“There are two ways to deal with envy. One is to admit it, and therefore become free of the guilt of desire and learn how to live without it. There other option is to merely take what you want.”
…Fascinating. I confess I skipped reading Justice when it was originally serialized. I assumed it was just another vanity project for Alex Ross, a way to keep his work in circulation, as had happened in the aftermath of Marvels (itself another vanity project, the vanity project over at Marvel), but more importantly Kingdom Come, that quintessential story he told with Mark Waid in which he challenged the assumptions readers had about superheroes in the 1990s, not just the comics from that decade, but the deconstruction work from Moore and Miller just before it, that dug into cynicism instead of hope. After all, Ross had made it his stock in trade, a whole series of Kingdom Come knockoffs at Marvel, a look into a future with no similar purpose, and spotlight projects at DC that just emphasized heroes and Ross’s art. I never read his Uncle Sam. Probably I’ll have to correct that at some point.
He got lost in the art, and I got lost in believing he’d never find his way out.
I was wrong.
The quote beginning this review is from Brainiac. He’s trying to explain the villains’ perspective in this comic, as Lex Luthor does in the first issue, as writer Jim Krueger does in a foreword to this volume. Luthor is in essence describing the modern age, since the Reformation, the downfall of Christian faith, of religious thought in general in the West. Humanity grew a little tired of believing in things bigger than itself, and believing it had to depend on these things. A lot of humanity simply never understood the nature of belief, of faith, assuming instead that something bigger somehow made us smaller.
Luthor betrays his real intentions pretty quickly, as always. He simply intends to replace real heroes with counterfeit ones, thanks to Brainiac’s little admission, about envy.
That’s the story so far.
I was going to read all three volumes and then start tackling reviews, but after this unexpected banger of an opening, I just couldn’t.
Krueger uses narration much as Jeph Loeb did at the time, what made Loeb such a sensation, as a guiding tool, a separate yet essential, indispensable literary guide to classic superhero storytelling, to the psychology of the players on the stage. He otherwise tackles the kind of story you’ll find in any number of other examples, right up to the present (I might be wrong, but Waid and DC are doing it again this summer in the pages of Absolute Power).
Ross, whose work used to rely on live models to form his concepts, is painting over the pencils of Doug Braithwaite for this project. It relieves Ross from the burden and frees him to merely indulge himself, and that allows him to take on a longer story. And thankfully he picked something thematically in line with Kingdom Come, that at least as of this opening act truly has a chance to reach beyond it.