Book Review: Comics, Culture, and Religion: Faith Imagined

 reviewed by Dominick Grace

Kees de Groot, ed. Comics, Culture, and Religion:  Faith Imagined. New York:  Bloomsbury Academic, 2024. 264 pp. US $39.95 (Paperback). ISBN:  978-1-3503-2162-5. https://www.bloomsbury.com/us/comics-culture-and-religion-9781350321588/ (open access - free download)

 Comics, Culture, and Religion:  Faith Imagined, edited by Kees de Groot, adds to the growing list of books addressing religion in comics (2024 also, see Grafius and Morehead’s Horror Comics and Religion). The book also participates in the growing trend towards globalism in comics scholarship. While American texts, such as Maus, Watchmen, and Craig Thompson’s Habibi, are addressed, the book also covers European, Japanese, and Indian texts, and others on religions other than Christianity. These features are all to the good. While not every chapter, perhaps, will be of use to every reader, anyone interested in the range of comics with religious elements, and/or the relationship between comics and religion per se, will find material of interest here, and scholars interested in the specific topics of individual chapters will wish to check those ones out, at least. The scholars, whose work appears here, are mostly European, so though the lens through which most look is Western, it is not, with a couple of exceptions, North American. This is also all to the good. Diversity of topics and of scholarly voices remain important to the growth and robustness of scholarship generally, and comics scholarship specifically, given that comics are a worldwide phenomenon, but comics scholarship has not, as yet, fully encompassed that global reality.

Nevertheless, this collection is a mixed bag. The chapters are all in English, but many of the authors are not native speakers, so the prose can be stilted and occasionally, grammatically flawed. This might seem like a niggle, but careful editorial oversight should have been able to smooth out such infelicities without compromising the authors’ voices. Furthermore, the scholars included are not, generally, comics scholars per se, but rather religious studies scholars, who do bring an important perspective to a book on comics and religion, but who also do not always have the depth of comics knowledge or focus on comics-specific aspects of what they discuss that comics scholars may be looking for. The books’ approach is also oriented more towards social science than humanities, which is hardly a limitation or flaw, but it does mean that comics scholars more on the humanities side of the discipline may find this book less useful than will their social sciences colleagues. (Full disclosure:  I come from the humanities, so the methodologies and interests of some of these papers fall outside my own areas of practice, interest, and knowledge.)

The book is divided into four parts. As de Groot writes in his introduction:

 

The first part, Comics in Religion, starts with religions. How do religious communities and institutions use comics to communicate with their audience and why and when do they protest against them? The second part, Religion in Comics, starts with comics. How are religious beliefs, rituals, symbols, leaders, stories, and practices represented, criticized, and discussed in comics? The third part, Comics as Religion?, discusses the cultural role of comics in cultivating a sense of the sacred and making meaning (7-8). Part four, Learning from Comics, asks, “What and how do comics teach about culture, about religion, and about the intertwinement of the religious and the social?” (8).

 

The quality of the essays varies considerably. Some are well written and researched, and clearly argued; others fail on one or more of these fronts. Many of the essays also don’t seem to me to end up having much of use to say. For instance, Paula Niechcial’s “The Reception of Comics on Zoroastrianism” sounded like it would offer a useful exploration of quite an esoteric (to me) topic. However, her quantitative study of the reception of two comics had very low responses--in the case of one of the comics she was asking about, only one of her 91 respondents indicated being familiar with it. Consequently, it is difficult to reach reliable conclusions about responses to these comics, based on this research. Others drift from the book’s focus. For instance, the one on “The Magic of the Multiverse:  Easter Eggs, Superhuman Beings, and Metamodernism in Marvel’s Story Worlds,” by Sissel Undheim, has much more to say about film and TV than the comics--and there is much one might discuss about how Marvel Comics have treated (or mistreated) religion. Line Reichelt Føreland’s “Comics and Religious Studies:  Amar Chitra Katha as an Educational Comic Series” offers useful information on comics as educational tools and on the history of the comics she is discussing, but does not really answer her opening question:  “How can comics be used in religious studies?” (205; my emphasis). What would have seemed to me obvious examples to consider of comics that try to proselytize--Spire comics, Jack Chick tracts, for instance--are not even mentioned.

On the other hand, several pieces are strong, whether on comics familiar to North American readers. For instance, in “Implicit Religion and Trauma Narratives in Maus and Watchmen,” Ilaria Biano’s exercise in “framing Maus and Watchmen in the context of the implicit religiosity of their traumatic narratives” (141) offers useful insights into these canonical comics in their cultural context. Evelina Lundmark tackles the weaponizing of online outrage to attack comics that don’t conform to a particular religious orthodoxy in “Cancelling the Second Coming:  Manufactured Christian Outrage Online,” offering valuable insights. Irene Trysnes provides what is, for an outsider, an excellent analysis of the use of religion in Norwegian comics, in “From Subordinates to Superheroes? Comics in Christian Magazines for Children and Youth in Norway.” Christoffe Monotte takes a new look at Eisner’s A Contract With God in terms of “sociology of religion and migration sociology” (222), in “A Contract with God or a Social Contract?” Other papers were on Preacher, on Craig Thompson’s Habibi, junrei manga, the comics of Kaisa and Christoffer Leka, and other topics.

The final words of the conclusion are, “To be continued.” This is a fair conclusion. This volume is to be commended for its exploration of a diverse array of comics through a religious studies lens, but it also leaves room for additional work. The exploration of religion and/in comics does indeed need to be continued further than it goes here.

 

Table of Contents

Introduction: Comics and Religion in Liquid Modernity, Kees de Groot (Tilburg University, Netherlands)
Part I: Comics in Religion
1. From Subordinates to Superheroes? Comics in Christian Magazines for Children and Youth in Norway, Irene Trysnes (University of Agder, Norway)
2. Cancelling the Second Coming: Manufactured Christian Outrage Online, Evelina Lundmark (Uppsala University, Sweden)
3. The Reception of Comics on Zoroastrianism, Paulina Niechcial (Jagiellonian University, Poland)
Part II: Religion in comics
4. Drawn into Krishna: Autobiography and Lived Religion in the Comics of Kaisa and Christoffer Leka, Andreas Häger and Ralf Kauranen (Åbo Akademi University, Finland)
5. What Would Preacher Do? Tactics of Blasphemy in the Strategies of Satire and Parody, Michael J. Prince (University of Agder, Noway)
6. Islam and Anxieties of Liberalism in Craig Thompson's Habibi, Kambiz GhaneaBassiri (Reed College, USA)
Part III: Comics as Religion?
7. Implicit Religion and Trauma Narratives in Maus and Watchmen, Ilaria Biano (Istituto Italiano, Italy)
8. Manga Pilgrimages: Visualizing the Sacred / Sacralizing the Visual in Japanese Junrei, Mark MacWilliams (St. Lawrence University, USA)
9. Comics and Meaning Making: Adult Comic Book Readers on What, Why and How They Read, Sofia Sjö (Åbo Akademi University, Finland)
Part IV: Learning From Comics
9. The Magic of the Multiverse. Easter Eggs, Superhuman Beings and Metamodernism in Marvel's Story Worlds, Sissel Undheim (University of Bergen, Norway)
10. Comics and Religious Studies: Amar Chitra Katha as an Educational Comic Series, Line Reichelt Føreland (University of Agder, Norway)
11. A Contract with God or a Social Contract? Christophe Monnot (University of Strasbourg, France)
Conclusion: Comics as a Way of Doing, Encountering, and Making Religion, Kees de Groot (Tilburg University, Netherlands)
Bibliography
Index

 

 

Book Review: Batman and the Shadows of Modernity

reviewed by Felipe Rodolfo Hendriksen, Profesor y Licenciando en Letras, Pontificia Universidad Católica Argentina

Rafael Carrión-Arias. Batman and the Shadows of Modernity: A Critical Genealogy on Contemporary Hero in the Age of Nihilism. Routledge, 2024. ISBN 1032423145. $180. https://www.routledge.com/Batman-and-the-Shadows-of-Modernity-A-Critical-Genealogy-on-Contemporary-Hero-in-the-Age-of-Nihilism/Carrion-Arias/p/book/9781032423142

Rafael Carrión-Arias’s Batman and the Shadows of Modernity is not just another analysis of a beloved superhero—it is a profound interrogation of the dark forces that shape our modern world, reflected through the lens of one of pop culture’s most enduring icons. By examining Batman as a product of our existential anxieties, Carrión-Arias crafts a narrative that pushes beyond conventional superhero studies and plunges into the philosophical depths of modernity itself.

At its heart, this book is a meditation on heroism and nihilism, themes that intersect in Batman’s tortured psyche. Carrión-Arias does not merely critique Batman as a character but positions him as a mirror for the postmodern age—a figure grappling with the collapse of meaning and the moral uncertainties of our time. He asks readers not just to observe Batman’s actions, but to understand the cultural and philosophical forces that drive them. It is a brave and ambitious endeavor that establishes Batman as not only a figure of justice, but a symbol of the fragmented self caught in the shadows of modern life.

From the outset, Carrión-Arias frames his study within the philosophical genealogy of Nietzsche and Foucault. Drawing on these thinkers, the author investigates how Batman emerges as a cultural product of late capitalism and existential despair. Carrión-Arias argues that he is not merely a hero, but also a reaction to the collapse of traditional systems of meaning. Rather than focusing solely on Batman’s psychological turmoil, Carrión-Arias positions the character as a reflection of the broader societal fears that define the modern age. And Gotham City, in his analysis, is no mere scene setting, but rather a manifestation of the existential dread that permeates contemporary urban life—a crumbling metropolis where the line between good and evil is blurred and where Batman must constantly navigate a world on the brink of moral collapse.

Where Batman and the Shadows of Modernity distinguishes itself from other analyses, such as those by Grant Morrison or Scott Snyder, is its willingness to tackle the philosophical implications of Batman’s role in a world stripped of meaning. While Morrison, for instance, explores Batman’s mythic dimensions and Snyder delves into his psychological resilience, Carrión-Arias focuses on the socio-political structures that both create and sustain Batman.

One of the book’s most compelling sections is its examination of Batman as a political figure. Drawing on Carl Schmitt’s concept of the “state of exception,” Carrión-Arias suggests that Batman operates as a sovereign figure who exists both within and outside the law. This paradoxical role reflects modern society’s unease with authority and justice, where figures like Batman become necessary yet deeply troubling symbols of order. Batman’s actions, while noble, reveal the fragility of the legal and moral systems upon which society depends. Carrión-Arias’s reading of Batman as an authoritarian figure has particular resonance in today’s political climate, where issues of surveillance, state violence, and personal freedoms are continually debated. By likening Batman to Schmitt’s sovereign figure, the author critiques the hero’s unchecked power, showing how Batman’s vigilante justice echoes the problematic dynamics of American exceptionalism.

The book’s philosophical backbone lies in its deep engagement with nihilism. Carrión-Arias draws extensively from Nietzsche’s The Birth of Tragedy and Dostoevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov, situating Batman as a tragic figure whose pursuit of justice is driven not by hope, but by a profound rejection of meaning. In doing so, Carrión-Arias presents Batman as a hero defined by his refusal to succumb to the chaos surrounding him. Batman’s moral code, particularly his refusal to kill, is framed as a Sisyphean effort to impose order on an inherently disordered world.

Carrión-Arias’s treatment of Batman’s villains, particularly the Joker, is another highlight of the book. Drawing on Mikhail Bakhtin’s theories of the carnivalesque, the author argues that the Joker represents the ultimate embodiment of chaos and disorder, a figure whose very existence challenges Batman’s moral universe. The Joker is not simply Batman’s opposite; he is the embodiment of a world without rules, a world where meaning has been completely eroded. Carrión-Arias’s analysis of Arkham Asylum: A Serious House on Serious Earth as a polyphonic narrative adds depth to his argument, showing how the interplay of voices within the text mirrors the broader cultural debates about sanity, power, and morality.

While Batman and the Shadows of Modernity is a profoundly thought-provoking text, its density may be a barrier for readers who are less familiar with the philosophical frameworks the author engages with. At times, Carrión-Arias assumes a high level of philosophical literacy, particularly when discussing theories of Nietzsche and Foucault. While this adds intellectual heft, it may alienate readers looking for a more accessible exploration of Batman. That being said, the book’s strength lies in its willingness to tackle complex, often uncomfortable questions about heroism, morality, and the modern world. For those willing to engage with its complexities, Batman and the Shadows of Modernity offers a rich and rewarding exploration of one of pop culture’s most iconic figures. It is a book that not only deepens our understanding of Batman but also forces us to confront the shadows that shape our own world.

In conclusion, Batman and the Shadows of Modernity offers a significant contribution to both superhero studies and broader philosophical discourse. By positioning Batman as a figure intertwined with the moral uncertainties and existential struggles of the modern world, Carrión-Arias transcends typical superhero analysis and opens up new avenues for understanding the character’s cultural relevance. This book not only deepens our appreciation for Batman as a reflection of modern nihilism but also lays the groundwork for future scholarship on how superheroes function as ideological symbols in an era marked by fragmentation and crisis. As both a cultural critique and a philosophical treatise, Batman and the Shadows of Modernity stands as an essential text for scholars, philosophers, and comic book enthusiasts alike, one that will likely shape future discussions on the intersection of power, identity, and morality in the superhero genre.

Book Review: Superheroes Smash the Box Office: A Cinema History from the Serials to 21st Century Blockbusters by Shawn Conner

 reviewed by Edward Whatley, Georgia College & State University

Shawn Conner. Superheroes Smash the Box Office: A Cinema History from the Serials to 21^st Century Blockbusters. McFarland & Company, 2023. 238 pages, $39.95 (Paperback), ISBN 9781476676661. https://mcfarlandbooks.com/product/superheroes-smash-the-box-office/

In contemporary cinema, superhero films have become a monolithic genre, capturing audiences and box office revenues with unprecedented fervor; however, when superheroes first made the leap from their native comic books onto the big screen, their early appearances were not in feature films but in Saturday serials.  In hindsight, the transition seems logical given the similarities between comic books and serials.  Both formats were aimed at younger audiences.  Both featured episodic storytelling and cliffhanger endings.  In Superheroes Smash the Box Office, author Shawn Conner provides a rather breezy 238-page journey along the long and winding path from cheaply produced 1940s Saturday afternoon superhero serials to the 21^st century blockbuster superhero feature films.

Covering almost nine decades of cinema history is an ambitious undertaking, and Conner explains in his introduction that he found it necessary to restrict the book’s scope to “live-action American movies.” (2)  Chapter one begins in 1941 with the first superhero to appear in a live-action production: Captain Marvel (Shazam to later readers), soon followed by Batman and Captain America. This chapter is easily one of the most interesting in the entire book, as it covers territory that will be unfamiliar to many readers.

Moving on from the serials, Conner expands the scope of the book by spending the next two chapters discussing superhero television shows, namely: Superman starring George Reeves, Batman starring Adam West and Burt Ward, and Wonder Woman starring Lynda Carter. He also covers the 1970s Marvel television shows and movies featuring the Hulk, Spider-Man, Captain America, and Doctor Strange.

With chapter 4, Conner returns his focus to the big screen to discuss the 1978 film Superman starring Christopher Reeve.   From this point on, the book sticks with feature films through its concluding discussion of 2021’s Spider-Man: No Way Home.

Conner explores how each adaptation—be it a serial, television show, or feature film—contributed to the evolution of superhero cinema. The discussion includes the influence of specific characters and storylines on the genre's development, as well as the impact of technological advancements on special effects and storytelling techniques. Fans of the original comics will also enjoy his discussions of how the screen adaptations adhered to or diverged from the comics source material. 

How successful Conner is in his telling will depend largely on the expectations of the reader.  His writing style is engaging and entertaining.  His deadpan plot synopses are often laugh-out-loud funny. But readers should not expect a very deep dive into any specific films. As I stated earlier, this is a rather breezy reading experience despite the enormity of the topic.  While early chapters offer more (relatively) extensive discussions of their subjects, the pace seems to quicken and the amount of space devoted to specific films seems to dwindle as the number of films grows in more recent years. As the narrative progresses, it feels like Conner is increasingly rushing toward the finish line.

And the finish line approaches rather abruptly. In his two-page epilogue (written in the summer of 2023), Conner mentions eleven recent films that had been released by that time but are not discussed elsewhere in the book.  He cites most of the films’ mixed reviews and lower than expected box office performance as evidence that the superhero film is “at a crossroads, or perhaps at a portal.” (189) Making such a claim but offering so little elaboration on what possibly lies beyond the crossroads/portal makes for a frankly less than satisfying conclusion.

Conner cobbled his narrative together “through books, articles, editorials, audio commentaries, podcasts, reviews and the movies and comics themselves.” (2)  And his bibliography is indeed impressive, although some original interviews might have added to the book’s value. While the book may lack depth, it succeeds in condensing almost a century of film and television history into an engaging and humorous narrative that should appeal to both longtime fans of the genre and general audiences.

Book Review: Superheroes! The History of a Pop-Culture Phenomenon from Ant-Man to Zorro

reviewed by Dominick Grace

Brian R. Solomon. Superheroes! The History of a Pop-Culture Phenomenon from Ant-Man to Zorro. Applause Theatre and Cinema Books, 2023. xxii + 322 pp. 26.95, paperback, 978-1493064519. https://rowman.com/ISBN/9781493064519/Superheroes!-The-History-of-a-Pop-Culture-Phenomenon-from-Ant-Man-to-Zorro

As the exclamation point in the title of Brian R. Solomon’s Superheroes! The History of a Pop-Culture Phenomenon from Ant-Man to Zorro indicates, this is a book that is enthusiastic about its subject matter. And while Superheroes! is published by a company that deals primarily in books on film and theatre—Solomon does pay a lot of attention to superhero films but does not reference any stage adaptations—the book also and appropriately focuses mainly on comic books, with some passing attention to comic strips. The A to Z reference in the title, coupled with the publisher’s assertion on its webpage that the book is “the ultimate reference book about” superheroes, suggests an encyclopedic coverage and structure that the book lacks.

The book offers a chronological history of the superhero—that is, characters with exceptional powers, rather than the superhero genre or industry per se—each of the sixteen chapters concluding with an “Icons” section focusing on a specific character. As the list of these figures indicates—Superman, Batman, the Flash, the Fawcett Captain Marvel, Green Lantern, Captain America, Wonder Woman, the Fantastic Four, the Hulk, Spider-Man, Thor, Iron Man, the X-Men, Black Panther, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and Spawn—Solomon's focus (unsurprisingly, but somewhat disappointingly) is on American superheroes, and further focused (also unsurprisingly) on the Big Two publishers and white, male figures (only one woman, only two Black superheroes, only three not published by Marvel or DC—one of whom is now in fact part of the DC stable, albeit renamed Shazam). While American superheroes are (at least in North America) the best-known such figures, and while the comic book superhero was created in North America, a book that is promoted as encyclopedic and the “ultimate reference book” should, I think, have offered a bit more diversity. To be fair, there is more diversity in the chapters proper, but the “Icons” selections are, I think, instructive. Superheroes other than those owned by the Big Two also tend to get short shrift (e.g. Charlton characters are only mentioned in passing and primarily in relation to DC’s repurposing of them). Ironically, perhaps, Zorro, referenced in the title, is discussed only briefly and in relation to the original 1919 pulp story, with no mention of any of his comics, film, or TV appearances.

Solomon begins with the question of definition, concluding that superheroes have three defining traits: some sort of exceptional ability (not necessarily superhuman); service to the greater good; and free agency (that is, they are not representatives of any formal system of law or government). He then lists some of the categories of extraordinariness such figures may possess: either exceptional training or some sort of technological augmentation; some sort of inherent or acquired physical/mental power (e.g. mutation, radioactive spider bite); supernatural/magical power; divine or quasi-divine status. This last perhaps most obviously leads to Solomon’s reiteration of the long-held association of superheroes with modern mythology and his tracing of the genesis of superheroes back to figures from myth (some of whom have, in fact, been folded into modern superhero universes—Thor, Hercules, etc.).

Subsequent chapters track the genesis of the superhero in comics and media from the earliest examples through to the explosion of superhero appearances on film and TV (chapters eight to twelve, in fact), followed by a chapter on supervillains, and one on famous superhero creators Chapter fifteen, “The Weird and Wonderful,” focuses on lesser-known and odd examples from comics and other media, including various parodic takes on superheroes, such as Too Much Coffee Man. Sadly, Solomon devotes only 10 pages to this section, entirely ignoring major examples such as the underground figures Trashman and Wonder Warthog, not to mention Kurtzman’s various superlative parodies in Mad and elsewhere, such as the Goodman Beaver stories about Tarzan and Superman. Chapter sixteen devotes a mere nine pages to superheroes from outside the USA, entirely skipping major regions such as India, China, and Africa. As a Canadian, I am perhaps overly irked by the devotion of part of only one sentence to Canada and the absence of any reference to Canadian characters other than Cerebus (admittedly, there are not many). Others may have different quibbles about who is excluded, as well as about occasional errors of fact (e.g. I was happy to see Asterix referenced but note that Solomon is off by over fifteen years in his dating of Asterix’s first appearance—which he gives as 1976 rather than 1959, and 1969 for the first English translation).

Basically, Solomon’s chapters are all short and breezy, skimming over the surface rather than offering deep dives. Even when specific characters do get extended treatment, this rarely runs for more than a page or two. In a relatively short survey trying to cover what is after all a huge number of characters, this is not really a flaw, but it does mean that readers should not expect in-depth discussion of their favorite characters, or new insights.

More troubling, perhaps, is Solomon’s general glossing over of the messy complexities of how superheroes were created and who benefited. For instance, Solomon does not question the Marvel position that Stan Lee basically created everything, with figures such as Kirby and Ditko, the former especially, not given their due. Similarly, Siegel and Shuster’s treatment by DC is barely mentioned and skewed favorably.

Overall, Superheroes! The History of a Pop-Culture Phenomenon from Ant-Man to Zorro is aimed at a general audience but offers only a minor addition to the array of books on the subject that are available already. It is not the comprehensive reference book it is promoted as being. Readers already well-versed in the history of the superhero are unlikely to find much here that will add to their knowledge. For those looking for a breezy overview of the genesis of the superhero, this book will serve well, especially as Solomon’s prose style is easily digestible, and his enthusiasm for superheroes is evident.

Book review: Marvel Comics in the 1970s: The World inside Your Head by Eliot Borenstein

 by CT Lim

Marvel Comics in the 1970s: The World inside Your Head. Eliot Borenstein. Cornell University Press, 2023. 267 pages, $23.95. https://www.cornellpress.cornell.edu/book/9781501769368/marvel-comics-in-the-1970s/

Do we really need another book on Marvel Comics? Hot on the heels of Douglas Wolk's monumental All of the Marvels (2021) comes a book about lesser discussed Marvel comics of the 1970s - focusing on the literary efforts of Steve Englehart (Doctor Strange, Captain Marvel, Captain America, the Avengers), Doug Moench (Deathlok, Werewolf by Night, Master of Kung Fu), Marv Wolfman (Tomb of Dracula), Don McGregor (Killraven, Luke Cage, Black Panther) and Steve Gerber (Man-Thing, Omega the Unknown, Howard the Duck). I am definitely more of a Marvel zombie than I thought, and I was intrigued enough to volunteer to review this book.

There are several questions to answer:

·         Why would Eliot Borenstein, a Professor of Russian and Slavic Studies at New York University, write a book about Marvel comics in the 1970s and what is the connection between that and his own discipline of Russian and Slavic studies?

·         How does this book compare to or complement Wolk's All of the Marvels?

·         Is Borenstein convincing in his arguments?

First, Borenstein has been teaching an annual general education course on graphic novels at New York University since 2007. As he explained in his preface about his 'secret origins.' the 1970s was the decade he discovered comics. But more importantly, in Marvel comics, he found a reflection of the concerns that occupied his teenage mind. As he explained, "Marvel was filled with characters who narrated their experience, second-guessing themselves. They got me out of my head by getting into theirs, which in turn helped me explore my own head better." In that sense, Borenstein pointed out Dostoyevsky was inevitable. While the fate of Rodion Raskolnikov now matters to him as much as the fate of Jean Grey, Borenstein never stopped being a comic fan nor forgot about the inner worlds and turmoil of Shang-Chi, T'Challa and Howard the Duck. (Borenstein also acknowledged the model provided by Jose Alaniz, another Slavist and fellow comics scholar, who also blurbed the book.)

It took some decades to reconcile the two worlds of Pushkin and the Punisher and to avoid incursions of having two parallel universes colliding and destroying one of them (apologies to Jonathan Hickman). Borenstein managed to construct a Battleworld (more apologies to Jim Shooter) where his two worlds coexist in his serialized blog on Marvel comics in the 1970s. This book is an extension and expansion of that - it is like the Ant-Man entering the body of the Vision to save him in Avengers #93 (drawn by Neal Adams, cover date Nov. 1971) but presented in the deluxe over-sized artist's edition format. But unlike superheroes, when we go deep into inner worlds, it is not just to save others. It is to save ourselves.

As for the comparisons with All of the Marvels, Borenstein acknowledges it as a book with "many points in common" especially Wolk's deep dive into The Master of Kung Fu, but the two approaches are very different. Borenstein made it very clear that his book is firmly planted in a crucial yet understudied decade that marks a turning point in the artistic development of the comics medium. To me, both complement each other. After reading Wolk's take on the Black Panther, you can easily pick up the Penguin classics Marvel collection with its valuable foreword and introduction by Nnedi Okorafor and Qiana J. Whittted respectively. And then move into Borenstein's chapter on Don McGregor's tortured romantic individualism and suffering black bodies.

For my third question, I must say Borenstein, makes a compelling case of the world inside your head created by the above-mentioned Marvel writers. This underscores the intentionality of these writers in focusing on creating an internal world of subjectivity for their readers. The action and violence in these Marvel comics mirror the inner (conflicted? confused?) state of the heroes and villains. I would like to linger on Borenstein's choice of phrase, "your head." It could be "our heads" but he chose yours. But this “yours” is not just the readers, but the fictional characters of Captain America, Captain Marvel and the Man-Thing as well. As Borenstein said, "I felt more like myself when I was able to sink into the minds of others." Is it a form of escapism? Or a way to figure out ourselves when we see some of our internal selves mirrored in the inner worlds of a Marvel comic?

As for the chapters, I enjoyed the Introduction the most - where Borenstein made the case for a 1990s Vertigo title, Enigma as the best Marvel comic of the 1970s. I won't go into the details as it is quite delightful to follow Borenstein's arguments when he made his case. I would just add that writer Peter Milligan's explorations into "your heads" began much earlier in his 2000 AD days when he wrote a wonderful strip, Hewligan's Haircut, drawn by the mercurial Jamie Hewlett.

You may ask what's new about these 1970s writers' approach. Didn't Stan Lee in the 1960s put forth the "drama of the visible self?" Spider-Man will talk through his problems (via internal and external monologue) while fighting Doctor Octopus. Borenstein explained: "If Lee's plots provided the opportunity to learn about his characters' inner lives, the 1970s writers often came close to prioritizing interiority over plot itself."

This goes back my own first encounters with Marvel comics in the 1970s. Having read The Beano and The Dandy British weeklies, some DC, and also Chinese comics, one of the first Marvel comic I laid my hands on was, of all things, Man-Thing #22 (cover date Oct 1975). I can't remember how I got it, but it was the most bizarre thing I had read when it landed in my hands. It starts with writer Steve Gerber writing to editor Len Wein about why he cannot continue to write the Man-Thing anymore and it just becomes more metafictional and internal from there. My curiosity about Borenstein's book probably stems from this primary reading experience.

If there is a weak chapter, it is the coda of Chris Claremont’s rise in the popular Uncanny X-Men comics of the late 1970s and 1980s. After making his argument of the complex inner worlds created by writers like Steve Gerber, Borenstein's concluding line leaves much hanging: "Claremont, his collaborators, and his heirs found that presenting their heroes as superficially complex open books was a recipe for success." He argued that Claremont's X-Men invites readers into the heroes' minds while making the process of identification effortless. I feel more elaboration and examples are needed. What led to the 'decline' of writers like Steve Englehart (who went on to write a memorable Batman run at DC as well as the Justice League of America - how does that compare to his Avengers?) and the rise of Claremont, whose interiority was not that of Gerber or Moench or Wolfman? What happen to these writers when they left Marvel and the 1970s receded into the past? Did they leave interiority behind? For example, did Wolfman follow the success of the superficiality of Claremont for his Teen Titans series in the 1980s? For that, one would have to look for answers in recent books like The Other 1980s: Reframing Comics' Crucial Decade which has chapters on Moench and Gerber, and also Steve Gerber: Conversations. It is unfortunate the Kickstarter of Moench's Aztec Ace has gone off rails with money collected and the backers not receiving their copies. Some of these comics can be reprinted and reevaluated - Gerber's Phantom Zone stories for DC, Gerber's return to Howard the Duck in She-Hulk, and McGregor's Sabre.

Borenstein states that Claremont's approach was a much more commercially appealing formula that combined the prolixity of McGregor with the declarative tradition of Stan Lee. This deserves fuller exploration. I, for one, would like to understand the rise of Claremont studies, as seen in The Claremont Run on Twitter at https://twitter.com/ClaremontRun and now also collected as a book, The Claremont Run: Subverting Gender in the X-Men by J. Andrew Deman (University of Texas Press, 2023).

Nonetheless, this book is an excellent read for the Marvel fan and a worthy contribution to comics studies of serialized American superhero comic books of the 1970s. Long may the 70s run. 

Book Review: With Great Power: How Spider-Man Conquered Hollywood During the Golden Age of Comic Book Blockbusters.

 

Reviewed by Viola Burlew

Sean O’Connell. With Great Power: How Spider-Man Conquered Hollywood During the Golden Age of Comic Book Blockbusters. Essex, Connecticut: Applause Theater and Cinema Books, 2022. http://applausebooks.com/books/9781493066193

            There is perhaps no more iconic character in the Marvel universe than Spider-Man. Over the course of sixty years, various creative teams have depicted the web-slinger as an “everyday” superhero, from the first of his kind to his present-day status as a figurehead of the type. To examine the impact the character has had on superhero culture requires examining the intricacies of multiple versions of the character in print and digital media alike.

            Sean O’Connell’s With Great Power… achieves this feat and more. O’Connell’s work follows the growth of Spider-Man from a comic book fill-in feature to the big screen’s friendly neighborhood, billion-dollar-generating hero.

Decade by decade, he analyzes how different adaptations of Spider-Man have shaped both the character and the superhero film industry itself. He works his way from the 1960s to the 1990s in the book’s earliest chapters, demonstrating how repeated production failures adapting Spider-Man indicated a general apathy towards the comic book film genre. These early attempts to create an on-screen hero lacked a recognizable comic book feel, an element O’Connell argues is necessary to have a successful, and faithful, adaptation, in part due to technological limitations. Financial and licensing issues played their own part in delaying Spider-Man's appearance on the big screen, as O'Connell further details in his discussion of James Cameron's unproduced Spider-Man film of the 1990s. As a result, it is not until the 2000s that a Spider-Man appears with any kind of memorability on the big screen. 

It is from this moment forward, with the development of Sam Rami’s Spider-Man films, that O’Connell can truly delve into the complexities surrounding the on-screen character and subsequent adaptations. O’Connell’s close analyses of Tobey Maguire, Andrew Garfield, and Tom Holland’s depictions of the character, coupled with detailed accounts of Sony and Marvel’s bargaining over Spider-Man’s rights and marketability, reveal just how crucial Spider-Man was to the creation of the now-popular superhero universes. Strikingly, O’Connell does not pit these films against one another in his analysis. Instead, he traces their progression up to the present day, arguing that each Spider-Man product is a worthy successor to that which came before it. Though he clearly outlines certain missteps, his arc of Spider-Man media points to a consistent rise in quality, with each new film meaning something different to its creators and, crucially, its audience.

While the book is a chronological approach to Spider-Man’s development, O’Connell also offers readers a brief history of the superhero film market itself. He argues that Spider-Man has long been at the center of the genre’s development, with production companies seeing Spider-Man as the character that would launch a great wave of superhero films and sequels. In building these stories around a single character, O’Connell demonstrates that Spider-Man not only “conquered” the blockbuster golden age, but that the genre grew out of and around him.

With Great Power clearly demonstrates O’Connell’s passion for Spider-Man’s character and history. One of the text’s great strengths is O’Connell’s ability to tell these stories with a touch of personal flair—not a bias that privileges one adaptation over the other, but a fondness that seems to stem from genuine care for the character’s legacy. His interest in Spider-Man as a fan could be expanded upon; an occasional weakness of the text is the cursory nature of fan community responses, which undercuts O’Connell’s discussion of Spider-Man reboots and recasting. But this absence is largely secondary in examining the overall depth of O’Connell’s work and his apparent affection for Spider-Man.

This affection is precisely what makes for the most powerful portions of the text. O’Connell shares not only his own personal identification with Spider-Man, but others’ identification as well. He references Rami’s personal connections to Spider-Man, Garfield’s great love of the character, and Holland’s attachment to the role. These moments, in which creative teams find themselves reflecting on their personal relationship with the character, provide the evidence for O’Connell’s richest claim: that “Spider-Man belongs to everyone, and he belongs to no one.” (129) As much as Spider-Man legitimately belongs to the corporations who have battled over him, O’Connell emphasizes that Spider-Man also “belongs” to those that see themselves as embodying some element of his character. Their attachment to him gives them stake in his narratives, in the pieces of themselves they see reflected into him. When these are the individuals creating Spider-Man narratives, this fondness of him is what O’Connell sees as part of each adaptation’s success. While corporations create the need for constant creation and remakes, Spider-Man is at his best when he, even for a moment, “belongs” to someone who cares about his history and his legacy. 

This guiding ideology shapes With Great Power into a character study predominantly about the power of connection and personal truth in adaptation. These emotional moments of recognition, shared among Spider-Man’s many makers, are what make the character truly great. O’Connell reflects on this in his final discussions of the most recent Spider-Man adaptations, Into the Spider-Verse and No Way Home. These final films emphasize the hero’s place among a vast multiverse, where many Spider-people, and Spider-creators, can find themselves reflected in the character’s story. O’Connell concludes his analysis here, with two overarching takeaways: Spider-Man’s history is fascinating, and his legacy is powerful.

Overall, O’Connell weaves an intricate web through the superhero movie genre with Spider-Man constantly at its center. With Great Power deftly demonstrates not just the power of the superhero film, or the power of a classic character, but the potential for greatness still to come from a character that wields as much power in our universe as he does in his own.