, the dusty corner where they keep the large print books. One of the librarians has the unenviable task of ’merchandising’ a particular genre of books on a table in this portion of the library. The amount of notice I took of this display table is evident in the fact that I cannot remember a single display prior to the one I saw on this fateful day.
This day/week/month(?)’s display was representing the fantasy section. On the wall behind the table were swords and shields from the $2 dollar shop. Enticing. The covers of the books themselves did a pretty good job of representing your typical fantasy scenario. There were elves; dragons; maidens; wizards and of course buff dudes with long hair, loin cloths and helmets. I, like most people I know, look at these books with a kind of derision. I don’t really think about them as real stories. I freely admit that I have never really given them a chance. Maybe they’re amazing. Every once in a while I get a recommendation for Anne McCaffrey or David Gemmel, but I haven’t really explored it. I read Lord of the Rings when I was twelve. It was boring, and took me about a year. My favourite bit was the guy who could turn into a bear (which is basically a superpower, isn’t it).
But I digress. Stashed in amongst the barbarians, dwarves and night elves (or forest elves, I find it hard to distinguish between the two) was one book that looked different. It looked like... holy shit, it looked like its cover had been drawn by Bryan Hitch, British illustrator well known for his massive ensemble comic covers!
Bryan Hitch must have the sweetest nightmares known to man. This image makes up the front cover, the back cover and the inner panels.
If you're going to write a book about superheroes, you're going to want a comics artist to draw your cover. Don't just show a mask stretched between two gloved fists. That is lame. And if you want on that super awesome cover a tiger wearing pants like a man, a transparent lady with glass nipples and a big goatee'd helmet, then you better pick up the phone and call Bryan Hitch because odds are even he draws that sort of shit every day for a warm up, while he's eating, on a napkin, and it still looks amazing.
I know what you’re thinking, and yes I am a big enough comics geek to spot and recognise a specific artist’s work at twenty paces. I’m the guy who watched early episodes of Heroes going, “clearly that is the work of Tim Sale, not Isaac Mendez.” I probably even scoffed.
Heroes is an apt comparison to Mr Grossman’s work, actually. Both share that same reverence for superhero culture and a desire to explore the real life drama that would naturally occur as a result of having abilities beyond the norm. But while Heroes takes its subject matter very seriously, Grossman walks a finer line, somewhere between that reverence and an acceptance of the ridiculousness of the superhero genre.
Lucky the dinosaur isn't holding a sword too. That'd be ridiculous.
Doctor Impossible, the book’s primary villain, states “You can be the smartest man in the world, but if you try something like [taking over the world], a Special Forces reject is still going to rappel over the wall and punch you in the stomach”.
Doctor Impossible is definitely the star of the show. His narrative comprises one half of the story, alternating chapter by chapter with Fatale, the uncertain new recruit of the recently re-formed Champions super team. He spends much of the story alone, lamenting to the reader about his inability to take over the world, and blaming many of his problems on MHD (Malign Hypercognition Disorder, or ‘Evil Genius Syndrome’, a hilarious riff on our tendency to label any type of behaviour as the responsibility of some sort of disorder.)
The final point in my case for why this book is completely awesome, your honour, is the supplemental material at the back of the volume. There’s an appendix of every superhero or villain named in the novel, complete with sometimes derivative, sometimes hilarious (and sometimes both) origin stories. Best of all, there are mock covers, fully inked and coloured for the comics series that this story could so easily have been, featuring main characters from the story in typical comic poses.
If you like comics at all, you should read this book. On a scale of ten, I give it 38 heat visions and a shrink ray.
Doctor Impossible is definitely the star of the show. His narrative comprises one half of the story, alternating chapter by chapter with Fatale, the uncertain new recruit of the recently re-formed Champions super team. He spends much of the story alone, lamenting to the reader about his inability to take over the world, and blaming many of his problems on MHD (Malign Hypercognition Disorder, or ‘Evil Genius Syndrome’, a hilarious riff on our tendency to label any type of behaviour as the responsibility of some sort of disorder.)
The final point in my case for why this book is completely awesome, your honour, is the supplemental material at the back of the volume. There’s an appendix of every superhero or villain named in the novel, complete with sometimes derivative, sometimes hilarious (and sometimes both) origin stories. Best of all, there are mock covers, fully inked and coloured for the comics series that this story could so easily have been, featuring main characters from the story in typical comic poses.
If you like comics at all, you should read this book. On a scale of ten, I give it 38 heat visions and a shrink ray.
And you should have a good Easter.
*Cough. What were you thinking!* (This is the American cover. Suckers.) All I'm saying is, if you put this cover, designed by someone who earned their design degree from the National School of Block Primary Colours Design, in a locked room with Bryan Hitch's cover, I think we both know which one would emerge with a distended stomach.
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