10 April 2026

Grant Morrison's Batman Annotations: Batman #658

The Give Me Comics or Give Me Death podcast is available from all your usual podcast providers, or see all episodes here

See the index for all entries in these Batman annotations here 

 

Batman & Son Part 4: 'Absent Fathers'

 


The title of Absent Fathers has multiple references in this issue, and indeed is a theme throughout the run.  The main reading of it is, of course, Bruce’s absence from Damian’s life up to this point and, the implication made at the end of the issue, that it is an absence that will continue.  There is also Bruce’s absence as a father from Tim Drake (who at this point had been adopted by Bruce).  Not only is he dealt a severe beating in his absence (by his ‘brother’), Batman then concludes the adventure without him.  Finally, there is the (literal) absence of Talia’s father, Ra’s al Ghul, who casts a shadow over the whole arc.  This portends his return in the forthcoming crossover The Return of Ra’s al Ghul

A fairly simple issue here, as we wrap up the Batman & Son story.  Batman arrives back at the Batcave after last issues events to find Tim Drake bludgeoned on the floor.  He rescues Alfred and has him patch up Tim, while admonishing Damian.  His newfound son tells Bruce that his mother, Talia al Ghul, will be at Gibraltar where she attempts to ransom off the Prime Minister’s wife in exchange for the military garrison there.  Batman, with Damian in tow, arrives in the nick of time and defeats her ninja Man-Bats.  Batman and Talia confront each other until the British navy destroys the submarine they are all on - leaving Batman as the apparent sole survivor.

Page 1

A great page that acts as a recap of where we are - the Prime Minister’s wife has been kidnapped by Talia, who is using Man-Bat serum to create an army of ninja Man-Bats.  Her final line “As a wife and mother, I’m sure you’ll understand” lay out the personal reasons for her whole diabolical plot - issues she will discuss with Batman in a few pages time

Page 4

Panel 3 - Damian is wearing Jason Todd’s Robin costume he took from display in the Batcave, but along with his Assassin’s League cloak. He still has a foot in both camps.  He has yet to shed his Assassin’s clothing and embrace his role as Batman’s son.


Page 7

Panel 4 - Damian is no longer in the Robin costume, but back in his League of Assassins white top.  This would make sense, as Batman would not allow him to don his sidekick’s costume as this stage.  However, there appears to be no break in the scene from the previous page where Damian is seen in the Robin outfit.  My assumption is that the last panel on page 6 was coloured incorrectly.  Here he tries to dispel Batman’s suspicions of him as a weapon of Talia sent to disrupt his operations by telling him where she is.  It’s later revealed that was exactly Talia’s plan - so he was being used by her all along, even though he didn’t realise it. 

Page 9

Panel 5 - Batman stops the destruction of Kirk Langstrom’s serum by his long-suffering wife, as he will use it as an anti-dote for Talia’s ninja Man-Bats at the end of the issue.  He will also return to Langstrom’s serums for assistance in his final showdown with Talia a few years down the road at the climax of Morrison’s Batman.


Page 11

Panel 1 - Bat-Rocket!  Here is a sign from Morrison that he re-orienting Batman away from the street level vigilante to globe-trotting super-hero.  


Page 13

Panels 2-3 - Talia is wanting to trade the wife of the Prime Minister’s wife for control of Gibraltar, which is indeed the ‘perfect tactical outpost’.  Positioned at the southern tip of Spain, it is a tiny (2.6 square miles) British colony.  Based around the Rock of Gibraltar, a large hill and fort, it overlooks the Strait of Gibraltar, the narrow waterway that separates the Atlantic Ocean from the Mediterranean Sea, and Europe from Africa.   

Page 15

Panel 2 - One of the ninjas is injecting himself with some kind of serum.  We could assume he’s just another one of Talia’s faceless, nameless henchmen.  Yet here he is given a name - Bulu - suggesting there is something different about him.  There are a coupe of meanings to the name that might be of relevance here.  It is a surname in the central and southern African Bantu-speaking people meaning strong or brave, and he is about to develop significant strength, just off the coast of Africa.  More tenuously it is the name of the underworld in Fijian mythology - and Morrison regularly uses underworld allusions for Batman.

Page 16

Panel 1 - Bulu has been transferred into a Man-Bat.  However, just like the oddity of being the only one named, we see that he is physically different from his brethren; larger, stronger, and more monstrous.  This seems to suggest Talia has been able to ‘improve’ the Man-Bat concoction and demonstrates her knowledge of genetic engineering.  This hints at the creation of the hulking nemesis, the Heretic, who wreaks havoc in Morrison’s closing storyline. 

Page 20

We get Talia’s explanation for her motives.  She wants her and Bruce to raise Damian to rule the world.  Obviously Batman cannot agree to this.  His rejection of her is the catalyst for the final third of Morrison’s run, as she seeks revenge in the worst possible way.  Poor Damian revealing he doesn’t want to choose between them, is placed in the position of every child who’s parents can’t work it out - despite being trained a world conquering assassin, he’s just a little boy who wants his family to be together.  Interestingly when Talia says ‘ours is a love story’, Bruce doesn’t deny this but states ‘it was a long time ago’ - adding more confusion as to whether Damian was conceived consensually, as earlier Bruce had claimed he was drugged.

Page 21

Panel 4 - Moments before the submarine explodes Talia activates something on her wrist.  Some kind of teleportation device?  Whatever it is, her and Damian survive.

Page 23

Obviously Batman doesn’t need teleportation devices to survive - he’s Batman!  Batman stands here holding Damian's cowl and foreshadows his own ‘death’ in Batman #681, where Dick Grayson stands holding Batman’s cowl overlooking the water and fire.



9 April 2026

50 to 50: 1979 - Alien: The Illustrated Story

In '50 to 50' I'm counting down to my 50th birthday by reading one graphic novel from every year of my life.  Y(ou can find an index here.

Alien: The Illustrated Story

By Archie Goodwin & Walter Simonson

Originally published by Heavy Metal 1979, collected edition Simon & Schuster 1979

Version reviewed: Titan Books edition, published 2012

 

 

1979 was a time of great change around the world, there were revolutions, coups, or invasions in Vietnam, Iran, Uganda, Nicaragua, and Afghanistan, and the era’s nuclear worries were brought home with the Three Mile Island accident in the US.  It was easy to feel that one was, or could become, a victim of matters beyond human control, that there were forces stronger and more terrifying than people could survive.  In this atmosphere of fear for the future director Ridley Scott released his second film, Alien.
As someone familiar with, and a fan of, the original movie, it’s difficult not to see this graphic novel through two lenses; a comic standing on its own merits, and as an adaptation of a story better known in another medium.  Indeed, it’s hard to read Alien without thoughts and images of the film coming to mind.  However, there are presumably people - particular in 1979 - who read this without, or before, seeing Ridley’s Scott’s masterful movie.  So let’s first approach it in this manner.

Alien is a sci-if horror story written by Archie Goodwin (best known as an editor at Marvel Comics, with writing credits that include The Incredible Hulk, Iron Man, and Star Wars), and drawn by Walt Simonson (who worked on dozens of titles for Marvel and DC, including a seminal run on Thor).  It’s odd to see these two legends of American comics working in the French bande-dessinée album format, with its wider pages and higher panel-per-page count than American superhero comics.  Originally serialised in Heavy Metal magazine, it was then released as a graphic novel by Simon & Schuster, becoming the first comic to make the New York Times bestseller list.

In deep space the crew of an intergalactic tanker spaceship, the Nostromo, are awoken to investigate an unknown radio transmission, which despite not being able to translate is assumed to be an SOS call.  Upon landing on a barren inhospitable planet they come across a crashed or abandoned alien spaceship.  Whilst investigating they discover what appears to be the giant skeletal remains of the ship’s pilot, and dozens of large egg-type objects.  One crew member, Kane, is attacked by a creature from one of these eggs, a bony spider-like alien life form which attaches itself to his face but supplies him with oxygen to keep him alive.  He is brought back on board the ship against the orders of Warrant Officer Ripley, via the actions of Science Officer Ash.  Suspicious of Ash’s motives, a subtle conflict between him and Ripley plays out throughout the story as she attempts to figure our what’s really going on.  Eventually the creature leaves Kane’s face as it dies, and he seems to have survived the ordeal and is recovering, when, in a dramatic scene, another creature bursts out his chest in the middle of a crew meal and escapes into the vastness of the ship.  What follows is pretty straightforward but terrifying as the creature grows in size to a menacing and seemingly unstoppable form, stalking and picking off the crew one-by one.  As the crew fights a losing battle, we discover that Ash is in fact an android and has been following the orders of the ship's corporate owners to investigate and retrieve any life form found from the mysterious beacon, at all costs - including the lives of the crew.  It’s not long before he is killed off as well, leaving only Ripley (and the ship’s cat) to face the terrifying menace one-on-one in the gripping finale.


Goodwin’s writing has the story rattle through at an exhilarating pace with plenty of action, broken up by interactions between the crew which does well in the limited space to give them clear personalities and motivations.  In a very Jaws-like way, the alien is kept mainly off the page, bar the odd explosive panel, which heightens the horror and the mystery - we only ever really know as much about this abomination as the crew do; short sharp snippets before their lives are cut cruelty short.  Equally, the sub-plot of the corporations ulterior motives - enacted by Ash, and suspected by Ripley - are subtly hinted at without taking over the story with needless exposition.  The main complaint with the story is one familiar to any fans of horror - characters making inexplicable decisions.  While peering into the egg of an unknown alien life form, bringing an infected crew member back on board the ship, and splitting up in search of a threatening alien all contribute to the terror of the story, they objectively make very little sense.  Fortunately the story is engrossing enough that these issues don’t really play on your mind at the time,

Those familiar with Simonson’s bold dynamic stylised superhero art will be surprised to see his work here, adapting to the tone of the story his art is dark and claustrophobic.  The deep line work and heavy inking positions the story much more into the horror genre than the usual clean bright lines of science fiction. However, his high number of panels can often lead to an information overload - particularly in the crew conversation scenes - and it’s no coincidence that his best work is on the bigger, bolder pages of the alien attacks.  The atmosphere is ably aided by the top-notch colouring (the credits list Simonson himself as a colourist, along with Louise Simonson, Deborah Pedlar, Polly Law, and Bob Lerose).  Using muted yellows, browns, and reds, the pages feel dirty and gritty, giving the spaceship a sense of disrepair and darkness that echoes the haunted houses of the horror classics that this story owes so much debt to.  There’s also a nice subtle touch to John Workman’s lettering where communications over radio between the crew is in blue text, as opposed to the standard black.


Overall, Alien: The Illustrated Story is an engrossing and terrifying mix of sci-fi and horror that is able to become more than the sum of its parts.  The creature at the centre of the story is a malevolent force of violence, offered up without explanation or backstory.  We are as confused and terrified as the doomed members of the Nostromo crew, but at least as mere observers we are able to walk away unharmed with a feeling of gratitude for having experienced Goodwin and Simonson’s fantastic story.

But, how to consider the comic as an adaptation of the film?  First, to say that Alien is written by Archie Goodwin is obviously more than a bit disingenuous.  Goodwin has written an adaptation of a story written by Ronald Shusett and Dan O’Bannon (the latter also writing the screenplay).  Goodwin wrote his version based on the script, not this finished movie, so there are discrepancies between the two - some scenes in the graphic novel don’t appear in the film, and some key scenes in the film are omitted or minimised in the comic. Crucially the suspicions of Ash’s motives (and therefore the corporate involvement) are more apparent in the film than in the comic - though that is in large part due to Ian Holme’s wonderful performance.  With a limit of 64 pages there are obviously decisions to be made of which part of the 2-hour film to show and which not.  Goodwin is ultimately is able to hit all the key beats and keep the story flowing whilst also making sense, however this does lead to one significant difference between the adaptation and the film.

Alien the movie is a masterpiece in suspense, pacing, and tension.  Borrowing all the tricks of the horror genre, we get slow atmospheric scenes, jump scares, and a gradual change of pace as the nightmare of the crew’s situation becomes apparent.  In just 64 pages such luxury is not afforded to Goodwin.  Whilst he nails the plot, the characters, and the action of the film, he and Simonson just don’t have the space to reflect the best aspects of the film.  Perhaps the more modern American ‘cinematic’ approach to comics, could have given us a longer, slower, tenser, comic that more closely aligned to the films pacing and aesthetic.

Simonson’s depictions of the characters is spot on.  He avoids the pitfall of many movie adaptations which try for a photorealistic approach, which often either fails to look like the people involved or looks so much like them it pulls you out of the story.  Here the likeness is just enough there that you feel you’re looking at the characters in the story, and not the actors from the film.  However, the art of the alien itself is quite a significant diversion from the film.  Sure, all the pieces are there - the shape, the silhouette, the weird mouth within a mouth - but it comes with a muddy colour and texture, in keeping with the dirty feel of the ship.  One of the genius elements of the movie design (by Swiss artist H.R. Giger), is the slick and polished oil-black creepiness of the alien.  It’s phallic and sexualised nature that charges the scenes with it and Ripley in the film(s) are absent in the comic.  

 

 

All that being said, Alien: The Illustrated Story is undoubtedly one of the best examples of a film adaptation done right.  It takes most of the key elements of the film and adapts them to create an interpretation rather than reproduction.  Adaptations have a far from stellar reputation, as they usually adopt a plot heavy storyboard style that does neither the original medium nor the comic any favours.  Goodwin and Simonson were able here to bring their considerable talents to bear on a truly impressive piece of work.


I’m sure to the surprise of everyone involved at the time, Alien, would go on to spawn a huge multimedia franchise - in which comics played a major part.  At the time of writing there have been six (sort of) prequels and sequels, a TV series, multiple short films, computer games, novels, and much more - including the infamous Aliens vs Predator movies.  Whilst there haven’t been direct comic adaptations that have reached the heights of Alien: The Illustrated Story, there have been dozens of comics series exploring the wider Alien universe.  The comics are currently being published by Marvel, but the early series by Dark Horse from the late 80s to early 90s are fantastic stories that build upon the movies in very interesting ways and are definitely worth your time. 

The Give Me Comics or Give Me Death podcast is available from all your usual podcast providers, or see all episodes here 



4 April 2026

50 to 50: 1978 - A Contract With God and Other Tenement Stories

In '50 to 50' I'm counting down to my 50th birthday by reading one graphic novel from every year of my life.  Y(ou can find an index here.

A Contract With God and Other Tenement Stories 

By Will Eisner

Originally published by Baroney Books 1978

Version reviewed: Will Eisner Centennial Edition published in 2017 by W W Norton & Company

 
 
1978, the year I was born.  Need we say any more!?  Well, I suppose we should.  It was a time of great change, of the first steps toward the 21st century; the first GPS satellite was launched, the first call on a mobile phone was made, and the first test tube baby was born.  In the comics related world, there was of course Superman: The Movie - laying the foundations for the current domination of cinema by superhero films - and the very first Garfield strip made its appearance.  Other popular films included Grease, and The Last Waltz, both of which musically harked back to different periods of America's past.  In this environment, Will Eisner released A Contract With God - a comic that was revolutionary but looked back to the America of the early 20th century.  It was billed as the first ever graphic novel, and whilst it's now accepted that isn't the case, it was almost certainly the first comic to be marketed as such.  Eisner eschewed comics publishers in favour of traditional book publishers, and consciously approached the project with the intention of creating work on a par with 'literature'.  Eventually striking a deal with Baronet Publishing, A Contract With God was published to critical (if not commercial) acclaim, and has firmly established itself as one of the most historically important comics of all time.

Influenced by Eisner’s upbringing, the stories are all set in the same tenement in New York City, at the fictional address of 55 Dropsie Avenue, the Bronx.  Tenements are large buildings, divided up into smaller individual homes (apartments as we would call them now).  The New York tenements, which you’ve almost certainly seen many of in various TV shows and movies, were in Eisner’s time occupied by the poor, and were often rundown and overpopulated.  Though following the Tenement House Act of 1901 they were at least habitable places with running water, electricity, and fire regulations.

The first story is the titular A Contract With God, a parable borne of Eisner’s real life trauma of his teenage daughter’s death.  Frimme Hersh is a Jewish immigrant from Russia, who was chosen to be the only member of his village who it’s elders could afford to send to America to escape the murderous programs that swept the country in the 1880s*.  During that journey, and following a discussion with a companion about ‘justice’, he etches into stone a ‘contract with God’.  Upon arrival in America he keeps his end of the contract, living a pious life and becoming a respected and trusted member of the Hassidic community in New York and his local synagogue.  Due to his status he is chosen by some unknown mother as the doorstep recipient of a new born baby, which he duly raises and loves as his own - until she tragically dies young from an illness (unnamed in the comic - Eisner’s own daughter died of leukaemia).  In the comic’s central dramatic sequence Hersh argues with ‘God’ that he has honoured their contract but God has not lived up to his end of the bargain (‘God’ answers through the thunder and lightning of a unusually severe storm - leaving the reality of the conversation ambiguous to the reader).  

 


Tearing up his contract with God (in this case, throwing the etched stone out into the alley), Hersh embarks on a decidedly non-pious life; becoming obsessed with money and wealth (he becomes landlord of his own tenement, and then builds a property empire), taking a young wife but showing her no affection, raising rents on former friends and neighbours.  He even illegally uses bonds from the synagogue - entrusted to him for safe keeping - as collateral in his business dealings.  Eventually he uses his lease of the original tenement as leverage to convince the elders of the synagogue to write him a new contract with God.  Upon receipt of this he vows to abandon his sinful life and live a new one of charity, and to marry and have a family.  However, at that instant his dies of a heart attack, as a familiar storm of thunder and lightning rages outside.  In an epilogue a young bullied Hassidic boy finds the discarded etched stone, and enters into his own contract with God.

What is the message of this dark parable?  Some details are kept purposefully ambiguous; we never see the wording of either contract, the discussions with God are either Hersh literally shouting at the wind or God ‘talking’ via the forces of nature (a common metaphor) - your interpretation will differ according to your beliefs.  As an atheist the message seems clear; any contract with God is worthless, how devoutly you live your life makes no difference to whether you or your family live or die, your behaviour to your fellow man is more important than following the wishes of a God that doesn’t exist.  Eisner did not talk publicly about his daughter’s death until a foreword of a new version of the book was published in 2001, and then made no comment on whether that impacted his religious belief or not.  It seems, given the ambiguities of the story, and the respect given to some religious elements (such as the elders of the Synagogue) that there was at least some spiritual intent behind the story.  For believers, the message is perhaps murkier; whilst an obvious reading could be that you should always live a life devoted to God because death can come at any time, it doesn’t really explain the ‘good life’ Hersh lived that culminated in the death of his daughter,  That said, I’m sure we are all familiar with the stories of Abraham and Job - so perhaps it’s simply the longstanding religious message that you should retain your belief and service to God regardless of the events and tragedies in your life, or expecting anything in return during your mortal life.

The concept of a contract with God is of course not unique to the graphic novel.  There is an implied contract in most religions - certainly the Abrahamic ones - that if you believe in certain things and behave in certain ways then God will look after you, whether that is in this life or the next.  It’s a concept that has been adopted by secular societies. When we look at modern constitutions, and talk about the ‘social contract’, we are talking about rights and responsibilities - what we give and what we receive.  If we renage on our responsibilities (as Hersh does) do we forfeit our rights (in Hersh’s case his life)?  Eisner doesn’t give us any clear cut answers, indeed with the epilogue he suggests that such issues are still being grappled by each new generation.

Eisner’s art style here; black ink on paper, sketchy, heavily shaded and cross-hatched, feel like entries into a personal journal, and works perfectly in bringing together the principle concept behind the project - his recollections of his early life in the very same New York tenements.  Many scenes are half-hidden in shadow, silhouette, or the deluge of rain that washes over the early pages reflecting the storm of grief in Hersh.  (Is there anyone in comics better than making the pages feel drenched in water, as it pours down every surface available?  One more of Eisner’s many accomplished techniques). This not only reflects the dark tones of the story, but the dark, cramped, and dangerous buildings themselves.  

Interestingly, despite (or perhaps because of) Eisner being a master of page layout and panel-to-panel transitions, the majority of the A Contract With God story is told in single image pages, and often narration by way of oversized text takes up much, even the majority, of the page.  At times this approach veers more towards an illustrated prose story than sequential art.  Did Eisner feel that the mature literate art he was trying to create necessitated a compromise between traditional comics and prose literature?  Regardless, what he loses in the storytelling opportunities of multiple panels, he more than makes up for with his wonderful body language and facial expressions.  Hersh’s emotions - despair, grief, anger, indifference, hope, relief - feel so real and raw that the accompanying text is often unnecessary.  
A Contract with God is the closest Eisner comes in this book to achieving his goal of a ‘literate comic’ or graphic novel.  However, in reaching for the stars it feels like he forgot to keep his feet on the ground.  The remaining stories have more interesting and rounded characters, and go much further in immersing the reader into the life of a tenement in the 1920s and 30s.

The Street Singer features a deadbeat alcoholic husband and father who makes what little money he can wandering the alleys of the tenements singing for change - a kind of travelling busker.  On one of his rounds he’s called into the apartment of an ex-opera singer widow whose career was derailed after she also married a deadbeat alcoholic husband.  She seduces him and, pitching a double-act, sees him as her ticket back to the stage, and he sees her as his ticket out of his miserable tenement life.  This fanciful plan falls apart the very next day when the drunken street singer is unable to remember which of the endless alleys and apartments the lusty diva lived in.  Again the facial expressions reveal the inner emotions and thoughts of Eisner’s characters.  Whilst his figures are drawn realistically, he happily exaggerate expressions and veers into caricature in order to tell the story and reveal personality.  


If more mature adult comics means complex characters and situations, and a more realistic moral world then the traditional black-and-white right-and-wrong that epitomised traditional America comics, then it is no better demonstrated than in the third tale of the book, Super.  Ostensibly the tale of a paedophile supervisor of the tenement paying the ultimate price for his predilections, Eisner weaves the short story back and forth playing with notions of sympathy and disgust for the ‘super’ and the 10-year old object of his attention.  The notable art here is a full page close up of the super’s face, rendered in much more detail than Eisner’s usual style.  It’s a jarring image that makes the character more real than just a cartoon on a page, and works perfectly with the humanising intention of the story.

 

 

The final instalment surprisingly takes place, for the most part, away from the tenements of the city and into the Catskill Mountains in rural upstate New York.  Titled Cookalein, after the Yiddish-English word meaning ‘cook alone’, the story looks at the farms in the countryside who opened their doors to guests from the tenements in the summer - though patrons had to cook their own meals, hence the name.  Eisner’s tale follows different characters escaping the infamous New York summer heat to these getaways, but in keeping with the rest of the book there’s lust, infidelity, romance, and violence impacting everyone’s lives.   The main narrative revolves around a young man (Bennie) and woman (Goldie), both poor and desperate, who journey to the mountains separately in search of a rich prospective spouse.  In order to make a good impression Goldie saves up and buys fancy clothes, and Benny hires a new car.  Obviously this ostentatiousness backfires, as they each figure the other for the well-to-do partner they’ve come looking for.  The amusing tale takes a dark turn when Goldie’s reveal of her true background leads to Benny raping her.  The two end up with a fiancé/fiancée they probably wouldn’t have picked - but who have the money they’re looking for anyway.  It encapsulates Eisner’s ability to move from comedy to drama within the same story, and present the lives of his characters as human and as contradictory as real life.     


This collection of short stories retains high quality throughout,  and they are varied enough to be distinct from each other while also retaining a cohesive impression of life in the tenements.  The only issue I would take is the slight disconnect with the metaphysical nature the lead story with the more kitchen-sink drama of the others.  This is only reinforced by the ‘illustrated prose’ approach of the former, contrasting with the traditional comic format of the latter. 

Overall Eisner can feel his mission accomplished with A Contract With God, not only did it help American comics take a stride towards adults respectability, he pushed the quality of the writing and art along with it.  It remains the peak of Eisner’s substantial career, and possibly even 70s America comics themselves.

*For more on Jewish persecution in Russia at the 19th century see Eisner’s graphic novel The Plot: The Secret Story of The Protocols of the Elders of Zion, which was discussed on the podcast HERE.

The Give Me Comics or Give Me Death podcast is available from all your usual podcast providers, or see all episodes here

16 January 2026

50 to 50: It Begins




You could make a very convincing argument that with the Grant Morrison Batman Annotations I’m working my way (very slowly) through, the preparation for the next podcast series, and the time sink that is research for the book I’m writing (or at the very least, intend to write!), in addition to my actual job and my actual social life, that the last thing I need is another Give Me Comics or Give Me Death project.  Yet here we are.


In a move that may shock no-one who has listened to the podcast - particularly the episode where we discuss what comics we read as kids - I’m now staring down the barrel of my half-century.  Yes, in a couple of years I will be the big five-oh.  And what better way to celebrate than reading a ton of graphic novels?  But for such a prestigious/depressing [delete as appropriate] milestone, I felt something a bit different had to be done.  So, I introduce you to me new blog series: 50 to 50.  The premise is simple, I read 50 graphic novels, one from each year of my life.  So starting in 1978 and, reading roughly two a month, I should be landing with some cool new release in March 2028.  Go big or go home!


I’ve already compiled a provisional list.  I intend to stick with it as well as I can - though some of the early ones may depend on availability and affordability.  The 50 I’ve picked cover a pretty broad range of the medium.  I don’t think I’ve got anything by the same creator(s) twice, and it’s pretty close to 50 different publishers as well.  I had a blast compiling the list, throwing in comics I’ve had on my ‘must-read’ list for years, whilst also taking a chance on some stuff I know nothing about.  If I can manage to drag some meaningful analysis from my soon-to-be senile brain, I might actually be able to wrap it all up with a look at how graphic novels have changed over my lifetime.


So stay tuned for the first entry in the series, as we journey back to the heady days of 1978!

 

EDIT:  I'll update this post with an index of all the blogs as I go along:

 

1978 - A Contract With God and Other Tenement Stories 

1979 - Alien: The Illustrated Story


The Give Me Comics or Give Me Death podcast is available from all your usual podcast providers, or see all episodes here