Man of Steel
I'm wonderfully contradictory when it comes to comic books – I love the idea of them, and I love the artwork, but I've never sought them out – never bought them, or read any great number of them.
Beyond a few comic books gathering dust in the book shelves at home, I have never really caught the bug. A couple of tank girl books, a couple of Gen-13 books, and copy of “Battle of the Planets” signed by the artist. Of course we're really talking about Jamie Hewlett, Adam Hughes, and Alex Ross – some of the finest artists of their generation... and therein lies my fascination; the art – not the stories.
There are perhaps five or six manga novels in another bookshelf (hidden away with the Studio Ghibli movies, where the kids can't destroy them).
I once picked up a copy of the Watchmen book in a music store and started thumbing through it – wondering what all the fuss was about. Years later I watched the movie, and wondered what I had missed out on, not having read the comic book.
And so we come to Superman.
I grew up with Christopher Reeve's poster on my wall – stating that “you'll believe a man can fly”. We did.
This summer the movie “Man of Steel” arrives at the cinema, and will perhaps fill a new generation of children with the same wonder we experienced all those years ago. I'm looking forward to seeing our youngest stood with her chest puffed out, her school sweater tied around her neck, and her fists on her hips. I'm looking forward to their gazes of awe and wonder at the cinema, and walking on air as we depart into the night. I'm looking forward to the blizzard of conversation on the way home about favourite bits, best bits, and most exciting bits.
Everyone needs a hero. Maybe for the children I am sometimes, but I don't really compare to Superman. Very few do.