Confessions are never pretty so I’ll get this over with.
I’m an English major, and (please don’t tell anyone) I like comic books. I like them for a lot of reasons, and I feel compelled to form an elaborate argument for the literary and social value of the “graphic novel,” or why pop-lit should be considered a legitimate field of study, but then I wouldn’t really be explaining why I like them. No, I wouldn’t be saying that I really like them because they’re primarily concerned with sex and violence, and the point at which the two will inevitably intersect. I wouldn’t be explaining that contemporary audiences find sex and violence to be the most entertaining topics to read, write, or talk about, and that anyone who’s ever seen a couple hours of Fox News can tell you that. And I certainly wouldn’t be saying that if given a choice between Batman and Beowulf, I’d take Batman every time.
I like comic books, but the problem I’ve got now is that reading something like Batman isn’t the same as it used to be. There was a time when I could read from cover to cover and be done with it. The idea that there was a real human intellect behind the fictitious character, someone building the so-called “DC Universe” from scratch based on their own life experiences was just never part of the equation. Now I’m conditioned to read intelligently, to think, to analyze, to make connections, especially after I’ve finished the book, and although I do occasionally miss the days when reading was strictly an escapist activity, I have to say I enjoy it.
Given that, the idea that there was a Batman book titled Death and the Maidens, and that it was potentially similar to this fall’s Pegasus Players’ production of Ariel Dorfman’s play of (almost) the same title, was naturally tempting. On the surface, Batman: Death and the Maidens has all the hallmark elements: Sex, Violence, And the intersection of the two.
But given that the play does not concern itself with super villains like Ra’s Al-Ghul and his genocidal efforts to restore ecological balance to the earth, or with the eternal struggle between good and evil in Gotham City, or even with the murder of Bruce Wayne’s parents and its influence in the inception of his alter-ego, it may appear immediately that the similarities between the works stop at the title.
However, what is Batman if not, like Paulina Salas, an ordinary individual pushed to the edge of sanity by his own tortured past? That he now seeks fulfillment in the persecution of criminals and corrupt citizens like those he deems indirectly responsible for his parents’ murder calls to mind the most fundamental theme of both works: vengeance versus justice. But most significant in terms of social importance is how and why the tortured becomes the torturer, and if this pattern enables us to achieve justice and restore stability to our lives, or if the cycle of violence is merely repeated and reborn.
So I like comic books. I like them because they’re mostly about sex and violence, but if it so happens that reading them turns out to be an intellectually fruitful activity after all, then so much the better.
Michael Iaquinto is a member of Sigma Tau Delta and the Presidential Fellow for the Humanities Division.
