The Philippine Online Chronicles

Books on superheroes, the type that wear spandex and have graced movie theaters for the past decade, aren't unique or new but what makes Supergods immediately stand out from the pack is its author. It's not just Grant Morrison's track record, whether it's writing impressive graphic novels which non-geeks might not have heard of such as The Invisibles and The Filth, or mainstream titles like JLA, New X-Men, and the recently-concluded Batman Incorporated, but rather because he is currently one of DC's top writers, shaping the way superhero comics will be read in the next few years (especially in light of DC's recent relaunch). Supergods isn't just a blast from the past, but in many ways, a foreboding of what's to come from one of today's still-practicing and influential comics writers.

Let's make one thing clear: comics is not synonymous with superheroes. There's manga for example which, for the most part, is devoid of protagonists in spandex (although they do have their own versions of superheroes). Neither is it fair to limit it to simply Western comics for that would neglect titles like Tintin, Asterix, or even strips like Garfield and Dilbert. Still, superheroes are a massive subculture that has been closely linked with comics, even as other forms of media such as radio, film, and TV have appropriated it for their own. This is where Supergods comes in as Morrison relates the reasons why it appeals to readers, and more importantly, why it matters to him.

Gods, Knights, Warriors, Princesses

At first glance, there's an ambiguity to Supergods. What kind of nonfiction book is it? Is it simply just a discourse on superheroes? The first chapter, "The Sun God and the Dark Knight," would make you believe that's the case: It's a well-researched piece that details Superman and Batman's evolution, both in terms of the craft (i.e. Superman's outfit is patterned after circus strongmen), the business (i.e. how one of Batman's original writers, Bill Finger, isn’t credit as much as Bob Kane), and the themes (i.e. Morrison makes a case that in early Batman stories, most of his antagonists utilize chemicals as their weapons). Further in the book, there's several nods to this kind of journalism, as Morrison tackles influential comic iconographies of the past few decades, everything from Alan Moore and Dave Gibbon's graphic novel Watchmen, Warren Ellis and Bryan Hitch's The Authority, to Christopher Nolan's The Dark Knight, or even M. Night Shaymalan's Unbreakable--a film that doesn't immediately spring to mind when we talk about superheroes.

But what might confound some readers, especially those looking for a linear or traditional narrative, is Morrison's style and transition. There's an internal logic to the way this one-part memoir, one-part treatise flows, and admittedly, the author doesn't get it right all the time. For example, the second chapter's title, "The Lightning Child," is clearly a reference to Fawcett comics's Captain Marvel (whose powers are derived from magical lightning), but Morrison starts it off with Hermes-inspired heroes, from Namor the Sub-Mariner to The Flash, the Fastest Man Alive. Here, the transition works, but not so much in the succeeding chapter, "The Superwarrior and the Amazon Princess," which starts off with Captain America but ends with Wonder Woman. The link between the two is tenuous at best and it's clear that the chapter is more about Wonder Woman than the star-spangled American hero.

Initially, this transitional madness is what makes certain tangents enjoyable: an essay on DC's multiverse in "Infinite Earths" can lead to a discussion on the scientific plausibility of alternate realities and the metafictional aspects of comics that's reminiscent of Scott McCloud's theories in Understanding Comics. However, as we delve deeper into the book, we realize that Supergods isn't simply about superhero scholarship, but Morrison's autobiography filtered through his experiences with comics, which is just as well considering his contributions to the industry. If the author's life is merely hinted at or allotted a few paragraphs in the first half of the book, the second half becomes a confessional of Morrison's experimentation with hallucinogens, his near-death experiences, his personal belief in his all-too-real fifth dimension, and of course, his own comics work.

Personal history

Personally, I'm not bothered by this change of pace--and in fact what I've come to expect from the likes of Morrison--but it might catch readers whose tastes are too Catholic off-guard. A lot of the early chapters, for example, can be lifted wholesale and reprinted as articles in another forum. Others, however, are too interlinked with Morrison's personal history and the overall framework of the book that to divorce them is to remove their necessary context. This is, in fact, proof of Morrison's skill as a writer, because he makes the reading process enjoyable despite this conceptual hodgepodge.

There comes a point when I have to ask, who is the author's ideal reader? Is Supergods limited to the diehard comics fan? Morrison, after all, talks a lot about comics, and while he does give ample descriptions about them, there's a stark difference between talking about a body of work vs. personally experiencing them. Thankfully, I've read a lot of what Morrison alludes to, enhancing my appreciation (and sometimes criticism) of Morrison's views, but I've also managed to follow the train of thought when I was ignorant of the text. Another similar issue arises when the author talks about comic book covers and scenes. Again, they are aptly described, and sometimes, images are even included in the book. But when the requisite photos and excerpts aren’t obtained and all we have are Morrison's descriptions of why a certain illustration is important, the nuances of art appreciation and self-observation is lost.

Also lurking at the back of my mind is that rather than a scholarly work, Supergods is Morrison's own personal history with comics: it is tinged with nostalgia, personal interpretations, and theories on both science and the spiritual. This is both the book's strength and weakness for while some readers might agree with Morrison's pop cultural references (which, I might add, is very Western) and politics, it's also not going to be everyone's cup of tea (there is, for example, a disproportion when it comes to Morrison's dialogue on female vs. male superheroes).

Overall, Supergods was an engaging read, and in many ways, this is the secret origin of one of our era’s most talented comic book writers. This is the story of a person who believes he can insert himself into the comics he writes, and comics in turn reflects reality.

Supergods book cover used here for purposes of review. Copyright is believed to belong to the graphic artist or the distributor.