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



Review
Praise for Grant Morrison

“Grant Morrison is one of the great comics writers of all time. I wish I didn’t have to compete with someone as good as him.”—Stan Lee

“Grant’s whole body of work inspired me.”—Gerard Way, My Chemical Romance

“I suddenly realized that everything that I’m trying to say in my nonfiction work, and in some of my fiction work, had been so beautifully and so imaginatively expressed in the work of Grant Morrison.”—Deepak Chopra

Product Description
From one of the most acclaimed and profound writers in the world of comics comes a thrilling and provocative exploration of humankind’s great modern myth: the superhero

The first superhero comic ever published, Action Comics no. 1 in 1938, introduced the world to something both unprecedented and timeless: Superman, a caped god for the modern age. In a matter of years, the skies of the imaginary world were filled with strange mutants, aliens, and vigilantes: Batman, Wonder Woman, the Fantastic Four, Iron Man, and the X-Men—the list of names as familiar as our own. In less than a century, they’ve gone from not existing at all to being everywhere we look: on our movie and television screens, in our videogames and dreams. But what are they trying to tell us?

For Grant Morrison, arguably the greatest of contemporary chroniclers of the “superworld,” these heroes are powerful archetypes whose ongoing, decades-spanning story arcs reflect and predict the course of human existence: Through them we tell the story of ourselves, our troubled history, and our starry aspirations. In this exhilarating work of a lifetime, Morrison draws on art, science, mythology, and his own astonishing journeys through this shadow universe to provide the first true history of the superhero—why they matter, why they will always be with us, and what they tell us about who we are . . . and what we may yet become.

:lol:

John Byrne

Dainty Child.
Pink Belly.
Comicbook Superstar.
Bored Now.

Aquaman


Adopted Family. (Adopted by his human family)

Obsolete continuity.

The whole mermaid and sailor fall in love angle, the mermaid gives birth and then takes off / dies?

Grant Morrison describes his journey to become one of the world’s leading comics writers

As one of the world’s leading comics writers, with titles including All-Star Superman and Justice League to his name, Glasgow’s Grant Morrison was the perfect man to write a history of superheroes. But his book, Supergods, covers a lot more than the world of pen and ink. He explains how he first became hooked on comic heroes, and what the superhero means to the world post-9/11

When I was eight my mum, who was a big fan of science fiction in all its forms, took me to see 2001: A Space Odyssey three times in one month. It was a profound thing to see. The second time I was so freaked out by the Stargate sequence that I couldn’t watch. I made my teddy bear watch instead. Even as a kid I was totally into it. I didn’t mind that there were 20 minutes of apes at the start and guys just talking for an hour and half after that – it was just compelling. It’s up there with the Sistine Chapel as one of the greatest things humans have ever made.

In terms of the film’s influence, the cosmic dimension was what I took from it more than anything else – the idea that there is a state that can be reached and then surpassed that takes us into a much bigger and more encompassing, holistic view of the universe and of life and death. Having that rubbed in at such a young age haunted me. I found that same stuff in Jack Kirby’s work such as New Gods – a real sense of the ineffable and of things beyond the veil. That point of being on the edge of comprehension fascinated me even then. Now I try to embody that in my characters and situations.

My mother was also a fan of comics, though it was my granddad, who was a riveter on the Clyde, who first brought them into the family. My first exposure to the superhero idea was when I saw a Marvelman comic, aged about three. I read comics like every other kid read them; they were really cool but at that age everything is: a flower on a stick or a caterpillar is cool. It was only when I became the classic withdrawn teenager that comics became an absolute obsession.

I loved the old Flash comics, which were very trippy with these bizarre far-out stories. They also really influenced me as a kid. Flash looked the best and represented a lot of cool stuff: lightning bolts and speed and energy and coffee. He seemed like the true hero of modernity. A lot of the superheroes, like Flash, don’t even need a great backstory. If you look back to the early Zorro film, which influenced Batman, Zorro just turns up and starts kicking ass. There’s no indication why he became Zorro or why he chose to dress like that. The modern approach to comic superheroes only came in later, when adults started to ask dumb questions like, ‘Why would he do that? How could he afford to do that?’ These are really stupid questions to ask of fantasy, but people did ask them, and then try to answer them. A superhero doesn’t really need a major motivation, though the best ones tend to have something big going on: Batman’s parents or Superman losing an entire planet so he has to protect this one. And a superhero needs to have a good silhouette; they need to be distinguishable.

After World War II, the popular comics were about crime, war, romance and horror. Superheroes vanished because they had been created for one purpose, which was to serve as heroes during the depression. They’d look after the poor and protect the weak. During the war they became patriotic, but after that they had no reason to exist. We’d just fought a war without superheroes and they suddenly started to look a bit ridiculous. Superheroes didn’t really become popular again until the late 50s, when there was a resurgence of the pioneer spirit. America started looking forward again, with Kennedy and the space race. Superheroes had the ‘right stuff’. They slotted quite nicely into this new optimism.

More recently, there’s been an onslaught of superheroes, starting with the first X-Men movie in 2000. This stuff that was once kept behind closed doors, and seen as the preserve of collectors or hobbyists, now belongs to everyone. What interests me is the way that the superhero is trying to claw its way into reality. There are now people who dress up like superheroes and try to fight crime. As an idea, the superhero seems to be getting stronger and more persistent. It almost demands that we connect with it.
The only way to make things in comic books real is to make comic books about real things. That’s not to have Superman sitting on the toilet or Batman filling out his tax form, but dealing with the feelings we all have. The stories now have to be about grief and loss and joy and hope and things that people feel – something meaningful and not just punch-ups.

The fears are what it’s all about. When I was doing Justice League, the writing was all about how you can marshal these forces of the human imagination against your depression, and against your fears for the world. It was very therapeutic for me. I feel better about life now, but I still use my characters to talk about the way I feel, and we feel, collectively. Moreso after 9/11, in that dark world that followed where kids were cutting themselves and the soldiers were dying.

Through this terrible sense of oppression – in which we’re being watched constantly, we’re stuck on the internet, and we’re scared of everything – the superhero has surged up as an imaginative response; a reminder that there is a future: stop telling kids that the planet is going to die and start using your minds the way that superheroes use their minds and get us out of this.

It’s a positive moment for superheroes, though not necessarily for the comics that they grew out of. They are seen as an old-fashioned way of selling the superhero story. It’s an interesting progression how the concept has evolved and developed its way from two dimensions, onto a moving screen, and then into real life. But for those who have shepherded these characters for decades, the vast number of movies is not necessarily a good thing.

The idea of doing Supergods was suggested to me. Originally we were going to put together a lot of the interviews I’d done over the years on the subject of superheroes and I thought, ‘That sounds really easy, no problem.’ I started it off in that way, and wrote an introduction. But when my agent saw it he said he really liked it, and why not just write something new?

It wasn’t what I’d intended doing, but obviously it’s something I’m passionate about. I just sat down and the whole thing came out without a lot of research. Most of my source material was available to me on the shelves a couple of feet away. I decided I wanted to just talk about the subject in the way that Nick Kent or Lester Bangs would talk about music. I felt that kind of approach would communicate with people who weren’t that into comics, but were familiar with the ideas because of movies.

The superheroes that endure, like Batman and Superman, are modern stand-ins for the old gods. Every culture has its own skyfather like Zeus, so we get Superman. And there’s always a god of the underworld like Hades or Pluto or the characters you get in Celtic culture or voodoo: Batman takes that role. Aquaman is the old Neptune and Flash is Mercury, the messenger of the gods. Those that persist are the ones who are simply those ideas in new clothes. They still mean so much to people and exist in symbolic dramas that teach us how to live.

Grant Morrison is a comic book author with many fans that will like this book no matter what. I'm speaking from a non-fan's perspective.

The simplest problem with this book is that the title is a lie. You're not going to learn anything from the X-men, Batman, or Superman. Except for some interesting parallels between superheroes and society, I don't see how the title is relevant. Clearly, the title was picked to grab more people in book stores, because if they had named it, "The Comic Book Industry and My Career in Comics by Grant Morrison," it would have limited appeal. I wouldn't have picked it up with a name like that.

The book is a mixed bag. The parts when he's talking about the comic book industry are good, but... sometimes he jumps to conclusions that I think only he would make. Think of 100 words to describe Captain Marvel. I bet "bishounen" isn't high on that list. And Batman must be into drugs because he's exposed to hallucinogens when he fights Joker, Poison Ivy, and Scarecrow, and he's a rich playboy, so he must be into the party scene.

So, the chapters about the 40s, 50s, and 60s are good. When he gets to the late sixties and into the eighties, he starts rattling off names of British authors and comics I've never heard of. The chapter of the 90s and Image comics was my favorite, and going into the modern age, it becomes interesting again.

All the way through the book, I wondered who this was for. Half the book is about the comic book industry, and the other half is about Grant Morrison. But, you have to be interested in Grant Morrison the Man. If you're a Grant Morrison fan thinking this will help you understand his Work better, that's not going to happen. He talks about Zenith the most, then about Arkham Assylum, Doom Patrol, and the Invisibles. Everything you've heard about writing the Invisibles is probably true. But the newer something is, the less he has to say about it. Seaguy: 1-page, the Filth: 1-paragraph, New X-Men: 1-page, Final Crisis: 2-pages, 7 Soldiers: 1-page. Flex Mentallo is the last thing he covers for a chapter.

If you're looking for running commentary on his work, this isn't it.

If you're looking for details on Multiversity, or the coming DC reboot, this isn't it.

If you're a budding comics writer and you bought this because trying to learn how to write comics from Grant Morrison, the money would be better spent on LSD and Magic Mushrooms.

If you want to read about Grant tripping balls in Kathmandu. This is the book right here!

So, because the title is a lie, I give "The Comic Book Industry and My Career in Comics by Grant Morrison" a 3 out of 5. It's best for people familiar with Grant Morrison's work. And if you were a live and politically conscious during the Thatcher years, even better. At the very least read Flex Mentallo, the Invisibles, and Zenith. I don't think he even mentions We3.

Superheroes, Surveyed and Sized Up
By DAVE ITZKOFF
Published: July 18, 2011

There’s nothing cool anymore about acknowledging the coolness of comic books. Popular culture is so far beyond that moment when comic characters — specifically those gifted, costumed adventurers known as superheroes — shed their reputation as fetish objects for children and marginalized adults and entered the mainstream. We’re now well into an era when every summer weekend brings the opening of an “X-Men” or “Green Lantern” movie. Colorful crime fighters’ vivid uniforms and rippling physiques are used to sell everything from pro football apparel to Broadway musicals, while the characters themselves, untethered from their decades-long narrative traditions, are reduced to mere commodities. Forget about rescuing Lois Lane or Aunt May — now it is the superhero himself who needs saving.

If anyone should be up to the task of rediscovering the magical essence that has inspired nearly 75 years’ worth of superhero storytelling, it is Grant Morrison, a Scottish comics writer and author of “Supergods: What Masked Vigilantes, Miraculous Mutants, and a Sun God From Smallville Can Teach Us About Being Human.”

Alongside genre-redefining talents like Frank Miller (the writer and illustrator of “Batman: The Dark Knight Returns”) and Alan Moore (the writer of “Watchmen”), Mr. Morrison, 51, is one of several revered comics figures who, beginning in the late 1980s, dragged the medium into the modern day.

In his own work Mr. Morrison has brought a mythological and metaphysical approach to superheroes. His wonderfully imaginative mini-series, “All-Star Superman,” originally released by DC Comics from 2005 to 2008, regarded the Man of Steel as a 21st-century Hercules, performing trials on a cosmic scale for the wonderment of his mortal admirers. His “Final Crisis,” however, was a rambling, baffling attempt to construct a unifying narrative for DC (and to include seemingly every character in that publisher’s pantheon). It created a lot of question marks in the thought bubbles above readers’ heads.

I’m afraid to say that I had a similar reaction to “Supergods,” a sprawling and scattershot book that seems as uncertain of its thesis as it is unclear about its intended audience. Readers who wouldn’t know Plastic Man from Mr. Fantastic are likely to find Mr. Morrison’s overview of comic heroes too impressionistic an introduction to the subject, while die-hard fans will be disappointed by the author’s superficial analysis of the ambitious ideas he conjures so readily in his storytelling.

Roughly the first third of “Supergods” is dedicated to Mr. Morrison’s summary of formative comic-book history: the earliest adventures of Superman and Batman are printed in the 1930s by the company that would become DC Comics; the publisher reinvents its heroes in the 1950s for an age of science and technology; and Marvel Comics sets off its own revolution in the 1960s with its angst-ridden, all-too-human characters.

Mr. Morrison can be a spirited writer, but he is also prone to overstatement and hyperbole. In these earliest pages Superman (“the ur-god”) is compared to Moses, Jesus and the Hindu warrior Karna; his sidekick Jimmy Olsen is likened to David Bowie and Madonna, as is the Joker, Batman’s nemesis; and Batman is “the Rolling Stones to Superman’s Beatles,” except when Roy Thomas is the writer and editor who “brought sound to the comic page” just as “the Beatles gave sound a visual dimension.”

When Mr. Morrison writes that “Batman was born of the deliberate reversal of everything in the Superman dynamic,” he must know that this statement does not withstand minimal scrutiny. Aren’t both characters orphans who were bequeathed extraordinary privilege?

Mr. Morrison does not show up as a character in his own book until Page 83; this is jarring at first, then increasingly comforting as he reveals himself to be a vulnerable Virgil in the underworld of geek culture. Raised by his parents to follow “nonviolent principles,” Mr. Morrison spurns the Boy Scouts as a “paramilitary organization.” His mother attends astronomy classes with him and takes him to see “2001: A Space Odyssey.”

His world is shattered when his parents separate, and he channels his adolescent alienation and unfulfilled libido into rudimentary comics characters that are thinly veiled analogues of his thwarted self, a strategy that will serve him well in his career.

Still, it’s a little unsettling to hear Mr. Morrison confess the many mind-altering substances — psilocybin, hashish, unspecified psychedelics — that have played a role in his creative development. And when he casually tosses off phrases about “nurseries where omni-anemones fed and grew to become quicksilver angels in a timeless AllNow,” you may wonder whether their effects completely wore off.

When Mr. Morrison puts care into his close readings, his prose can soar: a philosophical passage in which he breaks ranks with writers he considers to be “missionaries who attempted to impose their own values and preconceptions on cultures they considered inferior,” and identifies himself with anthropologists who “surrendered themselves to foreign cultures” and “weren’t afraid to go native or look foolish,” is among the book’s most engrossing sections.

So too is Mr. Morrison’s quasi-religious description of superheroes living “in paper universes, suspended in a pulp continuum where they never aged or died unless it was to be reborn, better than ever, with a new costume,” as is his little elegy for “Unbreakable,” M. Night Shyamalan’s unfairly maligned superhero movie.

So it is disappointing to watch as “Supergods,” which never stays with a particular point for very long, comes increasingly unraveled in its final chapters, forgoing thoughtful examination in favor of shout-outs to Mr. Morrison’s industry colleagues and an unnecessary, 16-page summary of the “Batman” movie franchise.

“Supergods” is most frustrating because it is a missed opportunity. The comics industry is imperiled by stagnant sales and is turning repeatedly to gimmicks — killing off and resurrecting characters or resetting all of its titles at issue No. 1, as DC Comics is about to do — in hopes of renewing readers’ interest. If Mr. Morrison, who will be the writer of DC’s rejuvenated Action Comics series, has any thoughts about this existential crisis on infinite Earths, he has omitted them from this book.

Some years ago Mr. Morrison concluded his “All-Star Superman” on an inspirational note, as the hero flies into the heart of our dying Sun, leaving Lois Lane back on Earth to wait for him to return, someday, from his repair mission. We comics fans have to share her faith that our saviors will return to us, if not from the minds of Mr. Morrison and his peers, then perhaps from some unseen perch, up, up and away.