1

Introduction

Comic book readership is no longer limited to children.

Perhaps the most famous is Maus (1991), based on creator Art

Spiegelman interviewing his father, a Polish Jew who survived

the Holocaust, which was the first graphic novel to win the

Pulitzer Prize and brought attention not only to audiences

outside the usual comics fan base, but also to academics and

professional scholars. Alternative comics and graphic novels

have proven that the medium of comics offers many artistic

possibilities in its multiple forms of expression. Bending to

the wishes of artists and writers, comics can easily become

memoirs like Maus, autobiographies like Marjane Satrapi’s

Persepolis (2000), social commentaries like Gene Luen Yang’s

American Born Chinese (2006), and much more. These works are

all sophisticated in their narratives and visual styles, despite

prior prejudices that comics are immature, and have even found

places as standard texts in college and university courses (Heer

and Worcester xi).

Superhero comics, while gradually gaining academic

acceptance, still remains a site of struggle for legitimacy

as a field of study. For instance, when studying comic books,

it would be extremely difficult to avoid superheroes (Wolk 89),

for their existence is integral to the history of comics (Hatfield

et al. xi). However, comics experts such as Scott McCloud, Martin

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Baker, Claudia Goldstein, and Douglas Wolk, quoted above,

distinguish superhero comics from graphic novels and

alternative or art comics in their analyses (Romagnoli and

Pagnucci 21-2). Wolk even expresses apologetically the need

to study them along with the academically approved works. For

example, Wolk, even with his positive attitudes towards the

study of superheroes, explains that encountering superhero

comics is a necessity “if you are going to honestly look into

American comics,” arguing that scholars must acknowledge how

superhero comics’ status as the mainstream puts “artists and

readers who are interested in comics as a form of artistic

expression . . . horribly off balance” (Wolk 89). Scott McCloud,

too, when noting common misconceptions of comics, adds “guys

in tights” as one of the negative factors frequently used to

dismiss the form as insignificant popular entertainment

(McCloud 2).

This is due to the fact that to many, superhero comics still

appear simple and childish with their unbelievable superpowers,

silly costumes in bright colors, straightforward stories of

good versus evil in which the good (almost) always wins, and

most importantly, with many varieties of merchandise including

books and cartoons targeting children. Another reason may be

that superhero comics depend largely on a relatively specialized

fan culture and vast knowledge of the different “Universes”

and back stories. While “fan-based knowledge is . . . valued

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in academy, fannishness,” of superhero comics, where fans are

significant participants, so much so that some of them become

professional creators, “is still regarded as . . . a symptom

of a failure to professionalize” (Hatfield et al. xii). Thus,

many question the importance of studying superheroes.

Yet, first of all, there is no denying that superheroes

have, since their birth in the twentieth century, not only become

deeply rooted in American culture, but also “achieved iconic

recognition around the world” (Hatfield et al. xii). Thus any

effort to survey the history of popular culture and print media

in North America must include some consideration of superhero

comics. Furthermore, superheroes’ influences extend beyond

comic book culture. Their influence and popularity reach not

only into “other art forms” in a wide variety of media “such

as film, videogames, and prose fiction” (Hatfield et al. xii)

within the US, but also in foreign countries.

Secondly, and more importantly, traditional physically and

morally perfect superheroes and their stories, have become what

amounts to a modern, native mythology in American culture that

people idealize and idolize. As a form of national mythology,

superheroes “[transcend] generations and audiences” (Romagnoli

and Pagnucci 14), as well as “provide bold metaphors” for

understanding national identity (Wolk 92). For instance, an

ongoing series that began its run decades ago may be examined

by scholars to engage in topics such as both the past and

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contemporary culture and society. Comics, which continues to

expand in styles and genres, may be treated as modern literature

that explores mediums of storytelling, as it fuses graphics

into the reading process. Thus words are not the sole factor

in reading comics, as they are in novels; pictures too, as well

as how they are placed, must be “read.” This allows writers

and creators to expand not just their styles in writing, but

also their art, which includes line art, colors, and placement.

Possibilities, therefore, are endless.

Other times, one character may signify several different

meanings depending on when he or she was written. The easiest

example would be Superman. To some, he is a famous superhero,

a fictional character from comics and cartoons, and a fulfillment

of a child’s fantasy. To others, he is the All-American Boy

Scout, who symbolizes Truth, Justice, and the American Way.

Scholars interpret Superman variously as a Christ-like figure

(Goodwyn), a potent fantasy of the Jewish immigrant story (Tye),

and “a bold humanist response to Depression-era fears of runaway

scientific advances and soulless industrialism” (Morrison 6).

In this way, Superman, as figure from modern American mythology,

becomes an embodiment of some of the most crucial American

metaphors and “reflection[s] of what a culture values[,] . . .

tak[ing] on the burden of being a representation of what culture

and society value[s] at a given moment” (Romagnoli and

Pagnucci15). Some of the most successful scholarship on

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superheroes focuses on this cultural studies approach,

analyzing the significance of the superhero as an avatar of

a particular period’s anxieties and values. Critic Matthew J.

Costello for example, in Secret Identity Crisis (2009), analyzes

Marvel heroes during the Cold War era, comparing the characters

to America’s national identity then, and looks into how the

society is reflected in them.

This form of analysis, reading the superhero as a metaphor

of a particular society’s values, is supported not only in close

analysis of characters, but also in tracing new developments

in the larger narratives about existing or new characters. For

instance, at first Marvel, whose rise in superhero comics began

during right before World War II with the patriotic super-soldier

Captain America, published comics with only white heroes, and

these comics targeted mainly male audiences. However, during

the Civil Rights Movement, new Marvel comics such as The X-Men,

which featured characters of many races and nationalities,

became popular, and now, in 2014, with the recognition of both

the growing number of female readers and the importance of queer

representation, comics with female leads and LGBTQ characters

are increasing and attracting widespread media attention. Ms.

Marvel and Captain Marvel are both series that started this

year with new female protagonists, while gay couples such as

Hulkling and Wiccan from Young Avengers still remain popular

characters.

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What should be noted, however, is that studies of superheroes

do not solely rely on, nor do their focuses remain exclusively

on, cultural contexts. Scholarship on superheroes and methods

for examining these comics have developed and matured, just

as the comics themselves have. Briefly surveying the history

of superhero comics in parallel with the history of comics

studies, I hope to show that formalist analysis, in addition

to cultural studies of comics, can shed light on the fact that

society is no longer the only driving force of superhero comics.

Within their comics, superhero comics have created an individual

universe with a culture of its own, which is reflected in forms

and contexts in the comics.

Early superhero comics are roughly divided in to three

periods spanning much of the twentieth century. The Golden Age,

beginning in 1938, with Superman’s debut in Action Comics #1,

and ending during the late forties or early fifties, marks the

rise of superheroes. Many famous superheroes that are still

popular today were created during this period, including: Batman

and Wonder Woman by All-American Publications (now DC Comics)

and Captain America by Marvel Comics. The Golden Age was followed

by the Silver Age, which is considered to have begun in the

mid-fifties and extended to circa 1970. The Silver Age brought

the second wave of superheroes, including the new Flash and

Green Lantern, along with Spider-Man and the X-Men. These first

two Ages are significant in the superhero genre because it was

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primarily during these decades that superhero comics developed

the universes, sub-genres, traditions, tropes, characters, and

narrative styles that became mainstream within superhero comics

and are still seen in comics today.

During the following Bronze Age, which occurred from around

the early seventies to 1985, comics began to become more socially

relevant. Superhero comics during this Age, while trying to

maintain approval from the regulations set forth in the Comics

Code (first devised in 1954, then revised to loosen restrictions

in 1971), tackled realistic issues such as drugs, alcohol,

racism, and environmental pollution. Denny O’Neil and Neal

Adams’ Green Lantern/Green Arrow alone covered three of these

topics, and an Iron Man issue in 1979 entitled “Demon in the

Bottle” deals with Iron Man’s alcoholism. Bronze Age comics

also started to feature darker plotlines that were more common

before the advent of the Comics Code. For example, Batman loses

his campiness, which had reached its peak during the sixties,

in the hands again of Denny O’Neil and Neal Adams, marking the

beginning of the darker Age. Yet the most famous moment of the

Bronze Age was the death of Gwen Stacy in Amazing Spider-Man

#121-2 published in June-July 1973. The villain, the Green Goblin

tries to murder her, and in an attempt to save her, Spider-Man

accidentally snaps her neck. This accidental death of a

mainstream hero’s girlfriend by his own hand that still haunts

readers and Peter Parker today established the fact that darker

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times for heroes were not only imminent but also inevitable,

a development I will later examine in further detail.

Studies of superhero comics during these three Ages focus

primarily on cultural contexts, in looking at the ways that

they reflect and influence their contemporary societies. The

Bronze Age is not an exception, and societal influences can

also be seen in earlier comics. For example, Superman, as I

have already mentioned is a reaction towards Depression-era

America. Captain America, in comics published during the

forties, on the other hand, fought America’s wartime enemies,

the Nazis and the Japanese, and became a successful tool in

showing support for American troops. The heroes brought to life

during the Silver Age, especially in Marvel Comics, such as

Spider-Man and the Hulk reflect in some ways the counterculture

of the sixties, in that they are outsiders with angst-filled

problems, unlike their more idealized Golden Age predecessors.

Thus, superhero studies on early works created the basis for

acknowledging superhero comics’ significance within cultural

studies and legitimizing superhero scholarship more generally.

In addition to creating the superhero tradition and the

beginnings of superhero studies, there is another important

contribution made by the three early Ages, to both the genre

and the study of it within academia. The end of the Bronze Age

marks approximately fifty years since the debut of superheroes.

From Superman’s appearance to the introduction of Green Lantern

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and Green Arrow, superhero comics themselves created their own

history by developing such an extensive body of work. With one

publication after another, superhero comics have expanded their

archive, enriching themselves with back stories and details

that creators continue to refer back to and build upon. As a

result, superhero comics now consist of, for instance, the DC

and Marvel Universes, in which seriality connects past and

present works into one enormous, intertextual fictional world.

Narrative structures over the years build on that complexity,

so that many comics and characters are intricately

interconnected with one other. In this way, from the origins

onwards through the eighties and nineties, both superhero comics

and superhero scholarships begin to take another route in

addition to their still important function in relation to

cultural context, where comics comments on comics themselves.

Superhero comics would examine, for example, their own

tradition, history, and industry through their comics, instead

of solely focusing on contemporary society. Superhero

scholarship is thus affected by this new course the comics are

taking, in that it must study the texts not just through cultural

contexts, but also in relation to past superhero comics and

its seriality.

Alan Moore’s Watchmen and Frank Miller’s Batman: The Dark

Knight Returns, both published in 1986, collectively ended the

Bronze Age, and introduced superhero comics into a darker, more

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modern age. Both series commented explicitly on their current

society, which was unstable due to the Cold War and the lingering

national trauma over the Vietnam War, but that was not the main

thing that caught the audiences’ attention and interest. It

was the fact that they self-consciously accumulated material

from the superhero archive into their works, picking out pieces

that they felt were outdated, and revising them into something

more fitting for mature readers, who had been young readers

throughout the Golden, Silver, and/or Bronze Ages. These revised

heroes also became darker as they embraced many traits not allowed

in traditional superhero comics intended for younger readers,

such as more realistic and graphic scenes of violence, death,

and sexuality. As a result, audiences who were longing for fresh

superhero narratives devoured them. Miller’s and Moore’s style

of dark heroes became a trend among readers and creators, and

for several years, they and the creators they influenced

dominated superhero comics.

About a decade into what is known as the Dark Age, some

creators began to question this trend that had been going on

for years. Realizing at one point that the darkness may be

limiting the types of stories writers and artists can write,

new works such as Marvels (1994) by Kurt Busiek, and Kingdom

Come (1996) by Mark Waid, both drawn by Alex Ross, appear. These

comics, which look back into the almost-forgotten Golden and

Silver Ages, make a point of praising the past when superheroes

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were brighter and encompassed happiness and hope. In this way,

these new nostalgic comics that pull superhero fans away from

the darkness that had engulfed the genre, and plunges them deep

into nostalgia, were a clear reaction against the dark

revisionist works. Cultural context is no longer the

preoccupation of these comics as a genre, but instead, their

interests lay in superhero comics themselves, and their past

and future.

By the turn of the millennium, more and more comics have

begun to examine not just society, but their own superhero comics

cultures. Many comics are now exploring the conventions and

limitations of the medium and the genre itself, becoming

meta-fictions, or rather, meta-comics. Superhero comics

scholarship is also affected by the decades-long progression

the genre made, for it is no longer enough to study comics solely

in relation to a particular moment in North American culture.

The complexities inherent in the continuity of superhero comics’

universes offer allows writers and creators to develop a new

narrative model: which I will term meta-comics. As literary

critics, we cannot dismiss this interesting turn of events.

Therefore, in this thesis, I investigate the ways in which

contemporary superhero comics such as those by creator Grant

Morrison react to and try to revise the superhero comics form.

In chapter one I will examine the two central revisionist comics

series of the Dark Age, examining how they changed superhero

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comics, which will continue to chapter two, where I will analyze

the most important subsequent nostalgic works that went against

revisionist comics to clarify the two opposing forces of trends

that have appeared in the superhero genre. Finally, in chapter

three and four, I will read closely Grant Morrison’s Seven

Soldiers of Victory (2006), along with other superhero comics,

but not primarily through its cultural context, as many fruitful

studies of other superhero comics have already done. I will

analyze Seven Soldiers of Victory to argue that despite the

opposite trends of innovation and tradition, superhero comics,

which are built on a history of continuity and seriality, must

have aspects both of the new and the old and increasingly must

demonstrate awareness of their own generic and formal

conventions and history.

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Chapter I

The Arrival of the Extreme Revisionists

Readers who were children during the Golden and Silver Ages

were adults by the 1980’s. Thus, the main two publishers of

superhero comics, DC and Marvel, needed to fit the needs of

their consumers by creating comics more enjoyable for older

audiences. This brought the genre into its maturity. By 1984,

re-inventions and re-vitalizations of long-standing narratives

were becoming more common (Bongco 136). Marvel’s Daredevil,

The X-Men series, and DC’s Camelot 3000 are some examples of

comics that aimed for older readers in the 1980s, to name a

few. However, two important series, both first published in

1986 by DC Comics, set the paths for future superhero comics:

Frank Miller’s Batman: The Dark Knight Returns and Alan Moore’s

Watchmen.

The Dark Knight Returns tells a tale of a futuristic

Gotham, where an aging Bruce Wayne is no longer Batman. However,

with the return of former villains, a confrontation with

Superman, and the emergence of new threats in an unstable society,

with the help of a new Robin, he dons the costume once more,

coming out of retirement, to protect his city as he used to.

Watchmen, on the other hand, uses no major superheroes, but

instead, alludes to already existing characters with traits

familiar to those who have actively read superhero narratives.

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This series starts as a whodunit mystery in which a former

superhero, The Comedian, gets murdered. Rorschach, who still

works as a hero even after the Watchmen, a superhero team he

and The Comedian used to belong to, disbanded, is convinced

that a murderer is out to get retired superheroes, and he sets

out to investigate. What is then revealed is not a simple murder

mystery, but a dreadful conspiracy that could end up destroying

millions of lives all over the world. These two works, though

different in plot, share several innovative characteristics

in their storytelling that rejects traditional superhero

narratives, and that as a result, constitute a formula for later

superheroes to follow. Their heroes are enveloped in darkness,

the antithesis of the optimistic image of hope readers were

accustomed to in superheroes. With these two works, darker

heroes, or antiheroes, began to rise in popularity, and the

bright ideals of the Golden and Silver Ages started to become

outdated.

Revisionists Works, Case One: Watchmen (1987)

In Watchmen and The Dark Knight Returns, several key

traditional traits of superhero comics that are fundamentally

change. Invulnerability is one of the most acknowledged traits

of superheroes. This invulnerability is not limited to the

heroes’ superpowers and their immortality, such as Superman’s

steel-like skin that stops bullets, or Wolverine’s healing

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factor that allows him to survive almost any damage inflicted

upon him. Rather, invulnerability also characterizes the

unchanging narrative structure of superhero comics. Danny

Fingeroth points out in his book Superman on the Couch that

because there is a “permanence[,] . . . a predictability” in

superhero comics, readers “achieve immortality through [them]”

(Fingeroth 37). In such predictability fans find a “stability

and comfort” (Hogue). As all heroes of adventure stories do,

the protagonist faces villains and their evil deeds in every

issue of superhero comic books. There is a crisis in which the

hero is almost defeated, but by some miraculous ploy, they make

it out alive, saving the city, country, or the world during

the process. This formula involving the heroes and their

obstacles “is the simplest and perhaps the oldest and widest

in appeal of all story types” (Cawelti 78) that can be traced

to the earliest civilizations, but is also found everywhere

in popular narratives today.

If, in the serial form of superhero comics, the crisis is

not averted in this single issue, it will be in the next, or

those after it. Readers, as a rule, know the hero will come

out a victor, and will not expect otherwise. Roger Rollin, in

his study on the hero figure in pop culture and the escapism

it provides, calls this “[ultimate] triumph” a “value

satisfaction,” where audiences revel in “the defeat of Evil . . .

by the Good” (Rollin 85). Because the readers’ culture and their

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comics share basic values, such as celebrating freedom, peace,

and goodness of heart, the heroes’ “repeated triumphs . . .

reinforce [the audience’s] confidence” (Rollin 87) in these

values. This creates a sense of security readers turn to again

and again, knowing they will not be betrayed by the outcomes

of the stories.

In Watchmen and The Dark Knight Returns however, this

invulnerability is threatened in narratives where the good is

not necessarily triumphant. Death, for example, constantly

haunts the pages of the two works. Watchmen opens its series

with The Comedian’s death. He is one of the few members left

from the first hero team, the Minutemen, as well as the succeeding

team, the Watchmen, who still wears his costume and uses his

superhero alter ego, even though he now does government work

instead of individual vigilantism. Moreover, his death does

not occur in a battle for justice as befits a superhero; he

is taken by surprise in his own home, and

murdered by being thrown out the window,

making “quite a drop” (Moore I, 1) onto the

concrete sidewalk. Beaten and bloody, and

wearing only a bathrobe, he looks nothing

but an aging man, destroying every allusion

of him being a superhero (fig. 1-1). With

its first three pages, Moore’s Watchmen

thrusts upon the readers the fact that these Figure 1-1

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heroes, contrary to the genre’s longstanding convention of

invulnerability that allowed them to escape it for so long,

can now meet a banal, mortal death as a civilian.

Readers soon learn of the unfortunate fates of some of the

other former members of the Minutemen. For example, the

Silhouette was murdered, with hints that it is the result of

a hate crime motivated by her lesbianism. Another, the Dollar

Bill, got his cloak tangled during a bank raid, and thus he

was shot. Hooded Justice and Captain Metropolis are dead as

well; the former murdered, the latter killed in a car accident.

None of these heroes died the honorable death of a superhero,

with the possible exception of the Dollar Bill: he died on the

job, but his death was caused by simple clumsiness. The ignoble

deaths of the former Minutemen implies that, up until then,

heroes had been lucky enough to avoid mortality, but also blind

to the fact that they could get killed like any other non-super

human. The Silhouette’s death also suggests that despite her

contribution as a superhero, she was still an individual

belonging to a minority facing widespread prejudice, and her

being “super” did nothing to mitigate the violent hate exercised

upon her. Thus, their deaths serve as a wakeup call to remind

superhero comics readers that they have been turning a blind

eye to their heroes’ mortality as humans.

Furthermore, the heroes of Watchmen lack the stable

temperament readers so often find comfort in. Mothman from the

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Minutemen, for example, has been “committed to a mental

institution after a bout of alcoholism and a complete mental

breakdown” (Moore II, 30), and this instability can also be

seen in former Watchmen. Dr. Manhattan becomes a superhero out

of obligation because of the godlike powers he gained, but is

detached from any sense of morality, as seen in flashbacks to

the Vietnam War, where he makes no move to save a pregnant woman

the Comedian shoots from rage, or when Janey, his former wife,

condemns him for not preventing John F. Kennedy’s assassination.

Rorschach, however, is the most disturbing: he is the only

hero left after the Keene Act of 1977 that prohibits “costumed

adventuring.” He continues his vigilantism just as he had done

before the passing of the Act. He has the spirit of a superhero

in that he believes in justice, but his severity is disconcerting.

His punishments are absolute, with death being an option, and

he is willing to torture those who hold back information from

him. The detached manner in which he conducts

tortures and the blackness that surrounds

him, along with his expressionless-ness due

to his mask, raises the questions on who

here is the villain, victim, or hero (fig.

1-2). Such blackness, however, envelopes

not only Rorschach, but all the pages

throughout Watchmen. While the series use

bold coloring common in superhero comics, Figure 1-2

19

shadows painted black on somber colors darken the atmosphere

of the comics.

What makes Rorschach’s character even more unsettling is

the fact that he sees himself as sane, wondering why there “are

so few of [them] left active, healthy, and without personality

disorders” (Moore I, 19). Rorschach is more violent and obsessive

than the villains seen in most superhero comics, much less heroes,

but ironically he is the only one among the Watchmen who truly

hopes to eradicate evil from the world, and refuses to compromise

in his pursuit of it, as Silk Spectre, Nite Owl II, and Dr.

Manhattan do later in the series for the sake of world peace,

and is ultimately punished for this with death by Dr. Manhattan

(fig. 1-3). Thus, the boundaries between hero, villain, and

victim is

blurred once

more, as

Rorschach

the hero

becomes the

villain for

wanting to

punish all evil by sacrificing peace, but also the victim who

gets murdered by Dr. Manhattan who conducts the kill without

hesitation to maintain this peace. With Watchmen’s introduction

of heroes who are unstable, morally questionable, yet more

Figure 1-3

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realistic in their human nature, the image of superheroes was

changed forever, pushing not only readers but writers and artists

to turn away from the ignorant bliss of the Golden and Silver

Ages when heroes were the ultimate good, made into human form.

Revisionist Works, Case Two: Batman: The Dark Knight Returns

(1986)

Just as Watchmen blazed a new trail in the representation

of superheroes and their invulnerability, Frank Miller’s

Batman: The Dark Knight Returns brought Batman’s image towards

the scowling, gothic vigilante readers are familiar with today,

and away from Adam West, the star of the campy Batman TV series

in the 1960s. Miller’s Bruce Wayne is a man in his fifties;

decades have passed since he was last active as the Batman.

This alone breaks the long tradition of superheroes never aging

over the years. In an essay on Superman, Umberto Eco argues

that “concept of time” is “[broken] down” in the traditional

superhero comics (Eco 17). He examines how, especially in early

comics, temporal ties between separate episodes or arcs are

omitted in order to avoid the series showing any awareness of

the inevitability of death:

In the sphere of a story, Superman accomplishes a given

job (he routs a band of gangsters); at this point the story

ends. In the same comic book, or in the edition of the

following week, a new story begins. If it took Superman

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up again at the point where he left off, he would have

taken a step toward death. On the other hand, to begin

a story without showing that another had preceded it would

manage, momentarily, to remove Superman from the law that

leads from life to death through time. (Eco 17)

This avoidance of temporality is not unique to Superman. Though

in existence for decades, Batman hardly ever ages from a man

in his mid-thirties. Consequently, Miller’s work hints at the

possibility of a mortal death by showing the passage of real

time through Batman’s own body (Bongco 153).

Similar to Watchmen, The Dark Knight opens with the specter

of death, here by exposing its readers to Bruce’s suicidal

thoughts. In the very first page of the series, Bruce, in a

dark helmet exposing only his mouth like the Batman's cowl (fig.

1-4),

is

driving

what

looks

like a

racing car, at a high enough speed to get it pinwheeled across

the finish line. Bruce, as he drives, feels “the front end

[lurch], all wrong”, followed by “the front tire decid[ing]

to turn all on its own” (Miller 10). Bruce shows no panic, but

Figure 1-4

22

instead pushes further, finally crashing the car. With fire

enveloping him, he thinks, “This would be a good death…” (Miller

10). Fortunately he makes it out alive, ”bail[ing] out at the

last second”, but this is only because he realizes that a death

such as this would be good for Bruce Wayne, but “not good enough”

for the Batman (Miller 10).

Bruce finds his will to live solely

after donning the superhero mantle again.

Until then, nightmares that reflect his

subconscious’ desire to become the Batman

again plague him. Yet, the moment a bat

comes crashing through a window Bruce

stands in front of (fig. 1-5), alluding

to a similar scene in Detective Comics

#33, which first illustrated the birth of the Batman (fig. 1-6),

Bruce sets

his

repressed

desires to

become the

Batman

free to

roam. The bat in The Dark Knight is nothing like the one in

Detective Comics #33. It is more realistic, vicious, and

fearless, shattering the glass of the window into pieces, which

Figure 1-5

Figure 1-6

23

suggests that the new Batman, will take on these traits as well.

Bruce, the Batman, is mentally “born again” (Miller 34), but

he feels it physically too. In his fifties, as he makes impossible

leaps throughout the city, he “should be in agony[,] . . . a

mass of aching muscle—broken, spent, unable to move”, but

instead, he feels as if he is “a man of thirty—of twenty again”

(Miller 34). Bruce will be nothing more than an empty shell

as long as he denies his other self, the Batman. He is unable

to have a satisfying life without the thrill of hunting criminals.

Bruce’s motive to become the Batman is, along with

satisfaction in life, also related to his sexuality. Superhero

costumes have been seen as sexual by many critics and fans over

the years, because the costumes are drawn extremely skin tight,

usually with underwear worn on the outside, making the

superheroes seem almost naked. The superheroes would, then,

in these suggestive outfits, grapple and wrestle with others

like them. Wonder Woman, in her early comics for example, with

her Lasso of Truth, fights primarily female villains, and enjoys

a following of mostly supporters, such as her fellow Amazonians

or the sorority at fictional Holiday College; as a result, from

the beginning, she has been read in connection to sexual bondage

and lesbianism. Such readings of sexual nature of superhero

comics drove psychiatrist Frederic Wertham to write his infamous

1954 book, Seduction of the Innocent, which argues that superhero

comics are harmful to children because of their violence, as

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well as their sexual connotations.

Superheroism also functions as a fetish, for superheroes,

with their perfect muscular male and curvaceous female bodies,

embody masculine ideals, which is an idea further deconstructed

by Moore, in Watchmen, through the character of Nite-Owl.

Civilian Daniel Dreiberg is a pudgy, middle-aged man. However,

by donning a superhero costume, he is able to be a part of the

masculine ideal. The costume, as a “source of sexual power”

gives him release from his dull, ordinary status, as well as

confidence in himself (Reynolds 32). Thus, as Daniel, he has

sexual performance issues during his relationship with his lover

Laurie, but once they become their superhero alter egos, Nite

Owl and Silk Spectre, he is able to overcome this.

Costume as fetish is also explored in The Dark Knight Returns

(Bongco 156). Alfred, Bruce Wayne’s butler, nags Bruce about

“the prospects,” or the lack thereof, “a next generation” (Miller

21) in the Wayne family, which underscores Bruce’s failure to

find a romantic or sexual partner, and implies that he is not

interested. Yet, donning the Batman costume gives Bruce

excitement, making him feel alive and young once more, as if

to compensate for his lack sexual fulfillment. If this excitement

is the reason for the Batman to fight, it directly opposes the

traditional notion that superheroes fight entirely for selfless

reasons to protect the innocent, or that Bruce became the Batman

not only to avenge his parents’ deaths at the hands of criminals,

25

but also to prevent others from going through such traumatic

events. Batman here is no longer the friend to the law, a status

he had kept for decades since the introduction of the first

Robin, but instead motivated by his own ambivalent drives. Miller

brought back the violent vigilante of the shadows, and this

time, he was here to stay.

26

Chapter II

Bringing Traditions Back

Alan Moore’s and Frank Miller’s daring departures from

superhero tradition were such a success that many writers and

artists followed in their footsteps, creating one dark hero

after another. The early nineties brought new publishers

intentionally targeting older readers such as Image Comics,

which allowed superhero comics to portray more violence than

DC and Marvel. However, the two mainstream publishers also joined

the trend as their stories took more gruesome twists and turns,

especially with the death of Jason Todd, the second Robin (Batman

#428 Dec. 1988) and the shooting of Batgirl, Barbara Gordon,

by the Joker, resulting in her permanent paralysis (Batman:

The Killing Joke 1988) .

Despite the popularity of dark superheroes, some in the

comics community were skeptical of this shift in tone within

the genre. These writers and artists, as a response to the

descendants of Moore and Miller, created works that looked back

to the superhero tradition that had been neglected over the

previous few years. Such works led to more recognition of the

nostalgia market, where comics reminiscent of pre-Moore

–and-Miller times brought the readers back to the origins of

the genre that first built the world of superheroes, as well

as reminding them of the “good ol’ days” when the superheroes

27

symbolized simpler values. In a time when traditional

superheroes seemed almost lost, these writers have worked to

reclaim and return the heroes to the preceding brighter times

(Klock 78).

The Nostalgic Works, Case One: Marvels (1994)

Marvels, written by Kurt Busiek and drawn by Alex Ross,

is one of the first works in mainstream superhero comics to

respond skeptically to the changes that Watchmen and The Dark

Knight Returns introduced into the genre. Published in 1994

as a four-issue limited short series, Marvels returns to the

origins of one of the first Marvel superheroes, gradually going

through the history of the Marvel Universe and how it came to

be. Starting with the birth of the Human Torch, followed by

the introduction of the Sub-Mariner, the Fantastic Four, Captain

America, the X-Men, and the Avengers, Marvels take a “nostalgic

tour” (Darius) of the Marvel heroes of the Golden and Silver

Ages, finally concluding with the controversial death of Gwen

Stacey, an event that marks the beginning of the Bronze Age

and the darker phase that follows.

Yet even though this is in many respects a nostalgia comic,

the protagonist is no hero; Phil Sheldon is a photographer for

the Daily Bugle, and specializes in taking pictures of the

superheroes that, one after another, have started appearing

in New York City. Truly amazed at these superhumans, Sheldon

28

names them the “Marvels,” and takes pictures to show the world

how they live up to their names. This positive beginning,

unfortunately, does not last. As the number of superheroes

increases and their battles become bigger, civilians start

blaming the “Marvels” for the appearance of villains and the

destruction of their city, even if the heroes do manage to save

the day. “The Marvels were supposed to be pure,” Sheldon cries

(Busiek and Ross, Marvels #3). This cry grieves over the Marvels,

who gained popularity as saviors of the city, but are now treated

by civilians as untrustworthy creatures residing in New York.

Superhero comics as a historical genre in reality takes

similar steps as with the New Yorkers in Marvels. During its

glorious Golden and Silver Ages that Marvels celebrate, when

comics built the superhero tradition, as in the first few years

after the appearance of the Marvels in New York City, the heroes

were at their peak, respected and praised for their heroics.

Everyone wanted a glimpse of these colorful characters in the

battle between good and evil. Likewise, superhero comics of

the Golden and Silver Ages were simplistic and idealistic, but

full of hope and widely read among young Americans. However,

just as more New York City citizens started to treat the Marvels

as threatening, Moore’s and Miller’s revision of superheroes

in the 1980s exposed their darker sides. Heroes now became

characters that readers must be wary of, rather than blindly

support and admire. Thus, Geoff Klock interprets Marvels as

29

a “plea not to treat heroes as monsters” (Klock 79), as more

and more creators and fans are wont to do. Busiek and Ross try

remind their readers of what the genre was about in the first

place by recalling the early years with nostalgia.

Over time, Sheldon witnesses more and more heroes treated

as untrustworthy criminals due to people’s fright and prejudice

towards the Other; as a result, his idealistic perspective on

them gradually tarnishes. Then, he meets Gwen Stacey. The “wonder

and delight in her face” when

she looks up into the skies

to see the “Marvels” makes

him realize all over again

that the superheroes are

“here to save the innocent[,]

to save people like Gwen”

(Busiek and Ross, Marvels

#4). He experiences a renewal

of his former childlike awe

at the Marvels through

witnessing hers (fig. 2-1).

Sheldon is, however, a

little too late in coming to this realization, for Moore’s and

Miller’s darkness was already foreshadowed in Ross’s art.

Walking through the city, Sheldon and Gwen notice the city is

in a panic, due to “the Sub-Mariner . . . invad[ing] the city—to

Figure 2-1

30

reclaim an Atlantean citizen taken prisoner” (Busiek and Ross,

Marvels #4). In the sky, among Sub-Mariner’s army, is a flying

ship (fig. 2-2) that suspiciously resembles Nite-Owl’s Owlship,

within which ride the members of Moore’s Watchmen. (fig. 2-3)

The scene thus

foreshadows of

invasions and

arrivals of dark

heroes, who would

replace those of

the idealistic

Golden and Silver

Ages. A few days

after Sheldon and Gwen meet,

Gwen is kidnapped by the Green

Goblin, resulting in her death

and marking, in the

allegorical rendering of the

history of comics in Marvels,

the beginning the Bronze Age,

the gritty foreshadowing of

Moore and Miller’s later turn toward darkness. Sheldon, who

had only just rediscovered his admiration for the “Marvels”

Figure 2-2

Figure 2-3

31

through Gwen, is devastated, and can no longer bring himself

to take photographs or finish the documentary he was working

on.

Busiek and Ross argue through their series that such

disillusion is where superhero comics are headed. It is no

surprise then that Sheldon decides it is “time to retire” (Busiek

and Ross, Marvels #4). The destructive forces of darkness that

swept through superhero comics in the 1980s not only corrupted

superheroes, but also pushed away some of the fans who had been

supporting the superheroes for a long period of time. Marvels

implies that, just as Sheldon abandoned his Marvels, many

formerly loyal fans have lost their love of superhero comics

because they are disillusioned by the dark revisionist works.

Nostalgic Works, Case Two: Kingdom Come (1996)

Whereas Busiek and Ross’s Marvels went back into the past

to relive the births of traditional Marvel heroes, DC Comics’

Kingdom Come, written by Mark Waid and also drawn by Alex Ross,

takes its readers into the bleak future, where the Justice League

and Society have broken up, with each member now taking on

separate responsibilities, while Superman is fully retired.

The aging Golden and Silver Age heroes are more likely to be

past figures celebrated in places such as Planet Krypton, a

Planet Hollywood-like theme restaurant dedicated to Golden Age

superheroes. The streets are now run by a young, new generation

32

of heroes who are violent, brutal, and unforgiving. Looking

at these new heroes fight, it is difficult to determine who

is fighting for the good, for none seem to care for the running

civilians (fig. 2-4).

These heroes are not traditional selfless heroes in any sense;

they fight not for justice, but instead they “simply fight to

fight,” with one other as foes for their own pleasure, a trait

previously seen in the heroes of both Watchmen and The Dark

Knight Returns (Waid and Ross 22).

In these young pseudo-heroes, Waid and Ross echo the

brutality portrayed in Moore and Miller’s works; rather than

looking to the past, Kingdom Come portrays a sad future for

Figure 2-4

33

superheroes. All that remains are those who

fight for entertainment and pleasure.

The future Batman in Kingdom Come seems

to have inherited the ruthlessness of

Miller’s series as well. Batman no longer

patrols the city himself. Instead, he has

robots twice the size of people, roaming

and flying through Gotham, terrorizing

crooks into obedience. Wherever there is

a sign of criminal activity, a number of

these robots appear from the shadows of

buildings, their lights shining accusingly

against the wrongdoers, and circling them

from all directions so that they have

nowhere to run (fig. 2-5) By adopting the

unforgiving nature of recent young “heroes”

and maintaining his ambivalence as

developed in Miller’s series, Batman is able

to keep “his city under control” (Waid and

Ross 48).

In the beginning of the Kingdom Come series, Wonder Woman

visits a retired Superman to inform him of a recent nuclear

disaster. Responsible for this catastrophe is not a villain,

but Magog, “one of the new breed of heroes” (Waid and Ross 37),

whom Wonder Woman describes as “out of control” (Waid and Ross

Figure 2-5

34

34). According to hints in the text, Magog’s violent recklessness

drove Superman to leave Metropolis and into a secluded retirement

in the Fortress of Solitude. Magog, with his team, the Justice

Battalion, had “descended upon the weathered Parasite,” the

presumed villain (Waid and Ross 37). Magog and his team’s attacks

are ruthless, but “onlookers” are “not surprised . . . by the

savagery” (Waid and Ross 37). Parasite, who repeatedly shrieks,

“leave me alone,” panics because of the brutal beating, and

desperately lashes out, hitting a “nuclear-powered Captain

Atom” (Waid and Ross 37). Unexpectedly, Parasite’s attack “split

Captain Atom open,” causing a nuclear explosion, killing “close

to a million,” with “the dying Atom’s radioactive energy

[sweeping] hundreds of kilometers,” thus contaminating the

Midwest, including “the entire state of Kansas” (Waid and Ross

38).

These new generation heroes, including Kingdom Come’s

Batman and Magog, are descendants of the Dark Age of heroes

of Moore and Miller. They have inherited the unforgiving nature

and brutality to the point that readers cannot tell which

characters are on the good side any more. Their irresponsible

actions, attitudes far from heroic, and pleasure in causing

pain in their opponent ultimately causes the tragedy of

Parasite’s inadvertent nuclear detonation. Through this

accident, Waid and Ross imply that the dark superheroes no longer

function as heroes. The eradication of Superman’s earthly

35

childhood home of Smallville, Kansas, is, in Darius’s analysis,

“a metaphor for the excesses of revisionism,” that “demolished

the innocent idealism associated with Superman’s true-blue

childhood” (Darius). Superman’s hometown on Earth is where he

grew up to be the hero he is; it represents his origin as a

superhero as well as Midwestern small-town values. His adoptive

parents taught him that he must use his powers for the greater

good, and their love helped in creating his identity as a

superhero. Furthermore, because Superman was the first

character of the superhero genre, Kansas is the representative

birthplace of all heroes, from whence traditions and tropes

were built and developed.

The revisionism that arrived with the 1980s was not as sudden

as a nuclear explosion, emerging gradually through the

development of more naturalistic superhero comics during the

Bronze Age. Yet the reactions to the dark turn of Miller and

Moore were definitive. Readers’ and creators’ responses were

extreme in that they suddenly decided to turn their backs on

brightly colored hero comics, and replacing their pages with

dark, angst-filled ones. Magog is the outcome of this superhero

revisionism. Not only does his violent nature cause Superman

himself to lose hope in superheroism, it completely destroys

the state of Kansas in a nuclear holocaust. In this allegorical

figuring of the history of comics, the superhero genre thus

becomes utterly contaminated by extreme revisionism. They wipe

36

out traditional values completely, and the influences of

revisionism infect the genre at an extraordinary speed, leaving

morally ambiguous vigilantes on many pages of superhero comics.

Suffering awaits whoever wishes to return to the comics, or

to Kansas in Kingdom Come, for superheroes no longer represent

hopefulness, but rather moral devastation.

With the world

fallen into chaos,

Superman comes out of

retirement in order to

go against the

madness, but when he

does, he has no choice

but to take up the

darkness himself. This

immediately becomes

clear in the art as well

as the narrative of

Kingdom Come. In the

first panel of his

return, Superman looms

above normal citizens,

holding one rogue hero

in each hand, as if to

Figure 2-6

37

show he is more powerful than anyone there, and that he will

attempt to subdue everyone by force (fig. 2-6). The scowl on

his face will remain there for the rest of the series, for the

boy from Kansas is gone. Even the iconic crest on his chest

has changed its color from yellow and red to black and red.

The narrator of the series, Norman McKay, an ordinary citizen

much like Phil Sheldon of Marvels, stares up at the upgraded

Superman in horror, thinking that this is the beginning of “the

threat of Armageddon” (Waid and Ross 55). With an ominous shadow

constantly cast upon his features (fig.

2-7), Superman answers questioning

reporters that he “returned to teach them

the meaning of truth and justice” and that

they “will make things right again” (Waid

and Ross 68), but this turns out to be the

start of Superman’s tyrannical reign over

humans with superpowers.

Superman fights the “madmen” (Waid and

Ross 62) pretending to be heroes,and in

order to suppress them, “the deadliest and

most uncontrollable” (Waid and Ross 113)

are imprisoned in Gulag, a specially built

prison for that purpose in the wastelands of Kansas. Such tyranny

does not last of course, ending in tragedy that involves again

Figure 2-7

38

a nuclear explosion and the deaths of hundreds. Superman’s

realistic revisionism demonstrates that superheroes embracing

darkness will only lead to the destruction of the genre, as

seen in the finale of the battle between heroes, where only

Superman survives among skeletons. As The Spectre, who has been

guiding Norman throughout the series, claims “judgment has been

passed” (Waid and Ross 189), that there is no future in extreme

revisionism, and superheroes, as a genre, must earn fans’ trust

again.

While initially 1980s fans reacted enthusiastically to the

newly introduced darkness of comics heroes, as some point out,

“many in the 1990s believed that this darkness had resulted

in a creative dead end” (Darius), in which its restrictions

limit the possible variations of heroes and stories. Hence

creators such as Busiek, Waid, and Ross, through their nostalgic

series, point out the pitfalls of ignorantly praising innovative

trends while disregarding the past. Interestingly, their return

to tradition brought recognition to a new market, in which

consumers began eagerly seeking out nostalgic works. On one

hand, there were those who still desired the trendy dark heroes

edging towards antiheroes, whereas on the other, many people

wished to read works where heroes were presented in a more

traditional manner. It seems superhero trends in the 1990s were

heading in two different directions.

39

As I discussed in the previous chapter, Watchmen and The

Dark Knight Returns are still praised as revisionist works that

depart successfully from outdated traditional superhero comics

now considered immature and silly. Also, as two of the first

superhero works designated “graphic novels,” they continue to

be picked up by the media, such as Time, with their “List of

the 100 Best Novels,” compiled in 2005, and by audiences who

are not usually familiar with superhero comics. Such works are

still widely seen as the new type of superhero comics valued

and accepted in modern times. However, within the first decade

after these revisionist comics works appeared, some creators

and fans already began to mourn the loss of tradition, and the

fact that most of the superheroes had gone in the same direction,

towards the darkness Moore and Miller introduced to the genre.

As a result of this perceived conformity, creators who were

unconvinced by the extreme revisionism that took place in the

industry as a result of the influence of Moore and Miller

published new works that returned to the roots of the hero

character and the genre as a whole.

At a glance, then, it would seem superhero comics’ attitudes

towards tradition are binary: either they are revisionist or

traditional. However, closer readings show that such an

understanding is simplistic.

For example, Miller did indeed make major progress in

superhero comics with The Dark Knight Returns. He introduced

40

a new style in comics art with sketchier lines, colored by

colorist Lynn Varley in watercolors, rather than the usual clear

line style and bold, simple colors (fig. 2-8), and proved that

superhero comics with existing

characters can be

sophisticated, but more

importantly to many, he wrote

Batman as the dark vigilante,

a characteristic that would

continue for the next two

decades. What is easily

forgotten, however, with the

prevalence of the eye-catching

campy image of Batman that had

been standard since the 1960s,

is that in his first appearance

in 1939, had begun as a ruthless

vigilante with an unforgiving attitude towards villains .

Michael Fleisher, in his Original Encyclopedia of Comic Book

Heroes, notes of the early versions of the character that “easily

a score of criminals die by his hand” due to his “grim brutality”

(Fleisher 83). Thus, Miller’s Batman is in some sense returning

to his roots. Whether this was done deliberately in The Dark

Knight Returns or not, the past, present, and future of Batman

become interconnected and inseparable.

Figure 2-8

41

Both Marvels and Kingdom Come, while they focus on nostalgic

superhero narratives, also display the kind of complexity that

was a prominent feature of the graphic novel, which employs

subtle techniques such as symbolism as it targets mature readers

rather than children. Furthermore, both works end with hope

for the future represented by the next generation of heroes.

For example, in the ending of Kingdom Come, the Golden Age heroes

seem to be back in retirement once again. Clark and Diana meet

up with Bruce in the theme restaurant, Planet Krypton, as if

in remembrance of the old days, with surprising news. They

announce (although Bruce, being the World’s Greatest Detective,

figures it out through “observation” before they do), that Diana

is pregnant with Clark’s child. The announcement is then followed

by Diana addressing Bruce with her hope that he will become

the child’s godfather. This unborn child would thus be “the

child of Superman and Wonder Woman[,] and Batman” (Waid and

Ross 212); literally, the second generation. Clark hopes that

the child will be a “battler for truth[,] justice[,] and a new

American way,” and dreams about a hopeful future (Waid and Ross

212).

In Marvels, we find a similar gesture of hope on the last

page, as Phil Sheldon, after declaring his retirement from

photographing the Marvels, decides to take one final picture

to mark the day as both an end and a new beginning. He calls

over a newspaper boy who was passing by, and asks him, “a nice,

42

normal ordinary boy” (Busiek and Ross Marvels #4) to join the

picture with him and his wife. Sheldon does not realize that

this boy who introduces himself as Danny Ketch will in the future

become superhero Ghost Rider. Possessing the power of the Spirit

of Vengeance, Ghost Rider, an antihero, is a flaming skeleton

in a leather jacket, riding a blazing motorcycle. As a series,

Ghost Rider is in every sense a post-Watchmen/The Dark Knight

Returns (anti)hero comic: it is poorly written, and the visuals

are utterly engulfed in angst, darkness, and violence. In this

sense, the final moments of Marvels indicate the coming darkness

and disillusions. However, as Sheldon places an accepting hand

on Danny’s shoulder, the clouds open up to a bright sun and

blue skies, and Sheldon, his wife, and Danny smile into the

camera and towards, a promising future, similar to the Big 3

in Kingdom Come (figure 2.9).

In this way, though Kingdom Come and Marvels are nostalgic

in reminding readers of the Golden and Silver Ages, they do

not completely dismiss the recent innovations in superhero

comics. Rather, they show optimism, not only in the characters

and stories, but also in the genre itself, by incorporating

(at times critically) the new directions Moore and Miller were

able to bring into superhero comics, which not only include

realism and darkness but also more sophisticated narratives,

into future works to broaden the possibilities of what superhero

43

Figure 2-9

comics may achieve. The hint of a bright future in the final

panels of both series expresses their hope for the unknown future

and the coming generations of superheroes.

At the same time, Kingdom Come and Marvels brought

44

recognition to a new approach to superhero comics, in which

comics reflect on superhero comics and their industries. Whereas

comics previously published such as Watchmen and The Dark Knight

Returns criticized harshly real world events of contemporary

society such as the government’s attitudes toward the Cold and

Vietnam Wars, these comics, such as Kingdom Come and Marvels

examine more closely what is happening to their fictional

universes, collectively arguing against superhero comics

heavily influenced by darkness. Such self-reflexivity continues

into the present.

Nostalgic comics creators are not the only ones who must

be aware of both the past and future of the genre. For instance,

even creators who hope to escape the binds of tradition must

also acknowledge what traditional works of the past have given

them, as T.S. Eliot claims in “Tradition and the Individual

Talent.” In this essay, Eliot challenges how poets are praised

by their peers and audiences for how original and different

their works are in comparison to their predecessors. He claims

that a writer, in creating literature, must not write “merely

with his own generation in his bones[,] but with a feeling [of]

the whole of the literature of Europe from Homer and within

it the whole of the literature of his own country” (Eliot

“Tradition”). In other words, Eliot argues that a writer should

not focus solely on contemporary trends or on creating such

innovations, but rather, also understand tradition, and fuse

45

the spirit of the great works of the past with the newness of

the present. It is easy to dismiss the characteristics of the

past that are incorporated into innovative works, as seen in

the voluble appreciations for Moore and Miller’s

ground-breaking graphic novels of the eighties.

46

Chapter III

Not Too Old, Not Too New: Part One,

The New Superheroes in Seven Soldiers of Victory (2006)

The complex interplay between tradition and innovations

allows us to realize that successful innovative works of

contemporary times have always also had traditional aspects

blended into their narratives, and superheroes comics are no

exception. In this perspective, I would like to look closely

into Grant Morrison’s Seven Soldiers of Victory, published by

DC Comics. Seven Soldiers is an unusual series presented in

a style, especially in its narrative structure, that is found

in no other comic. In Seven Soldiers, modern life on earth is

threatened by a culture-devouring species called the Sheeda,

and as the title of the series suggests, seven heroes, Zatanna,

the Shining Knight, Bulleteer, Klarion the Witch Boy,

Frankenstein, Mister Miracle, and the Manhattan Guardian, are

called forth according to a prophecy to defeat these creatures.

While this description resembles an ordinary superhero team

comics series, saving the world through collective effort, what

is unique about Seven Soldiers is that none of the seven heroes

actually meet their teammates. The series consists of a prologue,

epilogue, and seven miniseries for each soldier, all of which

are loosely interrelated, therefore creating one grand

narrative when read as a whole.

47

Seven Soldiers is like no series that came before, in that

it disrupts traditional narrative form, and created a new model

for superhero comics; Morrison himself stated in an interview

that his intention is to “re-build the ‘superhero’ concept from

the ground up.” (Morrison qtd. in Popimage). He believes that

in order for superhero universes to “remain viable and stay

alive,” change is inevitable, and that the genre must keep

evolving (Morrison, Supergods 118). This message about what

Morrison explicitly says he hopes to achieve through the series

is already embedded in the first few pages of the prologue,

or Part Zero, in a short segment entitled Weird Adventures.

On the first page of the issue, Thomas Ludlow Dalt, or The Spider,

heads for a cottage in Slaughter Swamp, hired to “kill a very

special target” (1.12). Slaughter Swamp is, according to the

man rowing the boat that conveys Thomas toward the cottage,

“where solid things turn soft and change” (1.10). Readers

familiar with the DC Universe will also recognize Slaughter

Swamp as the place where Cyrus Gold was killed, then brought

back as an undead monster named Solomon Grundy. Slaughter Swamp

then, is where the dead return and the solid turn soft again,

so that it may be molded into something different. It is thus

the perfect place to reshape the superhero genre itself, which

has up until now limited its narrative possibilities due to

its dependence on traditions and tropes built over time.

The story in this prologue echoes the motif of transformation

48

from old to new. The Seven Unknown Men await Thomas in the cottage.

As he enters, seemingly confused at the strange rooms, the Unknown

Men condemn him for being “another schmuck with bows and arrows”

(1.12), meaning he is another superhero with overused

characteristics and no uniqueness; they promptly relieve him

of his costume and weapons, wiping him clean. The Unknown Men

claim that it was they who hired Thomas for the assassination

job, but there is a twist in it: “the person [he]’ll be helping . . .

kill, is [him]self” (1.12). Repeating once more that Slaughter

Swamp is a place “where solid things turn soft and change,”

the Unknown Men urge the now naked Thomas into a shower stall

that appears out of nowhere. Under the spray of water, his colors

are drained away, with his dark hair turning light gray and

healthy skin

turning pale, as if

to wash away his

past and

personality, in

the act of “killing

himself” (fig.

3-1). Now stripped

and clean, the

Unknown Men

promise Thomas that Figure 3-1

49

they will “get [him] cool new clothes” (1.13).

The Seven Unknown Men, residing in Slaughter Swamp, belong

to the place of “in-between,” existing between the fictional

DC Universe and the reality we live in. This strange location

allows them to become manipulators of time and characters, so

that they can guide the superheroes to save the Earth from

destruction at the hands of the Sheeda. In addition to the Men’s

baldness, a noted physical trait of Morrison himself, readers

will later note in the final issue, Seven Soldiers of Victory:

Part One, that one of the Men wears a DC Comics logo on his

neck-tie. Given these physical details, it may be that, as many

have speculated, the Unknown Men represent avatars of Grant

Morrison himself(Wolk 281, Singer 232), or perhaps, comics

creators more generally. Ergo, the Time Tailors’ renewal of

the character, I, Spider, from a clichéd, “tenth rate” (1.12)

superhero into a “cool” one fit for their mission to save the

Earth serves as an allegory of comic book creators reexamining

the superhero genre, getting rid of outdated traditional

characters and themes, and updating them for contemporary

readers.

Rejection One: Superhero Stereotypes

Morrison’s Soldiers, his superheroes in the series, are

also inventive in that they are carefully fabricated so that

none of them follow the stereotypes still dogging many

50

contemporary creators and readers. One such famous stereotype

that still exists to the consternation of many fans, critics,

creators, and readers, is the white-Caucasian-male hero

formula. Though superhero comics have recently been

diversifying their characters and attaining a great deal of

media attention for it, the fact remains that the most famous

heroes are predominantly white males. While today’s superhero

comics readers are probably able to name a few famous superheroes

who are people of color and/or female, most non-fans today mainly

see heroes through film adaptations featuring characters, such

as Superman, Batman, Captain America, and Iron Man, all portrayed

as and by Caucasian males. Furthermore, not only does Marvel’s

upcoming Ant-Man movie star another white protagonist, Marvel

Studios recently announced that a British Caucasian actor,

Benedict Cumberbatch, will portray Doctor Strange in another

upcoming film, a move that brought on controversy among fans

about the possible white-washing of a racially ambiguous

character (see Baker-Whitelaw; Rodriguez).

In some adaptations, producers have cast non-white actors

to play characters that were originally white: for example,

Idris Elba plays Heimdell, a Norse God in Thor (2011), and in

2003, Marvel introduced an African American Captain America

in a new comics series. Unfortunately, the former provoked a

white supremacist group to boycott the film (Child). Such

volatile fan reactions, both progressive and reactionary,

51

demonstrate the difficulties in addressing the problematic

reality that the white male remains the dominant hero in a genre

where mutants and aliens with green skin or multiple eyes

scattered across their faces roam freely.

This is mainly due to several factors. One is that many

superheroes were created decades ago, when people of color were

rarely seen in mainstream entertainment. As Andrew Wheeler

points out in his article on superhero diversity, the first

“heroes were . . . created as white Americans because white

American audiences expected their heroes to look like them”

(Wheeler). This is not true in today’s racially diverse US

society, but as mentioned above, there are still conservative

fans that dislike how publishers are trying to bring in more

people of color, for these fans “want exactly what they fell

in love with over and over again” (Rucka qtd. in Rogers). Because

whiteness remains the status quo, conservative fans find white

superheroes “logical and comfortable” (Wheeler), and this

basically conservative value is reinforced by the superheroes’

job to maintain a stable society, rather than re-invent a new

one (Reynolds).

Powerful female characters such as Wonder Woman and the

Black Widow still remain supporting characters in the films,

and neither has her own adaptation, because of the belief that

superheroes’ target audiences are predominantly heterosexual

male. Feminist journalist and founder of Ms. magazine, Gloria

52

Steinem already argued back in 1972, that “the comic book

performers of . . . superhuman feats . . . are almost always

heroes” rather than heroines, and female characters were reduced

to “being so incompetent and passive” (Steinem 203). Even as

female superheroes gradually started to make appearances,

characters such as the Invisible Girl, later the Invisible Woman,

from Marvel’s Fantastic Four show clearly that superhero comics

were created for male audiences. While the Invisible Woman does

later become one of the most powerful superheroes, her initial

powers were to become invisible, as her name suggests, while

her other team members had more active powers such as turning

into flame (the Human Torch), stretching his body into various

shapes (Mister Fantastic), and super-strength that comes from

his rock-solid body (The Thing). Lillian Robinson, in her essay

defending the Invisible Girl cannot but admit that the Invisible

Girl possessed “stereotyped feminine roles” (Robinson 214),

where her primary concern is fashion rather than superheroism.

Now, as the Invisible Woman, she is no longer a shy, passive

female superhero, but the film adaptation of The Fantastic Four

from 2005 shows her in her underwear in several scenes, which

supports the new sexualized stereotype of female characters.

In Supergirls, which focuses on the history of female

superheroes, Mike Madrid points out how “women in comics had

always provided the eye candy for male readers,” (Madrid 279)

or how “female superheroes must look attractive . . . and in

53

the world of male fantasy, attractive = sexy” (Madrid 290).

Therefore, traditionally, female characters in superhero comics

were unable to attain the (super)power the males were given.

As of 2014, more and more series with female protagonists have

made appearances, but protagonists of film adaptations still

remain male.

However, despite the strong traditions of gendered and

racial stereotypes running through the superhero industry,

there are no Caucasian male leads in Seven Soldiers. The prologue

does start with Thomas Dalt, but the main role as the protagonist

of the issue is soon taken over by Shelly Gaynor, the female

hero known as the Whip. Of the Seven, both the Guardian and

Mister Miracle are African Americans, while Bulleteer and

Zatanna are female. Frankenstein, based on the creature from

Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, has no specific race, considering

he was created by parts from several bodies stitched together.

The closest these characters get to the Caucasian male superhero

default is in the two characters of Klarion and the Shining

Knight, or Sir Justin, although neither exactly fits the

description. Klarion, with his pale blue skin and ghastly

appearance (fig. 3-2), comes from the underground Limbo Town,

which used to be a Puritan town in Roanoke, and has cut itself

off from the outside world. As the years have gone by, the

townspeople have come to call themselves witch-men and

witch-women, with necromancy as part of their everyday lives.

54

Furthermore, later in the

series, it is revealed that

Melmoth, the husband of

Gloriana Tenebrae, the Sheeda

Queen, had interbred with the

people of Roanoke, making him

the distant ancestor of these

mysterious people. Though

Klarion originates from a town

that still practices some of

the customs of the American

Puritans who originally came from England, he is far from what

readers would look for in a white male hero: he is slight, devious,

and relies on magic rather than physical strength, not to mention

the fact that he proves to be a traitor in the final battle

of Seven Soldiers #1. Sir Justin, on the other hand, as a member

of the Knights of the Broken Table of Camelot would seem to

fit the requirements. As a noble English knight, we may infer

that he is English and appears to be Caucasian. He is a true

hero, who believes in defeating the evil forces until the last.

Yet, in the final issue of Shining Knight, it is revealed that

Sir Justin is actually Justina, “a girl knight” (2.113) who

willingly dressed and passed as a man to help save Camelot and

Sir Galahad, a knight she is in love with . Thus, the typical

Figure 3-2

55

white male heroic figures that have held center stage in superhero

comics are significantly missing in Seven Soldiers, rejecting

one of the most common stereotypes of the genre.

Rejection Two: Ideological Superheroes

In defining what it means for a character to be a superhero,

Peter Coogan refers to a court case from 1952, in which the

creator of Wonder Man’s character was accused of copying

Superman’s, and in which the presiding Judge Learned Hand,

provided a definition of a superhero in his opinion. Coogan

explains Hand’s three elements and expands on their meaning

as follows. Coogan claims that, first of all, “superpowers are

one of the most identifiable elements of the superhero genre”

(Coogan 78). This, alongside the obvious, recognizably

superhuman powers of, for example, Superman (super strength,

the ability to fly, x-ray vision, etc.), also includes the

exceptional human “physical strength and mental abilities” of

Batman that “allow him to fight crime alongside his more powerful

brethren,” though he is not exactly “super” (Coogan 83). The

second element is “identity,” consisting of the hero’s

“codename[,] . . . costume[,]” and “secret identity” (Coogan

78). The costume and codename helps the superhero to become

an icon, while the secret identity separates the superhero from

the ordinary citizen underneath the mantle. The function of

this secret identity varies individually; some may wish to

56

preserve their privacy, and others may want to keep their alter

ego a secret to protect their loved ones. Most importantly,

the third element is the “mission,” which usually motivates

the superheroes to save the innocent from disasters, or more

likely, keep them safely out of the hands of evil. The superhero’s

“mission” must be “selfless” and “not . . . intended to benefit

or further his own agenda . . . because someone who does not

act selflessly to aid others in times of need is not heroic”

(Coogan 77). Though having a “mission” is not limited to

superheroes, for it defines the “hero” aspect that can be found

in other action genres such as Westerns, it does give the

superheroes a purpose and an essential reason for existence.

These three features have solidified to become crucial

ingredients to a superhero that can easily be identified in

all the major superheroes, including the Big Three of both Marvel

and DC.

It is interesting, therefore, that none of the heroes in

Seven Soldiers, save Sir Justin, completely fulfill all three

of these traditional superhero requirements. Though Zatanna

is the most famous of the seven characters, with numerous

appearances in several different series since her 1964 debut,

the events in Identity Crisis (2004) are still fresh in fans’

memories: she, alongside other members of the Justice League,

was exposed for performing mind-wiping on villains after

shocking events. With her magic powers, Zatanna was responsible

57

for, not only wiping the villain’s memories, but also altering

his personality completely. The series revealed the

uncomfortable truths of moral ambiguity that can exist among

heroes, and while Identity Crisis is not referred to directly

in Seven Soldiers, it is part of the character’s and the DC

Universe’s history that constitute the subtext of her story,

making it difficult for readers to define her as an idealistic

superhero. In Morrison’s Seven Soldiers, Zatanna participates

in a support group for troubled superheroes, where she confesses

to using her magic powers for personal reasons, ending up in

a tragic accident. After these dreadful incidents, Zatanna,

having lost confidence, loses her powers. Deprived of her mission

along with her superpowers, Zatanna is a failed superhero.

None of the other remaining Soldiers is exactly a selfless

superhero. Frankenstein fights the forces of Sheeda, mainly

Melmoth, not out of selflessness, but rather because Melmoth’s

blood created Frankenstein, and he feels rage against being

brought to life in such way. Klarion only sets out from Limbo

Town because of curiosity towards the outside world, and fans

may note that he is destined to become a villain, as he has

been in most of his previous appearances in the DC Universe.

Jake Jordan becomes the Guardian because he was unemployed after

leaving the police force, and his father-in-law recommended

him. Alix Harrower, or Bulleteer, declares bluntly that she

is “not a superhero” (3) , though she later becomes one.

58

Thus, Sir Justin is the only member who completes the

power/identity/mission formula. Indeed he is physically human,

but his status as a Knight and his sense of justice and skill

in battle easily position him as “super.” His identity as the

Shining Knight is not a secret, with no distinction between

the Knight and Sir Justin, but both serve as disguises in a

sense, since he is actually the female Justina passing as a

man. Finally, out of all the Seven, Sir Justin is the most

selfless, for he pledges, as “one knight of Camelot” (1.165)

to fight against the prophecy of a coming Dark Age, led by the

Sheeda. Morrison’s subversive intent in creating this character

seems deliberate, in that the sole perfect superhero is a boy

(and a girl) who accidentally slips from Arthurian times to

the present, or in other words, is out of time. Sir Justin’s

character shows that the idealistic superhero image that has

been bound firmly into the genre for decades is literally out

of time, and only those of the past are able to occupy it as

comfortably as Sir Justin does.

Rejection Three: Typical Narrative Models

Finally, while crossovers and team ups between series are

common within the genre of superhero comics, the narrative model

Morrison uses in Seven Soldiers is unique, incorporating styles

and structures that are still relatively unknown within the

genre, but that may open up to new possibilities in the near

59

future. In an interview, Morrison explained that he “developed

a ‘modular’ storytelling technique” (Morrison qtd. in Popimage)

for this series, which he describes as the following:

Each issue is stand alone, each miniseries can be read

complete and the whole thing assembles like a jigsaw into

one huge epic with multiple, criss-crossing storylines,

ranging across a swathe of genres and human emotions

(Morrison qtd. in Popimage).

In other words, modular storytelling, which “ became a field

of study with the rise of video games,” is a “method of

storytelling that is a nonlinear arrangement of equal, yet

complete, modules” in which each module may be understood by

itself, “but when combined with other modules, it becomes a

larger, deliberate narrative” (King).

This form of serial storytelling also encourages audiences

to become more active in seeking out the threads of the narrative.

The previous reading experience was more passive and linear,

where the reader received the words and information as they

are given to them with each new issue of a comic series, but

the modular storytelling technique stimulates audiences into

looking for information themselves, even having the freedom

to decide whether or not to go all the way through certain

plotlines, and finally piecing the smaller story elements

together to form a whole. This narrative model in Seven Soldiers

means that readers may switch around the reading order or go

60

back and forth between the miniseries to fill in the blanks

Morrison purposely left open. In Seven Soldiers, Morrison

therefore disregards the notion, traditional not only in

superhero comics, but the act of reading most kinds of stories,

that reading is a linear process with a beginning, middle, and

end. The series leads to the readers adopting a reading style

that is still uncommon, but,

while it can prove extremely

difficult and challenging,

makes possible new ways of

experiencing the serial

comics narrative.

The seven miniseries of

Seven Soldiers thus can be

read in any order or as a

stand-alone, if one is not

following the grand

narrative. Each mini-series

illustrates the separate

challenges each protagonist

faces, and more importantly,

each features its own

individual themes and styles of art and narrative to further

distinguish the seven modules from one another. For instance,

Shining Knight has a hand-painted look instead of the traditional

Figure 3-3

61

bold, flat coloring, appropriate for the fantastic atmosphere

of the character and his origins, but the series also tends

to be naturalistic in its line art, merging fantasy and reality,

for some scenes are set in the dirty streets of New York (fig.

3-3). In Bulleteer, Morrison comments on the fetishizations

of female superheroes and how some creators are using them to

draw women in gratuitously sexualized costumes and positions,

and he uses the visuals to argue his point. The penciller, Yanick

Paquette draws Alix in sensual poses that appear much too forced

to be natural, wearing revealing outfits on almost every panel

she appears in. Even her metallic skin, colored by colorist

Alex Sinclair in bright bluish whites, is sexual in that it

shines so that her

breasts that are

overemphasized

(figure 3.4).

However,

Zatanna’s use of art

is even more

exceptional in that

unlike Shining

Knight where the art establishes atmosphere with its colors,

or Bulleteer, where the line art plays a part in delivering

a message, Zatanna’s magical abilities allow both her and the

Figure 3-4

62

penciller, Ryan Sook, to radically explore and exceed the spaces

of comic book pages. Because magic, where there are no

limitations, enables characters to jump through dimensions,

Zatanna and Zor, whom she battles, crash and fall through panels,

rip and crumple them (fig. 3-5), and even reach out of her page

and panels, towards readers and the Seven Unknown Men who are

outside of her

two-dimensional

universe. In Seven

Soldiers of

Victory: Part One,

which brings all the

miniseries

together into the

grand narrative,

artist and colorist

J.H. Williams III

copies each of the

different visual

styles of the seven miniseries, sometimes using several

different styles within a single page, to unite what were

individual storyline into the grand narrative (fig. 3-6).

Figure 3-5

63

Figure 3-6

64

Experimenting with the New Metafiction

This acknowledgement of a greater narrative existing

outside the separate modules shows Morrison’s recognition of

Seven Soldiers as a metafictional work that explores of the

medium of comics and its seriality, as well as comments on how

they function. These metafictional aspects are further

contributed by the characters of the Seven Unknown Men and

Zatanna.

The metafictional text is “extreme[ly] self-[conscious]

about language, literary form and the act of writing fictions”

and “draws attention to its status as an artifact” (Waugh 2).

Metafictional comics, then, where characters are explicitly

written to draw attention to the fact that they are creations

influenced by writers, are not especially new. In fact, Morrison

favors metafictional style; Animal Man #26 (1990) is still known

as one of the most famous metafictional comics in the genre.

Here, Morrison inserts himself into the comics pages, and through

his interactions with Animal Man, Morrison crumbles the fourth

wall between the creator and creation.

Morrison makes a similar meta-fictional move with Zatanna,

in Zatanna: Part Four. During her battle with Zor, formerly

one of the Unknown Men but now gone rogue and has become a villain,

she feels her surroundings go “soft and [flip],” and hears “voices

coming from nowhere” (3). She starts crawling towards the reader,

and hoping to “contact them” (3), she reaches out as if trying

65

to break the barrier, and presses her hand against the page,

which is drawn in a life-size scale (fig. 3-7), hoping to break

through the fourth

wall, thus

challenging the

usual boundaries of

superhero comics art

and narrative. This

allows her to slip

into a dimension

above hers, where the

Seven Unknown Men

resides.

Zatanna is now

a different world,

recalling the

mysterious cottage

in Slaughter Swamp,

that exists as “one

of those in-between

places” (1.12) from

Part Zero. Here she feels “eyes, tens of thousands of eyes,

in different times and places,” or in other words, eyes of readers

and creators from our reality, “all converging on [her]” (3).

The Unknown Men explain to her that they “patch and . . . sew”

Figure 3-7

66

to “make sure the fabric of [the DC] universe is kept in good

repair” (3). Zatanna, therefore, consciously becomes a

fictional creation, who had not only reached out to her readers,

but also towards her creators in a dimension between reality

and fiction, which are usually separated, never to be merged.

Seven Soldiers’s metafictional commentary however, takes

a step beyond merely reflecting the comics medium and the

superhero genre by criticizing the superhero genre and its

industry. Appearances of such reflections started to become

recognizable with Kingdom Come and Marvels, which criticized

the dark paths the superhero comics industry is taking, and

Seven Soldiers does this as well. Throughout the series, Morrison

comments on the recent superhero comics industry’s tendency

to strip away its pasts and traditions in hopes of creating

something new. Gradually, works have started to incorporate

a new form of metafiction, where the commentary reaches out

farther than the mechanism of graphic narratives, and into the

culture of the superhero genre. This is a quite recent

achievement, for the superhero genre now finally has enough

history for contemporary readers to examine and consider

critically, how the genre functions through its narratives,

industry, and fictional universes. Superhero comics thus are

now able to examine not only present societies, but also their

own extensive publishing and fictional histories as well.

67

Seven Soldiers of Victory both looks into and disregards

traditions in superhero comics, as it introduces new ideas,

styles, and structures into the genre. The prologue sets out

one of the themes of this series: that superhero comics must

keep on evolving and adapt to its contemporary times, rather

than clinging to traditions built decades ago. To explore this

idea, Morrison dedicates a superhero team where none of the

characters are stereotypical. Many of the mainstream

superheroes of the previous ages were Caucasian males,

especially since many of them were created in the forties and

fifties, and even if the characters themselves are unique

individually, superheroes usually share similar

characteristics traits. However, none of the Seven Soldiers

conform to the stereotypes, and none of them can be considered

an idealistic superhero, besides the Shining Knight, who does

not belong in the twenty-first century. Morrison also brings

in a narrative model relatively unknown within comics, and shows

there is no need for narrative structures to follow traditional

models, but that they too can be updated. This, with the addition

of creative use of graphics and visual style, which separates

comics from regular novels, Morrison’s innovative work pushes

superhero comics that were held back by tradition into modern

times, keeping the genre fresh and still, after all these years,

open to endless possibilities.

68

Chapter IV

Not Too Old, Not Too New: Part Two,

Respecting the Past in Seven Soldiers of Victory

Despite Morrison’s insistence on change and progressions

I have examined in the previous section, we cannot disregard

the respect Morrison has towards the past Ages of superhero

comics. All Star Superman (2006-8) is one example where

Morrison’s appreciation for older comics can be seen. The series

was part of the All-Star line by DC Comics, which allowed major

comics creators to create new storylines for famous DC heroes

without any restrictions by the publisher. While the series

is frequently described as “fundamentally antinostalgic”

(Singer 257), Morrison explains enthusiastically that in

preparation, he “read various accounts of Superman’s creation

and development as a brand,” and “read every Superman story

and watched every Superman movie [he] could lay [his] hands

on, from the Golden Age to the present day” (Morrison qtd. in

Smith). He does admit to “recreating characters,” but only

through “extract[ing], purify[ing] and refin[ing]” the

“essential ‘Superman-ness’ that powered” the comics and

character (Morrison qtd. in Smith).

Another example originated in September 2011, when DC

re-launched their comics universe by cancelling all their titles

and starting them again from issue one, naming Morrison the

69

writer for Superman’s Action Comics. Describing his run on the

series, he says he is “looking back at the original Superman

as a champion of the oppressed,” which was the catch-phrase

given to Superman upon his first appearance,” and not necessarily

a figure of law and order or patriotism,” which was exactly

how Superman was written in The Dark Knight Returns, as a rival

of Batman, who seeks justice and justice only (Morrison qtd.

in Thill). Morrison also claims that he and artist Rags Morales

hoped to “honor [the] spirit” of Superman’s first creators,

out of respect for Jerry Siegel’s narrative and Joe Shuster’s

art (Morrison qtd. in Thill). In both cases, Morrison was given

an opportunity to update Superman’s character. Yet, in neither

does he blatantly criticize past comics, but instead, takes

concepts built in the past and developed over time, and adapts

them into the present without turning his works into “a dinosaur

killer and wrecker of worlds” (Morrison 195) like Moore’s

Watchmen.

New Characters vs. the Old

Along with acknowledgement of the importance of past

superhero works, Morrison’s wariness towards the Dark Age’s

revisionism are explicitly reflected in the innovative Seven

Soldiers. This can first be seen in Part Zero. Here, a Golden

Age hero, the Vigilante, recruits heroes to finish his

“unfinished business” (1.24) from the late 1800s, or in other

70

words, defeat the “Miracle Mesa monster” (1.31) which is later

revealed as the Sheeda. Because Bulleteer backed out at the

last minute, the hero team has only six members instead of the

seven as the prophecy mandates, and thus automatically, these

heroes are destined to doom, but their deaths are hinted through

the characters themselves compared to the later more successful

Seven Soldiers.

The Vigilante, like the Shining Knight, has been “kicked

around in time” (1.23) and is a man out of time. The Shining

Knight, though he originally belongs in Arthurian times is

successful in the series as he promises to become the defender

of the world he was thrown into, and a white t-shirt and a pair

of jeans suddenly appear over his golden armor, suggesting he

had successfully modernized himself. The Vigilante, on the other

hand, clings to the past. Tossed into the twenty-first century,

in his never-changing cowboy attire, he is still pursuing the

monster he encountered more than a century ago. He carries him

a newspaper clip dated 1875, along with a picture of himself

with his former superhero team, the original Seven Soldiers

of Victory. Unlike the Shining Knight, the Vigilante lives in

the past, and with Morrison’s argument that superhero comics

must adapt to its times, he fails his mission, resulting in

his death.

The other five recruits of his, including I, Spyder (former

The Spider, updated by the Unknown Men) who was transformed

71

by the Seven Unknown Men in Slaughter Swamp, are the antithesis

of the Vigilante, in that they are all characters created for

this series. While some characters such as Boy Blue and I, Spyder

are related to forgotten Golden Age superheroes, there are no

homages to them as we find among the members of the (successful)

Seven Soldiers. These new superheroes have no past and are flat

in character. More importantly, they obviously lack in mission,

one of the important traits of superheroes. Shelly Gaynor, or

The Whip, the narrator of Part Zero, is a superhero only for

the excitement, contacting the Vigilante because she craves

new adventures, for “the buildings [she] jump[s] from aren’t

tall enough” (1.19) anymore. No background is provided to readers

about Gimmix other than the fact that she has gotten a face

lift. Boy Blue is a kid wearing what he calls a “Ghost Suit,”

with a weaponized Horn provided by a third party, and Dyno-Mite

Dan is a “hero-vestite” who bought magical “Mystery Rings” online

(1.27). None of these wannabe heroes are most devoted to saving

innocents, and are more interested in amusing themselves playing

superhero.

Through this failed team of flat, new heroes, Morrison also

criticizes the tendency within the profit-seeking superhero

comics industry to create random new characters. As Shelly Gaynor

insists: “Work out hard. Expose yourself to alien rays. Get

born a mutant. Have a grudge…Seems easy, doesn’t it?” (1.13-4)

Creating superheroes is now extremely easy with many usable

72

tropes existing within the genre, but as a result, there is

often no originality in the characters, or appeal to fans. By

bringing back superheroes created in the past, Morrison argues

that there are already perfectly useful materials available,

ready to be renewed to fit the present era, not entirely

disregarded.

Morrison’s reluctance to succumb to extreme revisionism

is further demonstrated through Shelly Gaynor’s character and

the art depicting her character, The Whip. With her character,

he further elaborates his argument that superheroes are destined

to doom when they neglect their predecessors. Firstly,

Morrison’s wariness towards The Dark Knight Returns, and

negative attitudes toward the classic works of revisionism,

especially Watchmen, are infamous among superhero fans. For

instance, in an interview in 2007, conducted by 2000 AD, he

stated, “Dark Knight is a brilliant piece of Reagan-era fiction

and Watchmen is very, very clever in its architecture, but both

books felt pompous and concept album-y to me as a young man

in the 80s” (Morrison qtd. in Barnett). Later in Supergods,

Morrison claims that the characters of Watchmen are

“conventional Hollywood stereotypes” (Morrison 204) and the

narratives have “story flaws” (Morrison 205); he does not attempt

to hide his “negative judgment” (Morrison 204). He felt

“exhausted,” he says, by the comics industry only “concentrating

on the violence and sex and perceived realism” and worried about

73

how “themes of brutal urban vigilantism were playing out in

an increasingly stylized set of post-Miller gestures” (Morrison

230).

The Whip is exactly the type of superhero born after Moore

and Miller’s influences on superhero comics. First of all, her

appearance as a superhero is extremely sexualized. Her studded

mask, thigh high boots, and her extremely revealing costume

make her look like a dominatrix. The spread page features her

jumping buildings in a suggestive pose, where readers’ eyes

are drawn to the pale skin of her thighs that stand out in

comparison to her black boots and costume. On the next page,

where she comes in

for a landing,

readers are only

presented with

her buttocks and

thighs, and when

she finally comes

crashing down on

the crooks she was

after, her thighs

are spread wide, and her breasts are positioned right at the

center of the panel; once again, her revealing body draws readers’

attention rather than her heroic actions (fig. 4-1). The first

Figure 4-1

74

panel on the next page shows a silhouette of her weapon of choice,

a whip, but with her sexually suggestive poses and costume,

it invites questions as to whether she is actually a superhero

fighting villains, or a dominatrix figure designed to provide

some excitement. Shelly herself seems to be unsure of her identity

as a superhero, for she asks, “how do you know when you’ve become

a superhero and not just a crazy fetish person with a death

wish?” (1.19).What separates The Whip from Bulleteer, whose

character also exemplifies the sexualization and fetishizations

of superheroes, is that The Whip takes on violence in her

superhero persona alongside sex.

The style of art suddenly changes when The Whip is back

to being Shelly Gaynor. In these pages, red and black are the

primary colors. The only light source in the room comes from

her computer, creating sharp, black shadows on and around her,

as she stands in only her underwear. In contrast, the bright

red of blood is eye-catching, as she murmurs that “there’s always

blood[,] someone’s blood” (1.17). More importantly, the jet

black shadows in sharp lines, equal-sized grid panels,

monologues that reflect her darkness, such as her fantasy of

dying as a superhero, and sensual art that focuses on her

sexuality (not as obviously as her action scenes as The Whip,

but more subtly, through close-ups of her full, red lips), recall

the noir-inspired creative style of Frank Miller in works such

as Sin City, which even has an installment titled Sex and Violence

75

(fig. 4-2, 4-3).

Similarly, violence,

sex, and the darkness

that comes with them

are central traits of

The Whip, and with no

mission to focus on,

she is flat and

replaceable. Though

she tries to become

a true superhero, she

is destined to fail,

just as the dark,

unoriginal

superheroes, whose

main

characteristics are

usually either

violence, darkness, or both, that followed immediately after

Watchmen or The Dark Knight Returns did not always succeed.

The Sheeda: Destroyer of Worlds

The villains of the series, the Sheeda, too, function as

a comment on importance of temporality in superhero comics:

Figure 4-2

Figure 4-3

76

both the extreme revisionism that destroys tradition and respect

for past works. The Sheeda are not alien species existing outside

Earth, but instead, they are human races from the future, about

a billion years from the present. Their civilization was in

ruins until they discover time traveling, which they use to

travel back to when civilizations on Earth flourishes to its

highest moments. In this way they may devour those earlier

cultures and people to ensure the group of seven soldiers from

the prophecy do not rise to threaten the Sheeda into extinction.

Another reason is to enslave people to destroy more civilizations

in the future, as well as breed, so that the Sheeda can continue

their progeny. Klarion and the people of Limbo Town are an example

of interbreeding the Sheeda has left behind.

Among the Sheeda is Neh-Buh-Loh, who serves as the huntsman

to the Sheeda Queen, Gloriana Tenebrae. Unlike the race of Sheeda

and their queen, Neh-Buh-Loh is not Morrison’s own creation,

though like the Seven Soldiers, he has added his own spice into

the character, and updated him to fit the needs of present comics.

Neh-Buh-Loh first appeared in Justice League of America #100

(1972) as the Nebula Man, responsible for scattering the original

Seven Soldiers throughout time. Morrison adapts this storyline

and characters into his work, by bringing the Vigilante, one

of the members thrown through time, into the narrative, and

explaining how Neh-Buh-Loh, or the Nebula Man, was already

looking for the team of seven for his Queen.

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Here, in his Seven Soldiers, Morrison revives the Nebula

Man and creates the Sheeda, in order to craft an allegory of

extreme comics revisionism destroying past and traditional

Golden and Silver Age values and superheroes. The Nebula Man

is part of the future human race, which has no regard for the

past or tradition, threatening to arrive any time to endanger

the present superhero universes. He had already attempted to

exterminate the original Seven Soldiers, a team created during

the Golden Age. Thus, the actions of the Nebula Man and the

Sheeda represent the destructiveness of extreme revisionism

seen in works like Watchmen and The Dark Knight. They devour

flourishing cultures, just as revisionist works have fed on

the genre, and survivors must pick themselves up in a completely

different state, never able to return to how they were, before

the attack. Therefore, in order to save present superhero comics

and their universe, Morison brings back old characters to fight

against the extreme revisionism and destruction of tradition

represented by the Sheeda.

The Final Victory

Finally, in Seven Soldiers of Victory: Part One, Morrison’s

commentary concludes with the brief story of one of the Seven

Unknown Men, included between the final battle of the Seven

Soldiers and the Sheeda. The Unknown Men, as I have mentioned

previously, represents Morrison, the comics creator, who

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resides in a dimension above the comics pages, and has control

over what happens within them. One of these Men, whom I will

refer to as Morrison, stated that the superhero comics universe

is a “work of too many hands to ever fit properly” (4.210).

Because of the extensive seriality of superhero comics under

countless creators, writers, artists, and editors, the

fictional world is like “a miser’s coat” (4.210) where pieces

of mismatched cloth are sewn together. That is why the superhero

universe needs people like the Unknown Men, who “patch and . . .

sew” to “make sure the fabric of [the fictional] universe is

kept in good repair” (3).

Zachary Zor is the eighth of the Seven, the one who has

gone rogue, and tried to disrupt the order of the universes

by creating the Sheeda. Further developing an analysis of the

meta-commentary in Morrison’s Seven Soldiers, fans have

speculated about the possibility of Zor representing Alan Moore

(see Barbelith), for not only do their names rhyme, but Zor,

in Zatanna, gloats about his “magnificent beard” (3), a famous

physical trait of Moore. This speculation accords with my

interpretation, considering how the Sheeda, which is Zor’s

creation, constitute part of an allegory of extreme revisionism,

for which Moore is partially responsible through his Watchmen.

In Part One, Morrison takes back Zor’s top hat, a powerful

symbolic item for magicians. By taking the hat back, the Unknown

Men with their respect for the past will take over the stage

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of superhero comics now, instead of Moore, whose existence and

influence had dominated the comics industry with his immense

popularity. Morrison then tells Zor how the Unknown Men, as

well as the whole universe, “played out [Zor’s] nasty little

game” (4.210) where the future of the comics world in Seven

Soldiers and the superhero comics world more generally is

threatened by

the extinction

of history and

engulfing it

with utter

darkness. Now

with the top

hat and power

back in his

hands,

Morrison

proceeds to

trap Zor in a completely black void (fig. 4-4), which suggests

the darkness of post-Watchmen superhero comics. As if to reject

the hopelessness of the Dark Age comics, Morrison informs Zor

at the last moment that the characters “all live happily ever

after” (4.210). Indeed, as Morrison promises, in the final page

of epilogue and the whole series, Mister Miracle, who appeared

to have died while playing his part to save the universe, bursts

Figure 4-4

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out of his grave as if to signify the revival of superhero comics.

With disrespectful revisionism put in its place, superhero

comics and its universe is able to go back to expanding its

seriality with hope for the future.

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Conclusion

Alan Moore’s Watchmen and Frank Miller’s The Dark Knight

Returns were two works that pushed superhero comics that

audiences felt were outdated in a new direction, towards values

and styles more suited to contemporary society. Yet, such

innovation came with the expense of past works and traditions,

with their idealistic superheroes that represented hopefulness

and where victory was always with the good. Furthermore, Watchmen

and The Dark Knight Returns were so successful in their revisions

of the image of superheroes, that subsequent superhero comics

followed their example by turning superheroes gritty in

narratives full of violence, where the lines between good and

evil were blurred.

While such comics were popular at first, and attracted

older audiences, some creators felt a decline in creativity

within the superhero genre, for the darkness that enveloped

the superhero comics industry had limited the variety in

characters and narratives. It was around then that Kurt Busiek

and Mark Waid announced their Marvels and Kingdom Come, both

drawn and painted by Alex Ross, which attempted to bring back

the neglected Golden and Silver Age values of superheroes.

Through these works, the creators and artist expressed their

fears about the destruction of superhero comics under the new

wave of dark heroes, and pleaded with readers to remember the

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days where superheroes brought happiness to their fans instead

of fear and insecurity. Marvels and Kingdom Come turned out

successful in their mission, for they brought recognition to

new target audiences, creating the nostalgia market. With recent

DC Comics’s relaunch of their universe and series, retelling

origins of fans’ favorite heroes, or constant remakes of past

works, the sense of nostalgia still remains in the industry,

even today.

What these two trends show, and fans, as well as critics

tend to point out, is that superhero comics were heading in

opposite directions. On one hand, superhero comics were leaving

their histories behind to create something completely new, while

on the other hand, recent comics seem to criticize the innovative

works’ approach in revising superheroes. While these readings

of works and comics trends are not mistaken, they are, however,

extreme. As T. S. Eliot argues in “The Tradition of the Individual

Talent,” a successful poet (or comics creator in this case)

must recognize the works of their predecessors, and fuse the

past with the contemporary writings. The uniqueness of the

superhero genre comes from their long archive of serial

storytelling, where each of the past comics builds on and adds

to the history that is already there, creating the superhero

image of the present. Therefore, traditions and history from

past works cannot be completely cut off in creating something

new. This applies not only to dark works influences by Moore

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and Miller, but also nostalgic works that may seem to reject

them, and as Eliot says, the past and present must come together.

Marvels, for example, though at a glance may be absolutely

nostalgic does in fact follow Eliot’s argument that it recognizes

what revisionist works had introduced into the genre, and

expresses a successful future for the dark heroes with an

appearance young Danny Ketch, who will later become the Ghost

Rider.

Following Eliot’s views on tradition and innovation

reveals interesting readings of Grant Morrison’s Seven Soldiers

of Victory. Seven Soldiers not only rejects conservative

traditions in such areas as race and gender, along with superhero

clichés, but also introduces a new narrative structure and

reading style to superhero comics. Morrison in his chapters

explicitly tells readers that with the series, he hopes to update

superheroes, for they must constantly change to fit present

society. In this way, Seven Soldiers thematizes revisions and

innovations, going fiercely against being kept behind in time.

However, Morrison does not completely dismiss superhero comics

history, but rather, seems wary against extreme revisionism

in the likes of Moore and Miller. He willingly brings in

decades-old characters to save the universe from an unknown

threat from the future, creating an allegory of revisionist

works trying to destroy tradition. With Seven Soldiers, Morrison

comments that superhero comics must constantly be renewed to

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keep up with their readers, but always keeping some engagement

with the past, which created the materials creators have to

work on, and fans to enjoy.

Works such as Kingdom Come, Marvels, and Seven Soldiers

also brought to superhero comics a new direction of

self-reflexivity. Many superhero comics have already been to

some degree meta-fictional, where works themselves reflect on

the medium of comics, but recent works do not consider only

the medium but also the genre: they study the superhero genre

and industry, becoming superhero comics about superhero comics.

This is mainly because superhero comics have, with time, built

their archive with seemingly endless continuity. When

superheroes were still young, creators were only able to develop

it, but now, with decades of publications, they are in a position

to critically analyze the works of the past, and turn them into

materials for new comics.

Rather than rejecting past conventions, characters, and

universes, superhero comics today are developing increasingly

complex revisions with a growing tendency to comment on the

superhero genre and its own history. For instance, Morrison

is currently writing Multiversity for DC Comics, a series that

focuses on the many parallel Earths of the DC Universe, rather

than the main one. With Multiversity, Morrison reexamines the

continuity of superhero comics as a whole. His series considers

the DC Universe before the reboot in 2011, commenting on certain

85

events, as well as the comics universes of other publishers,

such as Marvel, through parodied Earths. Because it is still

in progress, it is impossible to say where this highly

self-reflexive new series will take readers as it pursues new

narrative and visual possibilities, but it shows that Morrison’s

work merits further study in the future.

Superhero comics, therefore, after decades of changes

in art and narrative styles, are still evolving. Time and

innovative writers and artists have introduced into the comics

medium new styles and structures that were unheard of in the

past. Yet, as Eliot’s argument as well as my analysis on

innovative and nostalgic writers reveal, the past, while it

should not be the only factor to follow, must not be hastily

thrown aside. Rather, both tradition and innovation shall be

valued, and infused together to create powerful new works. The

self-reflexive comics that have appeared recent years is doing

exactly this, as archives of superhero comics are analyzed in

relation to how they have been influencing currently running

series.

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Notes

1 In my thesis, I will follow Scott McCloud’s example of

defining “comics” as a medium. The term will be “Plural in form,

used with a singular verb” (McCloud 9). Within the medium of

comics, graphic novels, while the term is not strictly defined,

are books with comics content. Alternative comics are comic

books with contents other than the mainstream superheroes.

Finally, comic books will signify comics periodicals.

2 That is, until the recent DC universe’s relaunch in 2011,

where Barbara is up and moving again as Batgirl.

3 Neal Adams and Dennis O’Neil in the 1970s had already

started Batman’s evolution into a gothic hero, but the darkness

is not as notable as Miller’s.

4 Though later appearances of Sir Justin (or Ystin) in

series Demon Knights (2011-13), claims that the character is

neither a “man or woman” but “both” (Demon Knights Volume 3)

and prefers male pronouns, his gender identification in Seven

Soldiers is unclear. However, because readers see Justina in

a skirt, and learn that she will be known in the future as Queen

Ystina the Good, in the last few pages of Seven Soldiers #1,

I will refer to Sir Justin as “she” while she is Justina, and

when the character appears as Sir Justin/Shining Knight, I will

refer to him as a “he.”

5 There are no page numbers for Seven Soldiers of Victory:

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Volume Three.

88

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