Customer Reviews

Supergods: What Masked Vigilantes, Miraculous Mutants, and a Sun God from Smallville Can Teach Us About Being Human

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1 star:		(4)

 

 

Grant Morrison, comic book luminary, presents a thoughtful dissection of the comic book industry, from its origins to the present. It's not what I was expecting, but it was very interesting, and an analysis worthy of a doctoral thesis. It is, in turns, the biography of the comic book industry, an examination of the sociology of the western world since the depression-era appearance of Superman, autobiography of Morrison himself, and review of how real life and the world of the superheroic are converging.

Morrison begins his book, fittingly, with an examination of what made Superman and Batman iconic when they first appeared. For me, this was fascinating, recognizing that the Superman I knew had started not just as an archetypal hero of strength with bold colors of the daytime, but a symbol of the strength of the individual and middle-American farmers against industry and big business during the Great Depression. On the other end of the spectrum was Batman, a big-city, wealthy hero in the dark of night, whose intellect was his only power. Batman was tested by a series of villains inspired by psychiatric disorders, whom he would physically beat into submission.

From there, the author broadens his scope to track the development of the industry as it is influenced by political and cultural changes such as McCarthyism, heroes from the age of science inspired by Kennedy's presidency, the rise of psychedelia and the drug culture, the gritty vigilantism of the 70s and 80s, the events and repercussions of 9/11, and expansion into the film industry.

At the end, Morrison discusses not just what happens to superheroes as they are influenced by the times to become more realistic and lifelike in comic books, but recognizes a growing movement in the real world for individuals influenced by comic book heroes to do good deeds while donning costumes of their own.

While there was a point in Morrison's autobiographical tale where I found myself not relating to him because of his life-choices, By the end, I understood him as he gained understanding of himself and why he made those choices.

I highly recommend this book as a thoughtful, well-researched and reasoned history and socio-political presentation on superhumans and the creators who chronicle them.

Part critical history of comics, part memoir of the writing trade, part mashup of fringe science, pop psychology, and this month's secrets-of-marketing-trends business bestseller, this entertaining, inchoate mess of a book purports to be an essay on superheroes and their significance to us. Of course, significance is in the eye of the beholder when it comes to pop culture, and while experience and common sense may tell us that the detective, the spy, the soldier, and the gangster are fictional archetypes with genuinely universal appeal, the superhero remains, like jazz, an American phenomenon that, in other countries, comes across either as an imitation of the American product, or as something based on such specifically regional imaginative archetypes as to fall outside the "superhero" label altogether. (Harry Potter, anyone?)

Why is the superhero an American rather than a global phenomenon? Morrison doesn't really have an answer for that, but the fun of this story -- and any mythology is all about stories that should've happened -- lies in the telling. Morrison sees the cyclical rise and fall of the superhero comic as a recursive process of imaginative evolution, and devises a four-part structure (like FINNEGANS WAKE) to contain and illustrate the theme. "The Golden Age" and "The Silver Age" are funny and critically astute assessments of the subject, although newspaper comic strips and pulp fiction are simply omitted from the discussion, which leaves out the Spirit, the Phantom, Doc Savage, and the Shadow. This may be only because the author didn't grow up with these characters.

What Morrison dubs "The Dark Age" (1970-1995) sees the rise of "realism" in superhero comics, sparked by Vietnam, Watergate, the '70s economic recession, an aging fandom, and the emergence of Morrison's bête noire, Alan Moore, whose downbeat, ruthlessly logical (and bestselling) stories of superheroes who CAN'T save the world caused a paradigm shift in comics writing. For Morrison, realism cripples the imagination of superhero comics writers, and he preferred to seek inspiration in "situationism, the occult, travel, and hallucinogens," not to mention hundreds of unfashionably goofy superhero comics from the '50s and '60s. His response to realism at that time was the exploration of ANIMAL MAN's fictional universe, "more real" than our own, and DOOM PATROL, relaunched as a book about superpowered PWDs (Persons with Disabilities) who fought threats to reason and to consensus reality.

"The Renaissance" is, surprise, dominated by Morrison's discussion of his own work: THE INVISIBLES as public self-therapy, the long-forgotten FLEX MENTALLO as mental housecleaning, JLA and NEW X-MEN as superior hackwork, BATMAN AND ROBIN as Adam West and Burt Ward meet David Lynch, and FINAL CRISIS as a deliberately "rambling, meaningless, and disconnected" retort to the success of IDENTITY CRISIS, WANTED, DARK REIGN, and to comics fandom in general. (Morrison makes an interesting distinction between horrific "fans" and hip, literate "readers.") While he can be devastatingly funny, as when he's describing Jimmy Olsen's 1950s adventures in cross-dressing, or the checkered history of Batman on film, he can also be uncomfortably confessional: I learned more than I ever wanted to know about the author's messy personal life, and I can't shake the impression SUPERGODS leaves of an entertaining magazine article, spun out, at the last minute, to the length of a sloppy and rather embarrassing book. A waste of time? No. Just less than the sum of its occasionally hilarious parts.

Who should buy Supergods? Some of the negative reviews below are from readers complaining that this book isn't what they thought it was. To clarify: Supergods is partly a history and critical analysis of the superhero concept and partly Grant Morrison's autobiography as an artist. There are dozens, perhaps a hundred pages in the book that analyze key superhero comic book classics (Watchmen, The Dark Knight Returns, various Golden Age and Silver Age classics), so if you haven't read those yet, start there. Also, in my opinion there's little point in reading a writer's biography if you haven't read some of their best works. For Morrison, the best to start with are Arkham Asylum, All Star Superman, We3, and The Invisibles, (while fans of longer, more traditional superhero series may want to check out his bestselling runs on New X-Men, JLA, and Batman). Readers already well-versed in superhero comics and particularly readers already familiar with Morrison's unique brand of cerebral, trippy, idea-filled fiction will get the most from Supergods.

About half the book traces the history of the comic book superhero, from its creation in the Golden Age of comics through its multiple (and discrete) evolutions in the '50s, '60s, '70s, '80s, '90s, and '00s. Morrison analyzes key superhero comics at length, and his dissections of their creative origins, meaning, psychological underpinnings and relation to their times are generally fun and interesting. I sometimes skipped his descriptions of comics I haven't yet read. Morrison brings his best insights to sustained explications of The Dark Knight Returns and Watchmen, and although these masterpieces have been analyzed to death by commentators over the past two decades, Morrison's analyses are surprisingly fresh and original. I've read Watchmen half a dozen times and Morrison points out a number of things I never noticed or considered. Which, let's recall, is what important critics do. Unfortunately by the time Morrison gets to the '90s and '00s, he has little negative or truly critical to say about other prominent and/or best-selling superhero works, most of which were written by his friends or colleagues (Mark Millar, Mark Waid, Warren Ellis and others). Although he analyzes their importance well enough, I got the sense that he didn't want to say anything bad about the works of his friends or creators younger than himself.

Morrison's not shy about engaging the works of Alan Moore, though, and Supergods is his most sustained explanation of his relationship with Moore's works. Morrison and Moore are arguably the two greatest living interpreters of the superhero concept, rival gods warring over the same turf who have planted their career-defining flags on the same soil (deconstruction of the superhero and the incorporation of "magic" into narrative)... and Morrison has always seemed uncomfortable, even insecure, about that. I've read a dozen interviews over the years where Morrison casually dismissed or outright insulted Moore and his works. In Supergods, though, Morrison seems to set these petty issues to rest. He admits his praise for Moore's work and maturely articulates what he did and does dislike about some of them, while keeping a bit of the (bestselling, fan-favorite) Morrison/Moore super arch-rivalry intact.

The third string in Morrison's narrative quartet is his autobiography as a comics creator. He recalls his family upbringing in Scotland, followed by a portrait of the artist as a young man and his climb up the ladder of the small but vibrant UK comics scene of the '80s. We get a solid history of when and how he wrote his major works, starting with the "British invasion" of the early '90s under the Vertigo label (a golden age that I, and many comic readers of my generation, fondly recall as practically life-altering in influence). We also get a lot on his travels around the world, his fascinating attempts to make his art influence his life, and his experiments with psychedelics, including an extended description of the (seemingly drug-induced) vision/out of body experience/"alien abduction" he experienced in Kathmandu just as he began writing The Invisibles. Morrison's views on "magic" and "rituals" would get tiresome in the hands of lesser writers, but the fact that he's built one of the most artistically and financially successful careers in comics on those foundations makes his exploration of those far-out concepts hard to dismiss.

As Morrison readers know, the man has a seemingly unlimited supply of ideas that erupt from his brain onto the page, too numerous for him (or us) to begin to explore in depth, and this is the root of his biggest strengths and weaknesses. The pages of Supergods are littered with mostly interesting asides and concepts, whole handfuls of them just tossed out there, but the book can get a bit exhausting, especially because of insightful but fairly long descriptions of comics we either haven't read or don't have in front of us for comparison, like listening to film commentary tracks without seeing the films. Morrison's ardent belief in a few questionable new age concepts may raise some eyebrows (like the ability to heal pets through sheer force of will and a theory on solar radiation and zeitgeist that made even me, a lifelong Morrison reader, shake my head), but again-- it's Grant Morrison. His best works are never easy and I'm willing to roll with some occasional nonsense.

The fourth and arguably most important part of Supergods is the theory Morrison uses to tie this all together. In the illuminating final chapters, Morrison weaves together the lessons from his life, his art, and the superhero, and points out the ways that we, the readers, can begin to apply them to our own art and lives.

In short, Supergods is a summation of Morrison's lifelong artistic journey, a synthesis of lessons learned from years of fearless (and tireless) personal and artistic experimentation. And surprise! The psychedelic enfant terrible, the Johhny Rotten of comic books, has mellowed and matured into one of the sanest, most grounded, most decent, most human voices in the medium. I've never personally thanked a writer in an Amazon review before, but thanks, Grant. I feel truly enriched by your many great journeys and now by Supergods.

As a long-time comic book fan - in particular, a superhero comic book fan - I've always enjoyed reading histories of the medium and have picked up a few over the years. Grant Morrison's Supergods is a different sort of comic book history: while there is some focus on the historic figures (Siegel and Shuster, Stan Lee, etc.), Morrison's book focuses on the evolution of the characters and the story-telling.

Morrison divides his history into four ages. The first two correspond with the general terminology of comic book history: the Golden Age and the Silver Age. The Golden Age was the rise of the superheroes: Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, Captain Marvel and others. Within just a few years from the first appearance of the first superhero (Superman), comic book heroes became multimedia, starring not only in comic books and newspaper strips, but in movies, cartoons and radio shows as well. As World War II came to a close, however, and superheroes became less in vogue, many would fade away. What changing popular interests didn't kill, the paranoid Frederick Wertham almost did, creating a fear of comics that would result in the Comics Code. The Code would water down stories to barely readable kiddie lit.

In the DC Silver Age, new versions of old heroes would rise from the ashes, most notably the Green Lantern and the Flash. Meanwhile, Marvel became the place to go to for the best characters with the rise of the Fantastic Four, Hulk, Spiderman and many others. While the early Superman and Batman had a bit of an edge (and Wonder Woman, a bit of raciness), by the 1950s, they were flat. The Marvel heroes, in contrast, were real characters with flaws as well as virtures.

The next age for Morrison is the Dark Age, a period where characters get darker. The Green Lantern and Green Arrow became representatives of right and left as they dealt with more "real world" problems like drugs, racism and poverty. Batman would shed his campy image and again become a creature of the night. This era would end with the grim and grittiness of the late 1980s and early 1990s (inspired by the Dark Knight works of Frank Miller) and the style-over-substance glitz of the Image works by writer/artists like Rob Liefeld. Fortunately, there would be Morrison's fourth age, the Renaissance, where storytelling would improve again and there'd be both more realistic superheroes and a nostalgic look at an earlier, gentler era.

I am really glossing over a lot of what Morrison has to say about the evolving mythology of superheroes and what their tales teach us (as all good myths do). While much of this is (by Amazon ratings) five star material, the book falters where Morrison injects himself too much into his book with biographical material and some New Age gobbledygook that I just wanted to skip over (though I didn't). That material is barely three star stuff, but the overall work averages around four stars. When this book is good, it's often very good and that makes it a worthy read.

While fiction often reflects what we hope life will be like in the future, it is generally a descriptor of the now. It is also a repository for our collective fantasies, goals and dreams. Nearly every child has imagined stretching their arms over their head and flying like Superman. The least fortunate of us lose most of that ability to imagine when they get older, their lives are locked with their eyes into the passive absorption of what appears on the television screen. Fortunately, there are many that never loose that childhood ability to imagine powers and abilities far beyond those of mortal people. These people are the ones that create the comic books.
Morrison has penned a semi-autobiography of his life in comics that is also a history of the comic books from that magic moment when Action Comics No. 1 was published. It was the issue that introduced the original Superman, while his powers were not yet completely refined and established, it was the defining moment for the greatest comic power of all time.
As a writer of comics with an extensive list of credits, Morrison chronicles the rise and fall of heroes, villain to hero and hero to villain benders, the rise of the more graphic comics, where language and images left the stiff comics code authority behind. Morrison does a bit of analysis of the mass psychology of superheroes, looking behind the facade of normality into the reasons why superheroes remain so popular. My favorite bit of analysis is when Morrison does a profile of Peter Parker as Spiderman and why he is so popular. Peter is shy, a scholar and uncertain in the world. Yet, when he has the costume on, he is not afraid of anything, willing to do battle with the most powerful of evil forces. No person that has meekly accepted an undeserved dressing down from a superior in the work force can avoid the fantasy of donning a mask and punching out the forces arrayed against him or her behind the fundamental security of their personal mental space.
Morrison also gives his opinion on the superhero serials, television shows and movies that have appeared over the years. It is fortunate that the movie technology has now reached the point where the heroes of the comics can perform acts that now look real. As Morrison explains so well, there will always be a place for the comic book, for without it there is an unfortunate lack of imagination and originality in the world. The superhero is the ultimate form of transference, where the intelligent reader can lose themselves in a world of great achievements, something sorely lacking in the world today.

This book is truly remarkable.

Supergods is most certainly the very best book that I've ever read about superheroes, and its also one of the very best books that I've ever read in my life--period. Grant Morrison is a creative genius and this book is his long-awaited magnum opus.

Just imagine, if you will, the history of superheroes being told through the eyes one of the greatest occult magicians, Jungian archetype/mythology experts, and wizard-storytellers of all time--while hyper-dimensionally tripping on magic mushrooms. The book is so fantastically brilliant, and so insanely well-written, that Morrison fans (like me) will passionately enjoy every single delicious word and orgasmic idea to the point of wetting their pants. This is one of those books that I just wished would never end. I kept telling myself that I would stop reading it after just one more page, but unless something absolutely insisted on intruding and tearing me away, it was very difficult to actually put this book down.

Morrison's recounting of the history of superheroes is utterly mesmerizing and trance-inducing. I savored his beautiful descriptions of superhero stories and his psychedelic insights into their archetypal meanings. His words filled me with inspiration, revelation. and wonder. This enchanted book is simply bursting at the seams with forehead-slapping "aha!" moments. However, when Morrison starts weaving his personal story into the book's narrative, then a whole meta-level to the history is created, and his incredible imagination is spellbindingly unleashed.

I especially enjoyed reading about Morrison's mind-bending, shamanic trip into a higher dimensional world while visiting Kathmandu, and his life-changing interactions with an alien intelligence there.

Supergods becomes more than just a soaring and sizzling history of superheroes; it magically transforms into a mind-blowing philosophical discussion on the nature of reality, and how reality is created through our will and imagination. Fans of Robert Anton Wilson, Terence McKenna, Aleister Crowley, and John Lilly will surely rejoice in Morrison's thought-provoking words, wisely-informed by psychedelic vision and brave personal exploration.

Supergods is exquisitely written with bejeweled enchantment, as Morrison obviously enjoys using his superb mastery of language and storytelling. This beautifully crafted book is also a magickal incantation, and it casts a sacred spell upon the reader. Morrison is a chaos magician of the highest order, a living superhero mystic, and this book will surely shift your view of the universe. I simply can't rave enough about Supergods. For fans of both psychedelic and superhero cultures, this book is simply a gold mine--exploding with fascinating insights, into the mythic, science fiction/fantasy world of superheroes, and the nature of reality itself.

Grant Morrison's saga of the superhero from its birth to its many tomorrows is a welcome breeze wafting from an endless summer somewhere in the future where we will all become superbeings. Welcome to me, at least, who, like the author, grew up absolutely enthralled by comic books.

And like Morrison, I'm tired and bored with the dystopian, snarling pretenders in tights who masquerade as superheroes these days. I'm no Pollyanna or prude afraid of the dark - I've spent a fair share of my career writing about dark worlds present and future - but there's still that kid in me who grew up believing in Stan Lee's admonition that "with great power comes great responsibility." Too many superheroes have mistaken their shirking of responsibility for a punk rebellion against authority.

The contrasts between the Green Lantern and Captain America movies highlight this problem. Hal Jordan allows himself to be convinced - all too easily - that he doesn't deserve the ring he's been given by a dying hero. His acceptance of his role finally comes rather perfunctorily, as a necessity for the final act, rather than from any real desire to live up to his destiny. Not so with Steve Rogers, who is untiring in his efforts to shoulder more responsibility than his weak frame can handle.

Morrison thinks superheroes are archetypes of aspiration, untiring and, in the end, always undefeated. His book chronicles the pop culture history of this archetype in many of its manifestations, not just in comics but also in similar trends in music and fashion. I've read many of the comics he calls upon as exemplars, and I loved reading another author's heartfelt and deeply illuminating appreciation of these works.

Heartfelt is the key word for this book. Grant Morrison is laying it bare, confessing to his love of the good guys, and using biographical moments to back it up. Even if I were inclined to disagree with his analysis - and I am surprisingly on the same page for the majority of it - I could never argue with his passion and love for the writers and artists whose work consumed by childhood.

I do, however, have a geek critique. Even though Morrison admits that he couldn't give a shout out to all his favorite comics stories, I still would have liked to have seen more attention given to Steve Englehart for his Secret Empire saga in Captain America and his Detective Comics collaboration with Marshall Rogers, both of which I feel are keystones worth mentioning in the evolution of the superhero in the `70s and early `80s. But I can't complain too much - he does give proper attention to Starlin's Warlock, after all.

This is probably the best book to give to someone who hasn't read comics in a long time and might be looking to rekindle their interest in the men and women of tomorrow. It's also a great introduction for Jungians and archetypal psychologists who have yet to turn their analytical gazes to the primordial pop culture pool in which our culture swims.

I am by no means a huge comic book fan but it is difficult to grow up in America when I did and not have some knowledge of the genre--Superman, Batman, and the rest. In particular, I read The Flash and I became a fan of Gaiman's Sandman and Morrison's The Invisibles. There is something about superheroes that keeps us coming back for more. In Supergods, Mr. Morrison tries to put his finger on their appeal from their beginnings in Depression-era comics through their triumph in modern movies.

In many ways, Mr. Morrison is successful in the task he has set for himself. In particular, his analysis of various high points in the history of comics from Action Comics #1 through Watchmen and beyond, is incredibly insightful. His ability to deconstruct the artwork and analyze the text is wonderful. He also is great at criticizing superhero film. If he had stuck entirely to these things, this book would be 5-star.

Unfortunately, in later chapters, when he reaches his own era, the book becomes more autobiographical and his analysis seems less objective. In addition, his strange, drug-fuelled mysticism holds no appeal. I respect the brilliant work that his experiences have inspired in him. On the other hand, it comes off poorly in the face of his often well-reasoned analysis of the work of other writers.

In the end, however, there is much here to enjoy. Superheroes really have permeated our culture and we need the kind of close-read that Mr. Morrison is generally able to provide. Though I will probably stay away from any future autobiography he might write, I would love to see a book from him that is strictly criticism. That would be really worthwhile.

Overall, this is a very good book. I was initially disappointed when it first arrived because I was hoping there would be more artwork in the book. After all, it would seem to make sense that a book about the history and importance of the superheroes we know (primarily through comics) would include some comics.

Once I got over that initial disappointment and started reading the book I found it extremely interesting. The background history of the comics and even the individuals who created them provides a rich context to the superhero icons many of us have grown up with.

However, sometimes knowing this background information can actually change your perception or feelings about a specific superhero. For example, I would prefer NOT to have known some of the background information on Wonder Woman, and her creator.

Overall, this is a fascinating book.

So far, the negative criticism of this book has focussed on this book being a bit bizarre with bits of mysticism and nonsensical rambling in between almost coherent bits of discussion about comic book heroes, in what appears to be some sort of chronological order.

Look at who wrote this. Grant Morrison. Really, what did you expect?

His writing style is as wonderful as ever, and the content itself is, while disorganized, very useful and insightful. If I have a complaint, it is that the first one hundred pages are so are basically retread of existing knowledge of comics. The Golden and Silver Age deserved better, I think, but given that the majority of the book is really taken up with the exploration of Big Themes, I can understand why he went with just a brief overview.

This book belongs on the shelf of any intellectually curious comic book fan.