If you usually skip the comic book section of these logs, it'll be a short read this month. If you don't, then buckle up...my brother Nathan gave me a big stack at Christmas, and I spent all month plowing through it. Take a look!
6 Articles I Like This Month
"What Thomas Jefferson Could Never Understand About Jesus" by Vinson Cunningham, The New Yorker. 16 minutes.
A fascinating, enlightening (pun intended) survey of Thomas Jefferson's views about Jesus and how they contrast with traditional Christian teachings.
"The Plague Year" by Lawrence Wright, The New Yorker. 125 minutes.
An ambitious overview of America's response to the pandemic over the course of 2020, covering everything from science to medicine to the economy to politics. A must-read.
"The Joys of Being an Absolute Beginner—for Life" by Tom Vanderbilt, The Guardian. 15 minutes.
Nobody likes the first stage of learning, when you're an absolute beginner without any kind of a leg up. But as Tom Vanderbilt argues here, that stage of learning brings with it crucial lessons, not to mention a helpful dose of humility.
"He Just Wanted to Play Catch. They Got Relief from Troubled Times." by Mike Wilson, The New York Times. 6 minutes.
74-year old Frank Miller, after a year cooped up at home, just needed a partner to play catch with. When his wife Alice put the request on NextDoor, a multigenerational group of baseball lovers turned out. A heartwarming story about baseball's power to bring people together.
"The Greatest (Forgotten) Game Ever Played" by Tom Verducci, Sports Illustrated. 9 minutes.
The fascinating story of an exhibition game between 23 Major League Baseball Hall of Famers who met at Dodger Stadium to raise money for the Southern Christian Leadership Conference following Dr. King's assassination.
"Waking Up from the American Dream" by Karla Cornejo Villavicencio, The New Yorker. 15 minutes.
An account of what life is like as an undocumented immigrant, particularly about the debt that Dreamers feel they owe their parents. Beautifully written and insightful.
THE LUCKIEST MAN: THE LIFE AND DEATH OF LOU GEHRIG by Jonathan Eig
Ever since reading a children's biography of Lou Gehrig in elementary school, he has been on my Mount Rushmore of baseball heroes (alongside Jackie Robinson, Roberto Clemente, and a player to be named later.) Jonathan Eig's The Luckiest Man offers a fuller picture of Gehrig's life and death than that kids' book did, portraying the Yankees star as a quiet, humble mama's boy whose identity was defined by endurance and perseverance till his dying day.
A child of German-American immigrants, Gehrig was a New Yorker his whole life, raised by a dynamo of a mother who was the moon and the stars for most of his life—not until several years into his marriage did Gehrig finally start to cut the cord even a little bit. The biggest thing his parents infused him with was an indefatigable work ethic, so it was somewhat ironic when it became apparent that a game would be his ticket to fame and fortune.
As a member of his hometown New York Yankees, Gehrig was always overshadowed by Babe Ruth, who was arguably the most famous man on the planet. at the time Nevertheless, Eig makes the compelling argument that for at least a portion of the overlapping careers of the two men, Gehrig was actually the more valuable player, frequently knocking in more runs and playing superior defense to the Bambino. Gehrig carved out his own legacy during this time, not by swatting home runs like the Babe (though he did that too) but by showing up for work day in and day out no matter what ailments or nagging injuries he was dealing with. As Eig insightfully puts it, if Ruth was the perfect star for the glitzy Jazz Age, Gehrig was the epitome of Depression-era America, a man grateful for his work and committed to quietly going about his business.
If Gehrig is well known for his playing career, he is better known for its end, precipitated by the disease which now bears his name. It was Gehrig's stoic perseverance in battling the disease and his brief, stirring speech at Yankee Stadium—"Today I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the earth"—that transformed him from a ballplayer to a national hero. Only via his declining health and eventual death did America start to realize what a treasure they'd had all along.
The Luckiest Man was a great read, balancing Gehrig's playing career with more personal aspects of his life, especially his relationships with his wife, mother, and the teammate who overshadowed him for much of their careers. The final third of the book deals with his painful decline, diagnosis, and death; while this section does occasionally get bogged down in medical jargon, it's a necessary and well-researched account. For baseball fans, this biography is a must-read; for those with only a passing interest in the sport I'd still recommend it as a clear-eyed look at an American hero.
A CONNECTICUT YANKEE IN KING ARTHUR'S COURT by Mark Twain
Is modernity really better than antiquity? That's the big question being addressed in A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court, Mark Twain's fable about a modern man magically transported to the days of Camelot who remakes that bygone kingdom in the image of the late 19th century. In the story, Henry Morgan, a thoroughly modern man, introduces all sorts of technological marvels to Camelot, winning fame and fortune for himself and helping the kingdom to prosper. But the end result is a Camelot decimated by the very technology he introduced, war-torn and all but destroyed.
Despite the dark ending, most of the book is a satire, poking fun at the chivalric notions of Camelot through the modern eyes of the reader and adding in some social commentary about 19th century evils like slavery and aristocracy. And, typical of Twain, it's legitimately funny, and makes the book a breezy read overall. There's action, there's romance, there's humor—it's a fun read, to be sure.
But it's those apocalyptic final chapters, which see Morgan massacring enemy knights with Gatling guns, that will remain with you long after you've put the book down. Perhaps Twain, writing in the Progressive Era and the Industrial Revolution, saw much to be feared as well as admired about the changes to the world. Is modernity better than antiquity? It's a question to which this book refuses to give a simple answer.
David McCullough is one of our nation's foremost historians, up there with Doris Kearns Goodwin as one of the only people in his field who is an honest-to-goodness household name. Truman, his biography of the 33rd president, is one of the finest books I've ever read. I anticipate reading many more of his books in my lifetime.
That being said, 1776 didn't do it for me.
As the title and cover probably led you to assume, 1776 is McCullough's account of the beginnings of the American Revolution. More specifically, it deals with the Battles of Dorcester Heights, Long Island, and Trenton, and how those early engagements between the American and British soldiers shaped the war. Glossing over the political aspects of the war—the signing of the Declaration of Independence is covered in just a few paragraphs—this is primarily a military history with biographical notes on key figures like George Washington, Henry Knox, Nathaniel Greene, and William Howe.
That was likely my issue in reading this book, which was both critically acclaimed and enthusiastically received by the public—I'm just not big on military history. When McCullough put the reader in the minds of the main characters, I was riveted; when he described what life was like for the soldiers, I was fascinated. But when he would start explaining military strategy, I quickly lost interest. It's just not my thing, and even David McCullough couldn't change that.
If you have a higher tolerance for that kind of narrative, I suspect you will really appreciate 1776. McCullough's writing is compelling and accessible, he wisely telescopes in on a few major figures, and his story is events-driven instead of ideological. 1776 wasn't my cup of tea, but that doesn't mean it was bad.
FLASHPOINT by Geoff Johns, Andy Kubert, and Sandra Hope
This story, a Flash-centric crossover event, is most famous for its result: the New 52, DC Comics' reboot of all of its titles back to issue #1. But before that earth-shattering ending, there was a story that needed to be told. And hey, it's a pretty good one!
Flashpoint is your classic alternate reality tale, one which sees Barry Allen/the Flash wake up in a world that bears resemblances to his own, but also showcases any number of dramatic differences. Upon realizing that something's amiss, he seeks out Batman, only to find that this earth's Dark Knight is not Bruce Wayne, but his very-much-alive father, Thomas. Teaming up with Batman, they must do what they can to return Flash to his own time before the increasingly dystopian world reaches its breaking point.
Like any alternate reality story, the fun of this one was seeing depictions of familiar characters that were askew enough to be interesting. In this reality Wonder Woman and Aquaman are at war, the aforementioned Batman is a grieving father instead of an orphaned son, and Superman is a lab rat who has never seen the sun. Things are interesting enough that I would have actually been on board with a few more issues of the series (something rarely said about event comics, which almost always tend to drag on too long.)
The end result of the story didn't exactly change the DC Universe forever—just until people got tired of the New 52 and DC started backpedaling—but it was a fun ride. Good story, great writing, and great superhero art.
FINAL CRISIS by Grant Morrison, J.G. Jones, Marco Rudy, Carlos Pacheco, and Doug Mahnke
As polarizing today as it was when it first came out, Final Crisis was Grant Morrison's attempt to, as the title suggests, tell the story of the DC Universe's ultimate crisis event, one that would define and reshape the universe forever. However, due to an unhealthy combination of Grant Morrison's muddy vision and interference from DC's editorial office, the result instead is a convoluted, dense story brimming with potential that fails to live up to the possibilities it presents.
Final Crisis sees Darkseid and the gods of Apokalips come to Earth disguised as humans, determined to conquer not just Earth but reality itself through the dreaded Anti-Life Equation, which takes away people's free will. It's the invasion story Jack Kirby began telling 40 years earlier now modernized and brought to its full potential, no longer a cold war between the New Gods but now a full-blown crisis event. Earth's heroes, aided by the New Gods and an exiled member of the cosmic Monitors, must bend the laws of time and reality to stop Darkseid's plan before Earth and the universe itself collapse in on themselves.
As epic stories go, it's hard to imagine a concept bigger than this one for the DC Universe. The problem is the delivery of that concept. Told in 7 oversized issues, Final Crisis has way too much going on at once, making this a story that's all plot with no space for character moments. What's more, despite the way each issue feels jam-packed, you always get the feeling that you missed something off-panel. Some of this is likely intentional—it helps create the sense of crisis that the story demands—but it also leaves the reader feeling like they're hanging on to the story by a thread. What's more, this is a tale I can't imagine anyone but the most dedicated of DC fans truly understanding. If you walk in with only a casual understanding of the New Gods or DC's previous Crisis stories, you'd be lost from page one. I'm all for rewarding diehard fans, but the barrier to entry on this story is steep.
Ultimately, Final Crisis is perceived by most comics readers as a failure, and while I appreciated it more than I expected to, I'm inclined to agree. The premise is excellent, the mood is pitch perfect, but the delivery of the story—especially as it careens towards its end—is overwhelmed by its own ambition. Unless you're a diehard comics fan, I'd stay away from Final Crisis.
THE MULTIVERSITY by Grant Morrison and Various ArtistsIn 1961's "Flash of Two Worlds" story, DC laid the foundation for what would become known as the multiverse, a concept in which there were actually a series of universes, some which closely mirrored one another and others which were dramatically different from the rest. 1989's Crisis on Infinite Earths eliminated the multiverse in the name of simplicity and synergy, merging the most important (read: popular) parts of the multiverse into one united DC Universe. Final Crisis brought the multiverse back, announcing in its final pages that there were now 52 universes. The Multiversity, a series of oversized one-shots, is Grant Morrison's exploration of the DC Multiverse and, more broadly and ambitiously, his attempt to explain and bring together every DC comic—from the standards, like the familiar Batman and Superman of Earth-One, to the zanier figures like Captain Carrot and the Zoo Crew of Earth-26.
The plot is difficult to describe (this is after all, a Grant Morrison project), but here goes. The Gentry, a series of Big Bads from outside the Multiverse, infiltrate the worlds of the Multiverse through a comic book (meta!) and Nix Uotan, the exiled Monitor from Final Crisis, teams up with a team of heroes from throughout the multiverse to stop them. Sounds simple, right? Ha.
The truth is that most of these issues wind up being self-contained adventure stories rather than tying in to the bigger plot; they're an opportunity for Morrison to write every genre DC has with a bunch of forgotten characters. And if you just read them that way, they're delightful, aided by outstanding art from leading lights such as Jim Lee, Frank Quitely, and Ivan Reis.
Critics smarter than me insist that The Multiversity is actually Morrison's meta-commentary on the comic book industry, his noble insistence that comics must be fun above all else rather than pandering to critics and intellectuals. If they're right, I missed that message. But I did enjoy the stories, even when I didn't fully understand how they tied together. Unlike Final Crisis, which borders on incomprehensible by the end, The Multiversity is more of a "your mileage may vary" experience—you may think it's a work of genius or you may think it's absurd nonsense. Consider me somewhere in between those two poles.
BLACKEST NIGHT by Geoff Johns and Ivan Reis
This was...a lot. Not bad; it's actually one of the more successful event books I've read in a while. But by the end, my eyes were glazing over a little at the amount of characters, the scale of the conflict, and the sheer epicness of it all. This book is a triple chocolate ice cream sundae with hot fudge and sprinkles on top...good stuff, but maybe a little too much.
Blackest Night offers a compelling villain, Nekron and the Black Lanterns, who are resurrecting long-dead DC characters as zombies and seeking out heroes who were once dead only to be resurrected (which is a lot of characters, because comics.) For about half the series, there's a fascinating meta-commentary going on about the nature of death in comics, and it's legitimately chilling to see beloved martyr characters returning as zombified Black Lanterns.
Unfortunately in the second half of the story it becomes less a DC Universe crossover and more of a Green Lantern story, and the pace gets increasingly more breakneck and difficult to follow. By the end, I confess I was mostly reading in a "ooooh pretty colors" sense rather than with a discerning eye. Indeed, I'm not sure I could summarize for you how the heroes eventually win.
That being said, this is the rare crossover event whose story ambitions match the marketing goals. And I can't say enough about Ivan Reis' art, which is comparable to George Perez in his prime (high praise!) If you're wanting to keep track of what's gone on in the DC Universe in the last 20 years, you can't miss this story. And, imperfect though it may be, you won't want to.
SHAZAM: DELUXE EDITION by Geoff Johns and Gary Frank
If you've seen 2019's Shazam!, then you've basically already read this book. But if you liked that movie—I did—then that shouldn't stop you from picking this up. After all, as literally every reviewer pointed out, it's pretty much Big but with superheroes. And doesn't that sound like a blast?
Shazam is the story of Billy Batson, a foster kid who is chosen by an ancient wizard to become Earth's mightiest defender. Armed with strength, invulnerability, and the power to fly, he is opposed by the ruthless Black Adam (who will soon be played by Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson in his own movie). Only by casting aside his loner personality and trusting his new family is Shazam able to triumph.
Originally told through backup installments in Justice League, this reads like a graphic novel (so much so that I can't imagine reading it in smaller chunks.) It's a simple, delightful story, with enough earnestness and heart to suit the character perfectly. If I were to give a child a modern comic book, I very well might choose this one. Of all the comics I read this month, I don't know that this book was my favorite, but it was the hardest to put down.
SUPERMAN: SECRET ORIGIN by Geoff Johns and Gary Frank
The telling and retelling and retelling of the retelling of superhero origin stories can get tiresome. It's why Martha Wayne's broken pearl necklace has become a meme on the Internet. It's why Marvel Studios wisely skipped Peter Parker's transformation into Spider-Man when they introduced the third iteration of the character. With iconic superheroes, we generally want to blow past the origin story and get to the good stuff.
The exception is Superman, whose origin story—the last survivor of an alien planet who grew up on Earth in obscurity and emerged as its adopted son and greatest defender—is always ripe for a fresh interpretation. I never get tired of another take on how Kal-El/Clark Kent became Superman, and Geoff Johns and Gary Frank's Secret Origin series is a worthy entry in the canon.
The story deals with the emergence of Clark's powers in puberty and his growing understanding that he can use those powers to help people. Beginning in his hometown of Smallville and stretching into his move to Metropolis, the story sees Superman meet the key characters in his supporting cast—Jimmy Olson, Perry White, and, of course, Lois Lane—as well as battle a few key villains like Metallo, Parasite, both of whom work for Lex Luthor. But as is so often the case, the real story is of Clark reconciling his Kryptonian heritage with his heartland upbringing, deciding whether he is an alien or a human. The answer to that riddle comes on the series' final page, when Lois asks, "Are you a man or an alien?" With his patented Christopher Reeves smile, the hero answers, "I'm Superman, Lois."
Those looking for deviations from the traditional origin story won't find them here; this is pretty much a straight retelling of the story you probably know by heart. But Johns has a firm understanding of what makes the character tick, and Frank's bright, clean art is a good match for both the story and the character. If you love Superman's origin story as much as I do, Secret Origin is a worthy addition to your library.
SUPERMAN: BIRTHRIGHT by Mark Waid and Leinil Francis Yu
Hey look, another Superman origin story! Where Secret Origin dealt primarily with Clark's upbringing in Kansas, Birthright deals more with his early days in Metropolis, including his earliest battles with Lex Luthor and the blossoming of his relationship with Lois Lane. What's more, this series devotes its energies to how Superman reconciles with his alien heritage and wins the trust of Earth's public when they learn of his origins.
The biggest difference between the two, however, is probably in the depiction of Jonathan and Martha Kent. In Birthright, Martha is portrayed as Clark's biggest fan and enabler, doing everything she can to help him live up to his potential. Jonathan, on the other hand, comes off as short-sighted and bitter, more concerned with his son's safety than his destiny. Kevin Costner's depiction of Jonathan in 2013's Man of Steel movie owes a lot to this story's portrayal of the character—and that's not exactly a compliment.
To be frank, this one wasn't as compelling for me as Secret Origin. Mark Waid is a comics legend, and in bringing Superman into the 21st century he does a splendid job, but some of his scripting is stilted at times. And Leinil Francis Yu, while an indisputably talented artist, isn't a good fit for the Man of Steel in my estimation. His angular, sharp lines, while a good match for street-level characters, aren't a good match for the Big Blue Boy Scout. Birthright is a well told story, but a little longer than it needs to be and a little too cool for school. A good story, but not the definitive origin story as far as I'm concerned.
