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136 pages, Paperback
Published April 29, 2025
It began with a simple ritual: a visit to the local comic shop with my kids and among scattered floppies this volume beckoned—Fantastic Four vs. Galactus. The original story I’d never truly read, despite knowing its legacy and lore in detail. Strange how comics are. But opening those pages was something else entirely. It felt like unrolling a scroll from Marvel’s primordial archive.
This is not just a tale of superheroes and villains. It is a cosmic parable. Galactus—whose name rings like a thunderclap across galaxies—is no mere adversary. As Ryan North aptly frames in the introduction, he is one of the universe’s constants. A living metaphor. Galactus does not want. Galactus is. He devours because consumption is his nature. He endures because the stars themselves whisper his necessity. There is a chilling purity to his existence: no malice, no mercy, only hunger shaped like a god. This is the force symbolized by Shiva in another, modern name and with sci-fi trappings.
These earliest encounters—Kirby and Lee’s Galactus Trilogy—read like scripture. We witness the Fantastic Four not merely battle a foe, but attempt to halt entropy, to speak logic into the abyss. Silver Surfer’s introduction and rebellion within three tightly plotted issues becomes a psalm of empathy, Reed Richards’ defiance an ode to intellect facing the infinite. Imagine how such a character arc would happen in modern comics: impossible!
Later tales collected here, hundreds of issues apart in Marvel time, show the evolution not of Galactus—but of our lens. The brush strokes become looser, the pacing more stretched, the dialog edgier, mortal. But Galactus remains unchanged, untouched. Even when weakened by Doctor Strange’s sorcery or momentarily overcome by physical force, his essence persists, like a god briefly clothed in limitations to let the mortals breathe.
Of Myth and Memory
To read these pages is to step into a mythic rhythm, where hairstyles and speech may date the surface—but the story beats are timeless. A child in the ’60s could have spent an entire golden afternoon submerged in a single issue’s density. Today, our graphic epics unfold slowly, lazily, and deeply decompressed. Yet Galactus continues to rise—above continuity, beyond style.
These stories are not simply entertainment. As much as this point has been made in many flavors, this trilogy shows how comics are are modern myth etched in primary colors. Galactus is not an enemy to be vanquished. He is a trial to be endured. He reminds us that not all forces in life can be reasoned with—some must be faced with wonder, surrender, and the hope of surviving the encounter.