Who is the New Geoff Johns?

With DC Comics Chief Creative Officer Geoff Johns stepping away from comics to fulfill a more comprehensive role for DC Entertainment’s film and television franchises, the role of ‘World Builder’ for the Rebirth universe – DC’s soft-relaunched ‘classic’ universe that kicked off last June – has gone largely unfilled. While it’s true that Johns himself designed Rebirth and the mysteries surrounding the multiversal crisis, he’s yet to write a book since it began. Even the first major crossover event, Justice League vs. Suicide Squad, was handled by The Flash writer Joshua Williamson.

Generally speaking, things have been going well – many titles are enjoying an uptick in sales, some due to a twice-monthly publishing schedule, and the DC Universe feels like it once did as creators bring more and more elements from the past to the present. There’s incredible talent at DC, and it’s to the publisher’s credit that there are so many different voices contributing to Rebirth’s impressive output thus far. That said, this initiative has felt like a ship without a captain onboard, a huge new sandbox filled with awesome toys and no adult supervision.

Rebirth is great in no small part to the engenderment of nostalgia; familiar names that seemed alien or mischaracterized during the ‘New 52’ suddenly felt right again, like DC finally grasped what made these characters work and just let it happen instead of trying to control every single detail. Unfortunately, the high quality of individual Rebirth series belies the absent cohesion, mainly the aforementioned playground metaphor concerning the lack of a ‘brand leader’ to direct the general flow of DC shared universe narrative.

I’m not advocating for a World Builder in the way Johns was or Grant Morrison before him – mainly, there needs to be at least one or two creators whose titles affect other titles outside crossover issues or events, a writer helming a book that speaks to the wider DC shared superhero universe while also telling a cogent story. Marvel’s toyed around the concept over the decades, most recently with Brian Michael Bendis then Jonathan Hickman before the directionless-ness the House of Ideas is currently experiencing (although an argument could also be made for Al Ewing or Nick Spencer at the time of this writing.)

There are a few good options for ‘universal affecter’. Joshua Williamson is killing it on Flash and wrote an exciting, interesting crossover event that didn’t get too big or cave in on its own conceit. Scott Snyder is arguably DC’s most well-known creator, but he’s almost too comfortable in the Batman corner to effectively impact much outside Gotham’s shadow. Dan Abnett writes Aquaman and Titans, Peter J. Tomasi has Superman and Super Sons, Ben Percy is on Teen Titans and Green Arrow – any of these three would be a good choice. But honestly, it comes down to the Justice League, and I don’t say that lightly.

In the 1990s, Grant Morrison wrote JLA and directed the course of DC Comics for years. He followed that up with a giant multiversal saga that spanned three events and a new Superman origin story over a decade (Seven Soldiers of Victory, Final Crisis, Action Comics: Superman at the End of Days, The Multiversity). Similarly, Johns held the reins at DC with Justice League throughout the five years of the ‘New 52’, even going so far as to blatantly ignore the status quo to finish “The Darkseid War”. For the DCYou initiative (the death throes of the ‘New 52’ that started in Spring 2015), Bryan Hitch was also given the freedom to ignore continuity for Justice League of America (an expressed ‘side story’) before he scored the Rebirth volume of the Justice League eponymous title to all-around negative reception because it’s terrible.

A certain level of authority comes with writing the Justice League, the power to change the direction of any one of these incredibly important characters. Whether it’s the effects of a battle or the development of interpersonal relationships, what happens in the League is significant across DC titles and always has been.

With all this said, the clear decision for the ‘New Geoff Johns’ is Steve Orlando.

Orlando began his career at DC Comics with Midnighter during the DCYou initiative, celebrated for its engaging and well-characterized take on StormWatch’s resident badass as well as his tactful representation of Midnighter’s sexuality. He then scripted issues of Batman and Robin Eternal and wrote the Justice League – The Darkseid War: Shazam! one-shot. For Rebirth, Orlando hit the ground running with Midnighter and Apollo (the sequel series to Midnighter) and Supergirl, then co-wrote “Night of the Monster Men” with Tom King through Batman, Nightwing, and Detective Comics in October 2016. What seals the deal for Orlando as ‘DC Showrunner’ is his most recent project: Justice League of America.

** SPOILERS FOR JUSTICE LEAGUE vs. SUICIDE SQUAD AHEAD! **

Justice League vs. Suicide Squad changed how ordinary citizens see superheroes after Maxwell Lord uses his Eclipso powers to possess the League (except Batman) and turns them into soldiers to take control of the entire planet in less than fifteen minutes. More often than not the ends don’t justify the means, and no manner of excuse can shake the distrust and fear ordinary civilians begin to feel in the wake of their protectors turning on them. With Hitch’s Justice League floundering out of the gate, Orlando’s quirky JLA roster is the superhero team we need, and also the one we totally deserve after having to read “The Extinction Machine” (Justice League #1-5.) Batman understands that powerless need to feel empowered, that living in a world with gods watching over them doesn’t mean they can’t themselves be heroes. This is the reason for Bruce’s Justice League of America, a purposely named team with purposely chosen individuals to carry out a purposely designed mission statement.

Mari McCabe (Vixen) brings a level of celebrity to the team, a model and animal activist turned heroine whose take-no-crap attitude is necessary to keep conflicting personalities in line and ready to act. Ryan Choi takes up the mantle of the Atom when Ray Palmer goes missing in the Microverse and Batman comes knocking with an offer to be in the…a Justice League. After she saves the world in JL vs. SS, all Caitlin Snow (Killer Frost) wants is a chance for redemption, so that’s what Batman offers; he secures her release from the Suicide Squad and vouches for her membership. Ray Terrill (The Ray) thought he was allergic to light and lived inside until he couldn’t take it anymore and discovered he was living light – after four years of learning how to become and manipulate light, Ray’s first instinct is to help those in need with his abilities. Dinah Drake (Black Canary) is there to keep the team in check and be the moral center that stays their hand when it harms instead of helps, a role Batman insists any team needs. And then there’s Lobo, a galactic bounty hunter who would probably love Donald Trump, can’t die, and happens to owe Batman a debt.

Each of these individuals brings something different to the table in terms of power sets, personalities, and culture. Orlando recognizes the necessity for relatable characters with diverse backgrounds working together for the greater good, less manifest destiny like the world’s most powerful heroes banding together as planetary defense force and more a collective of people with powers trying to be better. And this is exactly why Orlando’s writing is engaging – he tells stories about heroes striving to improve themselves and find closure in a world where the impossible happens every day. All of Orlando’s work exhibits this theme on some level, and it’s the tone DC needs right now even as it enjoys the financial success of Rebirth, et al.

Allowing Orlando to bring his cunning, organic, character-driven style to Justice League of America shows DC has faith in the man’s ability. The astonishing lead-up to the series included four character-specific one-shot Rebirth issues – Vixen, The Ray, Killer Frost, The Atom – and a collective Justice League of America: Rebirth one-shot all before the first proper #1 issue; this points to DC’s investment in Orlando and this series in general.

With DC Entertainment’s film universe in flux and Bryan Hitch’s Justice League in the toilet, Justice League of America is poised as the publisher’s new flagship title that reflects a more comprehensive theme for Rebirth moving forward, one that focuses on characters and finds common ground through relatable situations.

Geoff Johns did an admirable job directing the ‘New 52’ despite its many and varied flaws. His parting gift to DC Comics was the Rebirth initiative that fused the old with the new by bringing elements from the classic DC universe into the standardized ‘New 52’ timeline, a move that could have been disastrous but as proven to be exactly what the company needed. This healthy balance of new ideas and tradition is a perfect landscape for Steve Orlando to helm a new era of DC Comics that values diversity and inclusion and honors the past while working for a better future.

We Are Gotham: Tom King's Batman, "I Am Gotham"

As Batman #6 hits stands today, I took a look at Tom King's first full arc on DC's Batman, a series that garnered huge critical and commercial success under Scott Snyder's hand over the past five years. Now, King has the opportunity to apply his unique brand of narrative aesthetic to the Dark Knight of Gotham City.

Tom King is a superstar and he’s only seriously been in the game for 26 months. Grayson, The Omega Men, The Vision, and Sheriff of Babylon all led to DC’s confidence in the man they gave Batman. King’s operatic style lends itself to the Dark Knight, ironically juxtaposed to Scott Snyder’s more visceral run during the ‘New 52’. King’s Batman and Batman both bear a subtler tone emphasizing ethical dilemma and conflicting morality. In this first arc, “I Am Gotham”, Batman wants so badly to believe new superhumans Gotham and Gotham Girl represent everything he can’t be, everything he wishes he could be that he missteps and makes crucial mistakes. These siblings are a symbol of what Bruce hopes the future can become, and he doesn’t really know what to do.

Batman’s perfectionism works as a mentoring tool when recipients already possesses confidence in themselves; Superman knows where he stands and thus applies Batman’s logic to his own circumstance without going full-on Dark Man of Steel of the Night. Similarly, Batman’s various allies survive Bruce’s nigh-impossible training regimen because they’ve dedicated themselves to the cause and have the drive to maintain their own selves through the process. Hank and Claire Clover are fledgling heroes still discovering themselves and their powers while trying to earn Batman’s trust and protect their city; cognitive dissonance is real and only exacerbated by the presence of superpowers and stranger-than-fiction happenstance. It’s no wonder Gotham goes insane.

And this is the entire conceit of “I Am Gotham”, insight on the relationship between good and evil and what it means to be part of something bigger than yourself. To Batman, that means sacrificing desire, emotion, and sympathy to become better. To Gotham Girl, that means following her big brother who she knows is benevolent and well-meaning because they made a pact. For Gotham, it means sacrificing his soul to fix what it broken because there’s no other way.

Batman #3 brings this theme to the forefront with the origin of Gotham that bears a striking resemblance to Batman’s own – and he knows it. As Matches Malone (a fantastic return of Bruce’s scummy alter-ego), Bruce interviews the Mr. and Mrs. Clover and learns about their children’s commitment to doing good and helping those less fortunate, and as much as they don’t know how, they do know their kids are superheroes now. Henry Clover’s description of Gotham City finds hope in the darkness and sees light between shadowy dealings, not unlike Bruce’s own father. It’s this sympathy that compels Batman to want to believe in Gotham and Gotham Girl because he sees in them what could have been and lets his emotions guide his actions.

In the first few chapters, David Finch’s hyper-detailed DC house style feels at-odds with King’s more elegant and nuanced script, but as the story continues it becomes clear that Finch was purposely chosen for his style to accentuate the corrosion of good. Hank’s purpose-driven life is to see Gotham City lifted up from the putrid darkness and rise to glory. When he discovers that even with seemingly unlimited power he cannot be the savior Gotham City needs, Hank’s world shatters and no one can pick up the pieces. Batman inspired a young Hank to be a better person, but he also inspired tunnel-vision dedication to an impossible task that breaks a young man’s mind. And a god proven wrong can be disastrous.

Claire wasn’t there when Hank and their parents were mugged, so her connection to the mission is tangential; she can see the cracks forming in her brother’s psyche, but she doesn’t really know any other way besides her faith in Hank. Trauma inspired Hank which inspired Claire, yet when Gotham’s existential dread becomes overwhelming, she can’t empathize, confused by her brother’s erratic actions. Hank’s own breakdown indirectly breaks his sister, and the whole thing falls apart.

Batman doesn’t really overwhelm or over-burden these young heroes; he simply presents them with the reality of their cause, the truth of their dedication to a city that will not be tamed or made calm. In recent years, Gotham City has been slowly molded into a sort-of tertiary character in the DC universe in the way the European countryside and ruined cityscapes becomes integral to World War II films. Hank and Claire spent so much time looking for the good in their city they failed to expose themselves to the bad, and when it becomes clear the darkness has no end, Hank loses his faith.

True evil is often committed by those who believe they are right and altruistic, by individuals jaded enough by the world to believe the ends justify their horrific means. “I Am Gotham” extrapolates this classic trope to give Hank Clover more clarity as a character: this isn’t just another looney, brightly-themed villain, but rather a set of distinct and unwavering ethics distilled into a relatable hero who falls from grace. Gotham is all of us because the weight of our own lives is sometimes too much, so how could we ever hope to carry an entire city? Even in a fantastical, mystical, hyper-advanced world of heroes and villains and aliens and monsters, nihilism is one hell of a drug.

The Duality of Khalid Nassour, Doctor Fate

Doctor Fate isn’t a game-changing, must-read monthly title (like DC positions a number of its ongoings), the name ‘Doctor Fate’ isn’t incredibly well-known, and the boy under the helmet is all-new character Khalid Nassour. All that said, Doctor Fate is a fun series that presents the superhero paradigm in a refreshing way. Last spring’s DCYou initiative aimed to rebrand or re-haul existing IPs to promote diversity, innovation, and experimentation – Superman was de-powered and put back in his jeans and t-shirt, Jim Gordon donned the cowl when Batman died fighting the Joker, Hal Jordan went on the run from the Green Lantern Corps, while Wonder Woman sported updated armor and new villain Donna Troy. Aside from re-working major heroes, DC also looked at lesser-known characters, which is how this new volume of Doctor Fate came to be.

** General spoilers for Doctor Fate follow **

While others found themselves frustrated with early issues, I see Paul Levitz and Sonny Liew’s take on this classic franchise as a welcome breath of fresh air in a modern superhero aesthetic that often promotes story over character development (see most of Scott Lobdell’s post-2010 DC work), which makes it all the more disappointing that the series is set to end next month with Doctor Fate #16 (UPDATE: Doctor Fate #17 is out in October and is not solicited as the final issue). Levitz’s heavy decompression through this series is both to its credit and detriment; on a month-to-month basis Doctor Fate feels long in the tooth, like Levitz is searching for a definitive direction through Khalid’s own crippling indecision and self-doubt. Without considering who Khalid Nassour is as a person, reading an ongoing series that takes at least ten issues for the protagonist to get onboard with the whole ‘hero thing’ can be mildly annoying at best and unacceptably boring at worst.

Khalid doesn’t know what he wants – Levitz and Liew have made that very clear throughout these fifteen issues – and his journey reflects this indecisiveness. Here, Khalid has a life plan that doesn’t necessarily meld with his new status as Doctor Fate. University is an investment, and Khalid’s academic track means his classes are all the more important for eventually enrolling in med school. He also feels compelled to learn the mystical arts and grow into the hero he is supposed to be, to take what’s been given to him and rise to the occasion even though he resists the pull of Fate at nearly every turn, juxtaposing his earnest desire to help people.

In effect, Khalid wants to graduate from university, have a meaningful relationship with his beautiful girlfriend, honor his parents and their sacrifices, and use the power he’s been gifted as Doctor Fate to be a superhero and help save the world – Khalid wants everything to go as planned even though he believes it will all fall apart. In his overly-analytical mind (a plus for a future doctor), Khalid shouldn’t possibly be able to stretch himself so thin and thus he can’t; it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy that only begins to wane in later issues of the series when the reality of his situation begins to truly set in, and more noticeably when Khalid’s great-uncle Kent Nelson arrives to share some wisdom.

With the re-introduction of Kent Nelson into the ‘prime’ mythos (after he was absent in the ‘New 52’), Levitz and Liew made Doctor Fate a more integral part of DC’s lineup, a title that goes beyond the purview of “shaking things up” and finds a way to reconcile the present with the past in a purposeful way without rewriting history. Kent comes onto the scene when Khalid is at a crossroads – the young student wants to take responsibility for the power he now wields, but still doesn’t think he can or should even after saving the world once already. Call it emotional dysfunction, self-absorbed egoism, or existential dread – whatever it is, Khalid can’t get over a sense of self-loathing that translates into reserved behavior that only results in more indecision and doubt.

There’s nothing wrong with wanting good things for yourself, and Khalid’s inability to justify his own life goals against his new fate become overwhelming. This seems to be part of Levitz and Liew’s underlying message, that perhaps “fate” isn’t locked in stone the way we typically perceive it to be. In the real world, “fate” and “destiny” are concepts created to explain talent or industriousness or passion – nothing is certain, and to say some things are absolute belies the inherent chaos of the universe we humans try so diligently to force into order. Khalid is no more shackled to the helmet of Fate as I am to my job or my life as it is right now – I can leave and disappear and start all over if I so desire. The effects of my actions are, of course, reliant on how much effort I put into making them a reality, and this is where Khalid struggles. Khalid wants to put all of himself into whatever he does because he doesn’t want to fail, but nothing is that simple and Khalid learns that he almost has to disconnect his two lives and approach each with a different perspective even though they constantly intertwine.

Doctor Fate represents a more realistic approach to the genre in which the protagonist isn’t an archetypal hero and mitigating factors have real consequences because the duality of being a superhero bears difficult costs. Paul Levitz and Sonny Liew’s decompressed narrative style is admirable in turning Khalid Nassour into one of the most relatable and introspective characters in DC’s roster. It’s fun having a pre-Flashpoint Superman back in the mix, and I love the buddy cop take on Green Lanterns, but Doctor Fate has a tenacity and subtlety rarely seen in modern superhero comics, an almost Chekhovian take on what it means to be a hero and the trials it takes to get there. The present makes way for the past to define a new future for Khalid Nassour and Doctor Fate. Here’s hoping DC doesn’t let Khalid disappear into the aether after this series wraps up.

The Flintstones: Crap and Morp

And with a single issue, Powergoat is my favorite new character of 2016.

I don't suspect this weed-eating goat with an aggression complex will appear again anytime soon, but this fun little nugget of humor acts as a stylized metaphor for Mark Russell's observations on American culture. Much like with Prez, Russell digs deep into the socio-economic framework of colonial capitalism and finds the inherent comedy within: it's funny because it's true.

Powergoat is an allegory for aggressive sales tactics and the supposed strength they are trying to sell; it's literally just a goat (albeit, with a hyper-masculine attitude) tied to a stick and Fred has no idea what "weeds" are, but the perception of wealth through material possessions becomes too much, and poor Fred caves in and buys one anyway.

Russell doesn't sugar-coat his intentions in The Flintstones #2. "In other news, people are buying stuff they don't need. It's called 'crap', and it's taking Bedrock by storm!" I cannot think of a more perfect or eloquent way to explain the root of American capitalism.

The First Church of Animism reveres their savior, Morp, until the bird plays a record and everyone is a bit disappointed, at which point their faith wains. The following mass, the clergy introduce Peaches, a pink elephant who's to be the new god that just wants everyone to have a good time, a pretty solid gospel.

When Wilma discovers Peaches is just a vacuum cleaner the clergy have masqueraded as a deity, the whole charade begins to crumble. In a poignant call to reason by the presiding pastor, he asks "...isn't the important thing that the god makes you feel like your life has meaning? Does it really matter what form a god takes?"

Fred's immediate skepticism is a mirror to Evangelical religious dogma: adherence to an idea instead of the ideals religion is intended to teach. "C'mon, we've done good work in this church. Just because some god didn't pan out, you're not going to go back to smashing people with clubs are you?" At least one gentleman disagrees. Everyone walks out.

So, are these the seeds of atheism in The Flintstones, or the earliest days of the religiously devout, the ones who need a more concrete concept of god to feel fulfilled? Either way, Russell plays with the ideas of spirituality and commercialism throughout The Flintstones #2, reaching a fever pitch when Fred feels the familiar sense of failure -- after only selling one bottle of vitamins in a pyramid scheme -- many Americans suffer through every day, the feeling that he's doesn't deserve the good things in his life. As Wilma is apt to do, she helps Fred see reason and gives him perspective on the difference between real and borrowed happiness. She posits that connections with other humans is what matters, and that all this crap around them doesn't bring anything but regret.

I don't believe Wilma simply meant the material "crap" infesting Bedrock, but also the vitamin-selling scam and the Church of Animism shenanigans -- as long as Fred loves Wilma and Wilma loves Fred, they're going to be okay. Everything else is just crap. So long, Powergoat: Lucky the Dog of 2016.

Batman #50 Review: Superheaviest

** SPOILERS, BUT I FEEL LIKE IF YOU'RE READING A REVIEW YOU ALREADY KNOW THAT, RIGHT? **

Let's start with the new costume: less a refresh and more of a polish, right? There's not much to say about an outfit that looks more or less the same just with yellow trim, making Batman...less stealthy? I'm ambivalent towards it even knowing that this is one costume update that will very much stick around. On to the story itself. The tenth and final part of "Superheavy" is stuffed with narrative almost to it's own detriment. ALMOST. Scott Snyder deftly handles three plots that all intertwine, leading to the eventual takedown of Mr. Bloom: Bruce Wayne's return to the cowl, Jim Gordon's final act of heroism as the Dark Knight of Gotham, and Duke Thomas' confrontation with the real Mr. Bloom.

Where other issues may have collapsed under the pressure of so many interlocking narratives, Snyder has a talent for bringing together ideas in the end, only it's often not in the fashion readers expect. That said, "Superheavy" might be Snyder's least oddball ending since his run on Batman began -- though it's steeped in a sci-fi quagmire of cosmic jargon, the return of the original Batman and the final battle with Mr. Bloom play out rather predictably, though the specifics are rather interesting.

No one presumed that Jim Gordon would die at the end of Batman #50, so the constant reminders that Jim needs to get to a hospital before he keels over from his wounds get very old very quick. Sure -- that kind of build-up works in certain situations, but again; no one reading this issue thought Jim was going to actually die, so the whole practice becomes moot. This hollow tension makes Jim's monologue near the issue's end a bit stale and concocted. I know Jim was always waiting for Batman to return, but he didn't need to go all diva and recite the speech he'd obviously been practicing in the mirror for some time.

Batman -- the one and only -- is also a rather divisive narrative line in Batman #50. Last month saw Bruce Wayne stand up and accept who he is and what he means to Gotham City, yet none of that passion and/or drive seems present this month. As soon as Bruce jumps back into the thick of battle, Penny-One delivers some rather clunky exposition instead of Bruce's actions speaking for themselves. As much as I like Greg Capullo's artwork, and as fantastic as he's been for most of this series, Batman #50's fight sequences don't convey the same thrill they once did like in "The Court of Owls" or "Death of the Family". Perhaps it's my own bias coming into play having read every issue Capullo has pencilled for this run, but the whole "Batman is actually better than he was before!" angle works against the emotional nuance this issue could have had.

By transforming Bruce Wayne into a more perfect version of himself, Snyder has inadvertently ripped away part of what makes Batman Batman. Some people wear their scars like badges of honor, and while I don't believe Bruce Wayne sees them as such, he does appreciate that they represent something, and taking away the physical scars but not the mental ones simply means DC basically pulled a Marvel and de-aged Bruce Wayne. The difference, of course, being that Snyder is making it a narrative element, which only makes sense on a very basic level. Seriously -- what does this actually mean for Batman? He was already the most impressive human being on the planet (arguably), with a fascinating blend of a litany of martial arts talent, tactically-honed strategic subterfuge, and alarmingly adaptive mental dexterity. So, he's just more of these things now? That's it? I don't see the point other than Snyder fulfilling some dream to outdo Grant Morrison's colloquially-known "Bat God" by literally making Batman BETTER THAN EVER BEEEFFFFOOOOOORE!

All this said, Batman #50 is still a great issue that makes good use of the elements introduced since the finale of "Endgame". Jim Gordon's supporting cast -- Julia Pennyworth, Daryl, and Gerri Powers -- are all present and accounted for, while Duke Thomas plants himself even more firmly into Snyder's Batman mythos. Bloom himself is not really the point because, as Batman even points out, "anyone could be Bloom..." His or her identity isn't important. Very much like how, as we grow older, we come to recognize that much of what is actually said is of little consequence, and that how our words make others feel is what truly matters in the end. Bloom represents the paranoia and anger borne from tragedy and terror, the loss of hope that comes from watching your family, friends, and home burn again and again and again.

Jim Gordon did not solve the mystery of Mr. Bloom. We will never know if Bruce Wayne could have. But that's not the point. Snyder approached BatJim the same way he did Bruce Wayne; the Batman is for Gotham is for Batman, and so on. To Snyder, the two entities are mutually exclusive, and when Jim takes the mantle of Batman, the city doesn't respond well. Bloom is a metaphorical symptom for the militarization, privatization, and corporatization of the Batman ideals. As good a man as Jim Gordon is, even he cannot stop the gears of industry, finances, politics, and traditions from grinding through the wrench thrown into the machine.

SCORE: 8/10

Seven Comics You Probably Aren't Reading But Should

What? You are reading these comics? Then you don't need to be here -- thanks A LOT! for just scrolling down and ignoring all those pesky words in between the picks! Anyway, below are some pretty amazing suggestions for comics you could read that you might not think would be good and/or something you might be into. 

Starbrand and Nightmask (Marvel Comics)

I won’t go on and on about how I pretty much had this same idea for a comic book series years ago (I did, I promise, and it was so good), but I will say that Greg Weisman and Domo Stanton’s Starbrand and Nightmask is more or less what I had envisioned: two friends attending college and also being superheroes. The specifics of Adam and Kevin’s journey to enrollment might be different than what I had in mind (the next generation after heroes were outlawed in the 60s), but the emotional core is what makes the series so enjoyable. Yes, there are space baddies and cool fight scenes, but the awkwardness of real life often makes the cosmic stuff seem easy.

Hercules (Marvel Comics)

Dan Abnett and Luke Ross take a more-or-less defunct character, admit his recent flaws, and do a damn good job rebuilding him from a drunken ass into the hero he’s supposed to be. The current (and maybe only) storyline concerns the rise of new gods based on modern societal vices like social media technology and extreme narcissism. Herc must rise to the occasion against this new pantheon intent on culling all the old gods from existence. The plot is interesting, but it’s truly Abnett’s character work that sells this title.

The Spire (BOOM! Studios)

If you’re a fan of BOOM! Studios, Simon Spurrier, or Jeff Stokely, you probably already know how incredible The Spire has been, otherwise it might not be on your radar. As beautifully as Spurrier has spun this mysterious mythos around an enigmatic plot, Stokely’s intuitive artwork is simply magnificent, a fitting blend of comic nuances and minimalist techniques that highlight emotion and give the entire series a storybook feel without coming across as childish or unfinished. The Spire is only an eight issue mini-series, so catch up now then pick up the final two issues as they come out because they are going to be amazing.

Black Canary (DC Comics)

This is the black sheep (no pun intended) of even the most experimental of DC’s titles to come of last June’s DC You initiative, one that focused primarily on spreading outside the traditional superhero comic tropes a la Brenden Fletcher, Cameron Stewart, and Babs Tarr’s successful refresh of Batgirl. Even by Batgirl metrics, Fletcher and artist Annie Wu’s Black Canary seems like a stretch; Dinah Drake (nee Lance nee Drake) is the lead singer for a rock band called Black Canary, and when Dinah’s past catches up with her, it spells disaster and supernatural shenanigans for her bandmates and any innocent civilians who might happen to be attending a concert by a super-popular rock band. And to be fair, it was a very silly premise for a number of issues, but more recent events have elevated the once-flimsy story into something more substantial and interesting. Fletcher is playing a long game with short bursts of energy, so the pacing feels erratic when it’s actually quite purposeful. Definitely a sleeper hit.

Saints (Image Comics)

I don’t even remember there being much marketing for this series before it debuted, and I certainly haven’t seen much press for it since, and that’s a damn shame. Sean Lewis and Benjamin Mackey are unraveling a crazy fun narrative about saints suddenly reincarnated to fight in some upcoming war. The premise isn’t terribly innovative or fresh, but Mackey’s stylized artwork with Lewis’ humorously colloquial dialogue make for a fantastic tale about misfits that must band together even if they might hate one another.

Past the Last Mountain (Comics Experience)

After a war between men and magic, mythical beasts are subjugated in a number of ways, but mostly they’re confined to work camps to help make human lives easier. The series follows a motherly dragon, a warrior fawn, and an orphaned young goblin on the run from their human captors. Connected by an oath to the goblin’s murdered mother, the dragon and fawn pledge to keep their friend’s son safe and out of human hands. Writer and letterer Paul Allor brings a sense of emotional intuition with his narrative, one that helps the reader see the tragedy of the magical creatures but also the difficult position in which human find themselves. Louie Joyce and Gannon Beck provide incredible visuals that feels like a mosaic of styles, with each character given distinct features and detailing that others don’t and vice versa. The young goblin’s aesthetic is minimal, the fawn’s physical prowess makes her body the main focus, and the dragon’s emotions are directly connected to her bevy of facial expressions. It all works together fantastically.

Pencil Head (Image Comics)

Ted McKeever is bold. With this series, he is exposing the underbelly of the corporate comic book machine without outright calling out big publishers like DC and Marvel. The character depictions of sleezy corporate big-wigs is commentary enough on how McKeever perceives the powers-that-be. Pencil Head is paced crazy, but is incredibly easy to read, somehow. More than any other series on this list, I find it difficult to explain what makes Pencil Head so engaging – it’s part James Robinson’s Airboy, part Grant Morrison’s Animal Man #26, and part Christopher Burns’ Black Hole. If that’s not enough to confuse you to all hell, just go read the two available issues and see what I mean.