Grant Morrison’s Supergods... and my Superman
Last week I finished Grant Morrison’s Supergods (Guardian.co.uk review here), a non-fiction look at how the evolution of the superhero in popular culture mirrors Western society’s own concerns and aspirations. For example, the optimistic Kennedy/Space Race Era of the mid 1950s/early 60s produced clean-cut, conservative, “science” heroes like the Silver Age Flash and Green Lantern, who later were seen as authoritarian squares.
Supergods is the acclaimed comic writer’s highly personal look at superhero history, peppered with analyses of iconic comics, and mixed with chunks of Morrison’s own biography and experiences within the comics industry.
Honestly, the book could have done with less of Morrison’s dabbling in mind-altering drugs, the occult and weird adventures in extra-planar enlightenment – particularly in the later chapters – but there are enough fascinating insights to make a read of Supergods worthwhile for superhero lovers. Even if the book has the potential to make a potent drinking game: every time Morrison uses the world “psychedelic” or “surreal” you take a shot.
Anyway, if Morrison can chronicle his life-changing comic reading experiences, well, so can I. This may develop into a series of posts, but I’ll start off with one of the single issue superhero comics that had a lasting impact on me.
When I made the leap from Beano and Dandy annuals – as well as Richie Rich, Casper and all the other fluff titles of Harvey Comics – to superheroes it was during a period that Morrison classifies as the Dark Ages. Others have called it the Bronze Age, and, after 1985, the Modern Age, but put more simply, this was the time, from 1970 onwards, that comics became more “real”, more “serious,” more “socially conscious,” reflecting the social turmoil of the 70s and 80s. Most famously, this was the time when Green Arrow’s sidekick Speedy was found to have a heroin addiction, and Green Lantern was called out on his inability to fight for racial equality on Earth. Crime, death and darkness were the order of the day as the straight-jacketed morality of the Comics Code Authority began to loosen.
I got into superhero comics circa 1989-1990, as the Bronze Age was still transitioning into the Modern Age. The social commentary and “realism” of the prior era remained though, and, if anything, mainstream British and American comics tended towards even more mature-minded complexity and graphicness (Alan Moore, Frank Miller and Neil Gaiman were some of the most famous names during this period).
I used to get my comics from second-hand bookstores at something like 20 cents an issue. And as a result a good portion of “far-fetched” pre-Crisis on Infinite Earths material made it into my collection. Including the Superman story arc “A Mind-Switch in Time,” where the Man of Steel and Superboy collide while time-travelling and end up swapping bodies.
Apart from superhero books, the first proper non-kiddie comics I got my paws on were old controversial EC horror titles like Tales From the Crypt and rival The Twilight Zone. I probably shouldn’t have been reading these comics given I wasn’t even 10 at the time, but they no doubt played a large part in shaping my preference – to this day – for the (pulpy) supernatural in my comics over aliens and sci-fi.
And that’s where Superman Vol 2 #15 (March 1988) comes in. Entitled Wings, the comic remains one of my most well-remembered reads – largely because it’s dark and creepy and tackles some pretty adult issues. More importantly, I present it as proof that Superman books can be about more than putting down the schemes of megalomaniac Lex Luthor, Brainiac and various other colourful “sci-fi” foes.
Written and pencilled by John Byrne (who was responsible for the 1986 Superman reboot), Wings features the debut appearance of supernatural villain, Skyhook who, to my knowledge, has popped up in DC comics maybe 3 times ever. He may not be an especially complex character, but I believe he’s been unfairly forgotten. Introduced as a faceless, cloaked, scaly being in Wings, Skyhook lurks around in a desecrated Metropolis church, luring child runaways to his lair and mutating them, via Alien-like cocoons, into an army of winged thieves.
For the record, you don’t get his back-story in Wings but apparently Skyhook is a Victorian Era child murderer-turned-demon. Basically a pitch-black, occult-powered Fagin.
In Wings, Skyhook’s attempts to avoid Superman are ruined when he “recruits” Jamie Sawyer... the young daughter of police captain Maggie Sawyer. Naturally the Man of Steel is happy to help his ally – who is to Superman what Commissioner Gordon is to Batman, essentially. However, in the process of rescuing Jamie, Maggie’s backstory is brought to the fore. And here’s the rub: Maggie Sawyer is a lesbian.
In Wings we learn that Maggie was once married to a male cop in Star City, had plenty of hetero sex (surprisingly we even get a panel of this) and produced a daughter shortly before coming to terms with her long-suppressed sexuality. Of course, Maggie’s lifestyle cost her custody of her baby during the divorce, and she fled across the country to Metropolis. Which is exactly where her daughter runs years later to meet her mom.
Now admittedly Maggie Sawyer’s lesbianism is restricted to a chaste hug from her girlfriend – who could pass as a BFF if it wasn’t for her use of “Babe” as a term of endearment. And admittedly Superman is stopped just short of using the G- or L-word. However, I have to wonder if this type of discussion would even feature in a mainstream American comic today? Given events in the US right now, would we see Big Blue pondering how wrong and unprogressive it is to deprive gays of their parental rights?
Admittedly, on first reading Wings, its homosexual content went right over my head. But with its depiction of sex (OK, foreplay), divorce and the nightmarish nature of its villain, the comic is unusually dark, impression-leaving stuff for Superman.
For the record, Skyhook does get his comeuppance (kind of) in the end. He takes several bullets tothe chest from Maggie during a high-flying escape between Metropolis’s skyscrapers – and plummets into the harbour. Meanwhile, Jamie’s father agrees to reconsider the custody arrangement.
P.S. Here's an amusing ad page from the same comic that may bring back warm fuzzy memories for older comic readers out there. Oh, the priorities of tweens, teens and delinquent dropouts of the 1980s.
Supergods is the acclaimed comic writer’s highly personal look at superhero history, peppered with analyses of iconic comics, and mixed with chunks of Morrison’s own biography and experiences within the comics industry.
Honestly, the book could have done with less of Morrison’s dabbling in mind-altering drugs, the occult and weird adventures in extra-planar enlightenment – particularly in the later chapters – but there are enough fascinating insights to make a read of Supergods worthwhile for superhero lovers. Even if the book has the potential to make a potent drinking game: every time Morrison uses the world “psychedelic” or “surreal” you take a shot.
Anyway, if Morrison can chronicle his life-changing comic reading experiences, well, so can I. This may develop into a series of posts, but I’ll start off with one of the single issue superhero comics that had a lasting impact on me.
When I made the leap from Beano and Dandy annuals – as well as Richie Rich, Casper and all the other fluff titles of Harvey Comics – to superheroes it was during a period that Morrison classifies as the Dark Ages. Others have called it the Bronze Age, and, after 1985, the Modern Age, but put more simply, this was the time, from 1970 onwards, that comics became more “real”, more “serious,” more “socially conscious,” reflecting the social turmoil of the 70s and 80s. Most famously, this was the time when Green Arrow’s sidekick Speedy was found to have a heroin addiction, and Green Lantern was called out on his inability to fight for racial equality on Earth. Crime, death and darkness were the order of the day as the straight-jacketed morality of the Comics Code Authority began to loosen.
I got into superhero comics circa 1989-1990, as the Bronze Age was still transitioning into the Modern Age. The social commentary and “realism” of the prior era remained though, and, if anything, mainstream British and American comics tended towards even more mature-minded complexity and graphicness (Alan Moore, Frank Miller and Neil Gaiman were some of the most famous names during this period).
I used to get my comics from second-hand bookstores at something like 20 cents an issue. And as a result a good portion of “far-fetched” pre-Crisis on Infinite Earths material made it into my collection. Including the Superman story arc “A Mind-Switch in Time,” where the Man of Steel and Superboy collide while time-travelling and end up swapping bodies.
Apart from superhero books, the first proper non-kiddie comics I got my paws on were old controversial EC horror titles like Tales From the Crypt and rival The Twilight Zone. I probably shouldn’t have been reading these comics given I wasn’t even 10 at the time, but they no doubt played a large part in shaping my preference – to this day – for the (pulpy) supernatural in my comics over aliens and sci-fi.
And that’s where Superman Vol 2 #15 (March 1988) comes in. Entitled Wings, the comic remains one of my most well-remembered reads – largely because it’s dark and creepy and tackles some pretty adult issues. More importantly, I present it as proof that Superman books can be about more than putting down the schemes of megalomaniac Lex Luthor, Brainiac and various other colourful “sci-fi” foes.
Written and pencilled by John Byrne (who was responsible for the 1986 Superman reboot), Wings features the debut appearance of supernatural villain, Skyhook who, to my knowledge, has popped up in DC comics maybe 3 times ever. He may not be an especially complex character, but I believe he’s been unfairly forgotten. Introduced as a faceless, cloaked, scaly being in Wings, Skyhook lurks around in a desecrated Metropolis church, luring child runaways to his lair and mutating them, via Alien-like cocoons, into an army of winged thieves.
For the record, you don’t get his back-story in Wings but apparently Skyhook is a Victorian Era child murderer-turned-demon. Basically a pitch-black, occult-powered Fagin.
In Wings, Skyhook’s attempts to avoid Superman are ruined when he “recruits” Jamie Sawyer... the young daughter of police captain Maggie Sawyer. Naturally the Man of Steel is happy to help his ally – who is to Superman what Commissioner Gordon is to Batman, essentially. However, in the process of rescuing Jamie, Maggie’s backstory is brought to the fore. And here’s the rub: Maggie Sawyer is a lesbian.
In Wings we learn that Maggie was once married to a male cop in Star City, had plenty of hetero sex (surprisingly we even get a panel of this) and produced a daughter shortly before coming to terms with her long-suppressed sexuality. Of course, Maggie’s lifestyle cost her custody of her baby during the divorce, and she fled across the country to Metropolis. Which is exactly where her daughter runs years later to meet her mom.
Now admittedly Maggie Sawyer’s lesbianism is restricted to a chaste hug from her girlfriend – who could pass as a BFF if it wasn’t for her use of “Babe” as a term of endearment. And admittedly Superman is stopped just short of using the G- or L-word. However, I have to wonder if this type of discussion would even feature in a mainstream American comic today? Given events in the US right now, would we see Big Blue pondering how wrong and unprogressive it is to deprive gays of their parental rights?
Admittedly, on first reading Wings, its homosexual content went right over my head. But with its depiction of sex (OK, foreplay), divorce and the nightmarish nature of its villain, the comic is unusually dark, impression-leaving stuff for Superman.
For the record, Skyhook does get his comeuppance (kind of) in the end. He takes several bullets tothe chest from Maggie during a high-flying escape between Metropolis’s skyscrapers – and plummets into the harbour. Meanwhile, Jamie’s father agrees to reconsider the custody arrangement.
P.S. Here's an amusing ad page from the same comic that may bring back warm fuzzy memories for older comic readers out there. Oh, the priorities of tweens, teens and delinquent dropouts of the 1980s.
Comments
And yeah, the early John Byrne Superman issues were pretty cool!