THE WRITER WHO MADE ME LOVE COMICS TAUGHT ME TO HATE THEM

The more I chewed it over, the more I did want to write something, about how I was born the month the final issue of The Dark Knight Returns hit shelves. About growing up with a Batman who’d never notbeen influenced by Miller’s work.

I’m 19 and I pick up All-Star Batman and Robin #1. The first scene is one in which journalist Vicki Vale complains at length about Bruce Wayne’s ethics but drops everything to go on a date with him as soon as Alfred, not even Bruce, calls her to arrange it. It includes a double page spread of her trying on different outfits in pink lace lingerie, babbling about how she can’t believe she’s going on a date with Bruce Wayne. It might be the first time since I began buying monthly comics that I decide a Batman story isn’t worth reading.

I’m still 19 and Frank Miller announces Holy Terror, Batman, a book he wants to write where Batman “kicks Al-Qaeda’s ass.” I can’t even begin to articulate all the reasons why that sounds like a terrible idea. While speaking to NPR about his personal reaction to the September 11th attacks a few months later, Miller would say: “For the first time in my life I know how it feels to face an existential menace.” I think that I’ve never heard something so white, straight, male and sheltered.

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He will eventually repackage the idea as simply Holy Terror, after jettisoning any reference to the superhero. click to read entire article 

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