You don’t have to be a comics nerd these days to note our society’s fascination with comic superheroes and crime fiction. On any given Saturday you could go see a film adaptation of your favorite vintage comic. Likewise, take a look at any fiction bestseller list, and you’ll consistently see the lists topped by hero-driven crime and thriller books. Although the noir tradition originally dominated crime-centered comics narratives, it seems Stan Lee ushered us into a new era of obsession with superhero comics. As that sub-genre has developed, the heroes have become more complex—no longer the hero on the “shelf” (think Superman), our heroes now have foibles, flaws, needs, wants, and can’t always save the day, the cat, or their love interests. Maybe it’s because so many of us have big things that feel out of our control right now (politics, jobs, family, money), but our society is fascinated by the hero right now—whether ingénue sleuth or someone in a cape, and truthfully as a comic book lover I couldn’t be happier. We’re looking for someone to save the day, or better yet, be able to save the day ourselves! Heroes give us insight into what we find inspirational, and ultimately give us a window into how we wish we could change our world.
I’m not alone in my love of exploring crime fiction via graphic novels or vintage comic reboot. I think that our obsession with comic and crime fiction offer some interesting insights into our world right now, and it’s something I truly loved exploring while writing The Frame-Up. In mainstream culture, Marvel has been gaining ground for years now (I’d say it started with the success of the X-Men movies), and the brilliance of offering these remakes lies in how they provide everything people seem to want right now: the comfort of familiar characters with the promise of new adventure. Additionally, our CGI has now caught up to these epic storylines, and we can finally pull off these “comic book” movies in a way not previously possible. It’s the perfect recipe for success—the only thing missing is a plot that is both instantly understandable to the layperson and a storyline that can be built upon for subsequent installments. Enter: crime fiction, and the tradition of long-running series that often focus on real-world problems. Crime fiction and comic books have always been linked—from the very noir-inspired novels like Dick Tracy to the classic conversation of Superman vs. Batman style of justice. Beyond just the basic “writing about crime makes for fast-paced suspense and a lot of fun explosions,” crime fiction and comics share a few deeper connections worth noting (though who doesn’t love fun explosions on the page?).
no longer the hero on the “shelf” (think Superman), our heroes now have foibles, flaws, needs, wants, and can’t always save the day, the cat, or their love interests.First off, vintage comics and comic-inspired crime fiction allow a person to peer into the world of crime, to have a stake in an end-of-the-world-(as-we-know-it) game without risking life, limb, or mental happiness. I’m not a huge fan of gore—in my fiction, or on my comic book page. I’m much more a fan of the vintage BAM! POW!-style action. Similarly, I love a good Stephanie Plum book, with enough grit to make it interesting, but not the things of nightmares. You get all the “good” stuff—mystery, intrigue, caper, nemesis, action scenes, battles, weapons, love, loss, and gadgets—without the stuff that truthfully has me watching Game of Thrones through my fingers. (Blood. So much blood!) It’s character driven, usually over-the-top, and more focused on entertainment than true navel gazing about what makes a hero (though one could argue Deadpool toes that line).
This distance allows a conversation about what we deem “justice” without embroiling us in current events. Do you agree with Batman’s proclivity for deeming himself above the law to serve justice? Do you love Superman’s more clean-cut approach to law and working with and within established parameters? How do we feel about morally gray “heroes” like Deadpool? Likewise with fiction of the same ilk, we can explore these questions in a fictional setting instead of a real-world current-issues take on crime fiction. It allows us more distance to contemplate social issues, and offers entertainment at the same time.
Both crime fiction and comic books embody something we all are desperate to do: be a normal person who is given extraordinary circumstances, and uses them to make a difference.Comics and crime fiction are also linked are through their shared love of the hero. When you look at the success of amateur sleuth fiction, including Stephanie Plum, Her Royal Spyness, Flavia De Luce and the like, you see a group of people who never set out to solve mysteries but have skills that somehow give these individuals an edge in success over traditional law-enforcement. These everyday people turned heroes embody a very human—and reachable—level of hero. The next step up is comic’s idea of the superhero, usually by the addition of a superpower or mutation. It escalates the problems of the human hero to a macroscopic level. I’d argue that by amping up the hero to that level, it offers that distance for social introspection by taking away some of the familiarity of the hero and the villain. They take you completely outside of your realm of comfort. And truthfully, if you look at many of the superheroes in comics, they come to their jobs unwillingly (such as the reluctantly radioactive Peter Parker).
Looking beneath the surface of similar origin stories, we find that both crime fiction and comic books embody something we all are desperate to do: be a normal person who is given extraordinary circumstances, and uses them to make a difference. We all want to believe that inside of us is a person capable of taking on the Big Bad. Of saving the Damsel or Dude in distress. Of fighting the big battles, saving the earth, and solving the crime. We want to hope that even without the braun afforded by Bruce Banner’s gamma radiation dose, our brains would make up the difference and that we could wear the mantle of hero or sleuth detective. We can envision ourselves in these detectives, and through them can enact change of all size: catch a killer, save the planet, or the universe. We all want to rise to the challenge, overcome adversity, and save the day if the need arose.
And that is the true power of a hero story, and the heart of a successful crime read. It speaks to the powerful human need to feel special even if on the outside they’re Clark Kent. Both allow us to experience the power to effect change, and through these heroes savor these heroic wins as personal victories. Comics and crime fiction have been linked for decades, and while the industries are ever-changing, these similarities remain ever-green.
