Category: (Auto)Biography

Superman: The Unauthorized Biography by Glen Weldon

A briefer (and less self-indulgent) version of this appears on Goodreads.

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Superman: The Unauthorized Biography
Superman: The Unauthorized Biography by Glen Weldon
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

I was five years old when Superman: The Movie was released, and while I can’t remember much of the experience — by gum, when I left the theater with my parents, I believed a man could fly. I don’t know if that was my introduction to the character, it’s certainly the one that I remember. He was certainly around for the rest of my childhood — action figures, in SuperFriends, coloring books, the sequels, clothing, and, of course, in comics. He was never a favorite the way that Robin (later Nightwing), Cyborg, Changeling, or Spider-Man were, but he was a constant, an ideal. The cover of Crisis on Infinite Earths #7 is burned into my brain. I can’t tell you how many times I read John Byrne’s Man of Steel. Even after I stopped collecting comics, he was around — I watched most of Lois & Clark‘s episodes, and every one of Smallville‘s. My older sons and I spent who knows how many hours with the Justice League cartoons. I even own Superman Returns on DVD (as I recall, I purchased it the same day as I got the Donner Cut of Superman II, a far better use of my money).

In other words, this was a book written for people just like me.

Glen Weldon, NPR’s Comics Critic, has given us a great cultural history of Superman — from his prototypes and then genesis in the early work of Shuster and Siegel up to The New 52 and looking forward to the release of Snyder’s Man of Steel — and all points between. At once entertaining and pedantic, Weldon examines The Last Son of Krypton, the state of comics as a medium, and what both say about American culture through the decades.

He begins, as he ought, with Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster growing up, reading and (even as kids) writing comics, their struggles along the path to publication and eventual establishment in the field. Shortly after this, they came up with their most famous creation, which was essentially the inception of the dominant genre in comics. Weldon focuses on this period in painstaking detail — giving detailed descriptions of the early stories (panel by panel sometimes), their reception and sales.

Following this, he moves into decade by decade summaries — in these chapters Weldon looks at the predominant themes in the stories, power changes and development, new characters, and so on. Special attention is given to Lois Lane (both as an individual and in her relationship(s) to Clark/Superman), tweaks to his origin, and depiction of Krypton. I thought there were too many reboots, resets, etc. today — glad to see it’s not a novel development. Superman’s appearance in other media is also discussed — comic strips, radio, television, cartoons, movies, and even merchandising — how that affects Superman, Clark and the rest. As interesting as that was, I was most interested in seeing how cultural movements, politics and wars impacted the character.

Weldon spends a lot of time discussing Superman: The Movie, the ups and downs along the path to its production. I laughed out loud at the lengthy list of actors considered for the role — so, so few of them should’ve been in the running. Everyone so up-in-arms about the recent Affleck-as-Batman casting should read this list, it might help them see how good he might be in comparison. The list for Lois was shorter, but no less interesting. In light of how far-reaching movie cross-promotion goes today, it’s amazing to see how little DC Comics did to capitalize on this movie (or the sequels).

I think he went lighter on Superman in the comics from this point on, focusing on the Reeve films, the Superboy TV series, Lois & Clark, Smallville, and Singer’s movie. Well, except a really good and thorough look at The Death of Superman saga from the 90’s. Still, fascinating on the whole — sometimes the level of detail can get overwhelming and hard to wade through, but it was worth it. It’s not encyclopedic — however close it feels — there were stories and creators that I thought got short shrift from the last couple of decades. For example, I was disappointed in the lack of any discussion of It’s Superman by Tom De Haven — 2005’s best depiction of the character, although as it wasn’t sanctioned by DC, I understand it.

I would’ve liked to see a more consistent tone — he never steps over the line in to fanboy territory, but generally he’s positive about the characters and universe — but from time to time, he seems snide and like he’s looking down on the franchise and its fans. That said, his take on the character as a whole, and why he’s still a force in popular culture today expressed in the Introduction was great — almost perfect. I wish that Nolan and Snyder had more in common with that take than they seem to have. My major complaint was the utter lack of any images whatsoever — as thorough as some of his descriptions of the art may be, it’s no replacement for the Real (reprinted) McCoy. Licensing those images would be a nightmare (and likely an expensive one), so again, I understand it — I just would’ve liked to see it.

For fans, for those who like the character but wouldn’t go so far as to call themselves that, those interested in the medium — this is a recommended read on this slice of American history.

The Secret Thoughts of an Unlikely Convert: An English Professor’s Journey Into Christian Faith by Rosaria Champagne Butterfield

The Secret Thoughts of an Unlikely Convert: An English Professor's Journey Into Christian Faith
The Secret Thoughts of an Unlikely Convert: An English Professor’s Journey Into Christian Faith by Rosaria Champagne Butterfield
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

This is simply one of the best books I’ve read this year — in years, actually. It’s billed as her account of her conversion — and after all the articles about/interviews with Butterfield, you might begin to think that there’s no point reading it, you already know her story.

But this is about more than just her conversion experience — nothing so limited as that. It’s about a conversion that’s a complete renovation of a sinner, bringing all her thoughts into subjection of the Scriptures — being transformed by the renewing of her mind. In Luther’s terms a lifetime repentance (“When our Lord and Master Jesus Christ said, ‘Repent’ (Mt 4:17), he willed the entire life of believers to be one of repentance. . . it does not mean solely inner repentance; such inner repentance is worthless unless it produces various outward mortification of the flesh.”).

Some of the parts I’ve seen the most complaints about are just that, strangely enough, while Christians enjoy/appreciate the story of her coming to faith, it’s harder to appreciate her working out her faith in fear and trembling. Whether it’s about her coming to her convictions about worship, or her work as a foster/adoptive parent, or her husband’s pastoral work — it’s about the Lord transforming her, renovating her character. As such, her life is an example for all believers.

Beyond that she has some powerful and wise words for how the church ought to treat homosexuals (any unrepentant sinner, really). As well as what she says about her current sins in comparison to her former life. It’s powerful, moving, inspiring and convicting.

She has a way with words, and can enthrall her reader even as she’s retelling events you know about before starting the book. She’s honest about her past, but doesn’t revel in details, there’s no sensationalism here. It’s a great book, useful on several levels. May the Lord give us many more Rosaria Champagne Butterfields.

Dusted Off: Wishful Drinking by Carrie Fisher

This is by no means the best written book I’ve read this year–which is a shame, because Carrie Fisher is a skillful writer. It is, however, probably the funniest thing I’ve read since I Love You, Beth Cooper.

Adapted from her one-woman show, Wishful Thinking is an autobiography by anecdote–a series of recollections from her star-studded childhood, through her early addictions while starting in film, through her later addictions and failed marriages, and to her hospitalization in a mental health facility and electroshock therapy–and a bunch of stuff in between.

Sounds like a blast, doesn’t it? Well, here’s the opening paragraphs, where she explains that.

I have to start by telling you that my entire existence could be summed up in one phrase. And that is: If my life wasn’t funny it would just be true, and that is unacceptable.

What that really means, other than what it sounds like, is, let’s say something happens and from a certain slant maybe it’s tragic, even a little bit shocking. Then time passes and you go to the funny slant, and now that very same thing can no longer do you any harm.

So what we’re really talking about then is: location, location, location.

Fisher’s clearly at the point where this material can do her no harm, what it can do is entertain. You can hear her voice reading the book–I’ve got to remember to see if she reads the audiobook, gotta grab it–I can only imagine how fun seeing the show would be.

Yes, there are cheap shots at Republicans, Sarah Palin, President Bush, and several other things that will offend many. But Fisher is so refreshingly honest and frank in telling her story that you really just don’t care.

Dusted Off: Brianiac

Finally got around to picking up Ken Jennings‘ book, Braniac: Adventures in the Curious, Competitive, Compulsive World of Trivia Buffs at the library. Only made it through the first couple of chapters before I fell asleep tonight (the main book I’m reading at the moment, Nanny State, has been hijacked by TLomL). This promises to be a very fun read–best first chapter I’ve read in ages.

Got a hankerin’ to start watching Jeopardy! again for some reason…

Dusted Off: I Laughed, I Cried, I spent a lot of money at the iTunes Store…

(well, didn’t actually spend the money–didn’t have it–but I have a huge shopping list now)

Every time I have a crush on a woman, I have the same fantasy: I imagine the two of us as a synth-pop duo. No matter who she is, or how we meet, the synth-pop duo fantasy has to work, or the crush fizzles out. I have loads of other musical fantasies about my crushes—I picture us as a Gram-and-Emmylou country harmony duo, or as guitarists in a rock band, trading off vocals like Mick and Keith. But for me, it always comes back to the synth-pop duo. The girl is up front, swishing her skirt, tossing her hair, a saucy little firecracker. I’m the boy in the back, hidden behind my Roland JP8000 keyboard. She has all the courage and star power I lack. She sings our hit because I would never dare to get up and sing it myself. She moves the crowd while I lurk in the shadows, lavishing all my computer-blue love on her, punching the buttons that shower her in disco bliss and bathe her in the spotlight. I make her a star. . . .

It’s odd that I’ve never pictured myself as a solo rock star. I’ve always dreamed of a new wave girl to stand up front and be shameless and lippy, to take the heat, to teach me her tricks, teach me to be brace like her. I needed someone with a quicker wit than mine. The new wave girl was brazen and scarlet. She would take me under her wing and teach me to join the human race, the way Bananarama did with their “Shy Boy.” She would pick me out and shake me up and turn me around, turn me into someone new. She would spin me right round, like a record.

If any part of that selection resonates with you in any way, or if you just like reading insightful men talk about their love for their wives. Then you need to read Rob Sheffield’s Love Is a Mix Tape: Life and Loss, One Song at a Time. Sheffield is a music critic for Rolling Stone, and this, his first book, is a chronicle of his time with his wife, Renée, from their meeting to her untimely death at the age of 31. But he doesn’t tell the story straight, no sir. He frames his account in discussions of mix tapes he or she made for various times/events in their lives. The songs, and the feelings they evoke, are just as much part of their story as anything else.

I have built my entire life around loving music, and I surround myself with it. I’m always racing to catch up on my next favorite song. But I never stop playing my mixes. Every fan makes them. The times you lived through, the people you shared those times with—nothing brings it all to life like an old mix tape. It does a better job of storing up memories than actual brain tissue can do. Every mix tape tells a story. Put them together, and they add up to the story of a life.

Before he really dives into the story of his life with Renée we are treated to some fun writing–like his taxonomy of mix tapes (e.g., “The Party Tape,” “Road Trip,” “You Broke My Heart and Made Me Cry and Here are Twenty or Thirty Songs About It”) and the story of picking the music for a school dance at 13 (which starts with the killer opener: “Like a lot of stories, this one begins, ‘I was too young to know better.’ Like a lot of stories that begin ‘I was too young to know better,’ this one involves Cheap Trick.”) In these opening chapters, we get a feel for who Rob Sheffield is, his humor, his love for music, how it’s shaped his reactions to life (or at least his descriptions of his reactions).

And then things swing into high gear. He meets, falls in love with, marries and learns to live with Renée. And we really get to know Rob as he gets to know her. He describes the night they started to fall in love:

I could feel serious changes happening to me the longer I stayed in Renée’s room. I felt knots untie themselves, knots I didn’t know were there. I could already tell there were things happening deep inside me that were irreversible. Is there any scarier word than “irreversible”? It’s a hiss of a word, full of side effects and mutilations. Severe tire damage—no backing up. Falling in love with Renée felt that way. I felt strange things going on inside me, and I knew that these weren’t things I would recover from. These were changes that were shaping the way thing were going to be, and I wouldn’t find out how until later. Irreversible.

Even if you hadn’t read the book jacket to know what happens to Renée, Sheffield litters the early chapters of the book with references to her death. But you’re still unprepared for it when it comes. Not as unprepared as he was, but enough that it jars. At this point, he’s drawn you enough into his life that you can’t help but feel for him in his pain. Those were real tears I had to try to read through (glad all the clients at work were asleep at 3:30 am) as he described calling their mother’s on Mother’s Day to tell his tragic news, or the way that he kept expecting her to call him and tell him she was coming home.

This isn’t just about their relationship, you cannot escape music in these pages. (you could also say, the book isn’t just about music, you cannot escape their relationship in these pages). Pop music is just ubiquitous in Sheffield’s world–references to songs, lyrics, performers, labels…it’s all there as part of the warp and woof of his reality, giving the account a larger, yet more accessible scope. Some of that will stay with me as long as the relationship story. Not unlike when I read Hornby’s About a Boy, his reaction to the suicide of Kurt Cobain really struck me.* I wasn’t a Nirvana fan–it’s only recently that I can say I appreciated much of their music–but reading Sheffield, I wished I had been a fan so I could’ve experienced things the way he did. Beyond the reaction to Cobain’s death, his discussion of Nirvana’s work helped me to see it in a way that even now (maybe especially now), I can appreciate it for what it was.

Funny, touching, poignant, well-written, moving. (am getting redundant there…sure sign of a post that’s gone on too long) One of the best books I’ve read this year–one of the better books I’ve read in recent years.
Grade: A+

* The total absence of this in the movie is why, no matter how nicely made the film was or how many awards it received, About a Boy was a total failure.

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