So what can a modern audience gain from reading Doc Savage? From my experience reading the very first novel of this epic series, "The Man of Bronze," I'd say quite a bit.
This 1933 Radium-Age age classic of lost race science fiction and adventure came at the birth of the new Golden Age as the working-class masses were enjoying new-found literacy while also enduring economic hardships, and soon enough, widespread death and tragedy from a new World War. Books were not just for the intelligentsia anymore, and pulp stories like "The Man of Bronze" used the art-form of the novel, along with some incredible illustrations, to bring to life some much needed inspiration into the lives of lower and middle class homes across America. What is the nature of this inspiration?
Well, Doc Savage is just some guy, you know? Just a "bloke." In his first novel, he is young and somewhat of a Cluster A personality--with an autistically brilliant mind but little interpersonal skills, being painfully shy around the opposite sex and preferring his own company to those of others, disappearing for long periods of time in his frozen "Fortress of Solitude" to play his own intellectual masturbatory games. He has no superpowers, but he is nonetheless a superhero. One of the first. This is not because he is special. He's no chosen one. He's not the son or daughter of Darth Vader or the Emperor. He's not marked with a zigzagging scar on his head, not the "Timeless Child," not destined to bring balance to anything, not some prophecy fulfilled. It is only through vigorous discipline and training that he attains such perfection of humanity both in body and soul, and it is through his own personal conviction that he dedicates his life for the betterment of the world. That means that he is an ideal, yes, but an ideal we can all aspire to as fellow "blokes" despite our own mental or physical disabilities.
Just as audiences "needed" a Doc Savage in the intervening years between World War I and the post-Vietnam era, so too does our collective global tribe need the simplistic symbol of innocence and good that Clark Savage, Jr. represented for the American people during dark times. For we are living in our own dark times in many ways. Though we are living amidst unprecedented wealth and technology, we are a very unhappy people. One doesn't need to turn on the news to appreciate this. How many of us know someone who has died from an opioid overdose or suicide? And this fundamental unhappiness is so systemic that it has infected our escapism. Our sports and entertainment does in fact serve as a mirror of the collective mental health of a society. Gladiatorial bloodbaths in the Roman Colosseum is a great example.
And so at the Tokyo Olympics, instead of our elite athletes of all races and genders proudly banding together under the moniker "We're Number One" with the kind of pride we see in even the smallest nation states represented in the global arena, we have people abandoning their teammates in a fit of peak because they made one mistake, and announcing to the world that America is a racist country, seemingly ashamed at their own opportunities for success and accomplishment.
Indeed, should anyone attempt to give Doc Savage a resurgence amidst our current state of national cynicism, there would be the temptation to gender swap the character, or race swap him, or misrepresent him as the chauvinistic residue of colonial patriarchy, or deconstruct him as a has-been buffoon who needs to pass the torch to more competent and representative personalities. The very descriptions of Doc Savage as a physically and mentally perfect specimen of humanity would trigger outrage in our current purveyors of modern entertainment, unnecessarily evoking images of Nazi ubermensch ideals. He is not dark enough, not damaged enough. He doesn't bare the scars of self-mutilation, and self-hatred, and selfishness. Shouldn't he have a drug problem, a beer gut, a couple of tattoos, smoke unfiltered cigarettes, have purple and matted hair, maybe a couple of razor marks on his wrists to be truly relevant and representative? And that is why I think modern audiences should read and appreciate the unadulterated original works of Doc Savage in their historical context.
For Doc Savage is the distillation of the timeless "good vs. evil" tale to the most simplistic level without the dubious crossing into questionable ethics that comes with identity politics and laissez faire cynicism. For example, in "Man of Bronze," our hero does not kill his antagonists. He tries to save them, give them a reason for seeing another side of things, tries to give them a new lease on life. One of his very first acts of courage is toward a sniper who is trying to kill him. The sniper, pursued by Savage, jumps into a lagoon and is attacked by a shark. Savage jumps in and wrestles the shark, putting it into a chokehold, so that the villain can escape with his life. The villain, impressed by this selfless act, questions his own choices, and decides to live a new life of integrity. Now that's some good Doc Savage right there!
Like another of my favorite heroes, Doctor Who, Savage also prefers to use his brains rather than brawn to overcome his enemies. The focus of this story is very much on the power of education and persistent personal study to accomplish your goals, a lesson we can all benefit from.
This first novel is not a very good origin story. It doesn't delve into the psychology too much of why he is the way he is, or how he came to do the things he does. All of the tropes and formulae of subsequent stories are already fully established--his office on the 86th floor of a Manhattan skyscraper, his "Fabulous Five," his ability to speak dozens of languages, his mathematical prowess, etc. But it is a good introduction to everything about the series that was once held dear for generations.
By no means is this a perfect novel. To call this "campy" is putting it mildly. Shark wrestling is just the tip of the iceberg as far as the over-the-top pulp action encountered in this entry that requires some serious suspension of disbelief. The fact that Doc Savage is so perfect in so many ways also lessens the stakes a bit. You never really get the sense that our hero is ever in true danger, at least not in this entry. And parts of it haven't aged well. For example, when one of the "Fabulous Five" encounters the princess of an isolated Central American tribe directly descended from the Mayans, he exclaims "A pippin!" The princess hears this and is embarrassed, and thus we supposedly learn she has been taught English. Really? English is my first language, and I didn't know what the hell a pippin was!
And of course, the writing is a bit pedestrian, but it was made purposefully this way to be enjoyed by all audiences no matter their age or education. Truly, "The Man of Bronze" was meant to be inclusive and accessible. For me, that adds to my appreciation of this book.
Despite the flaws, as a historical example of the scifi and thriller genres, this is a very accomplished piece of work, with non-stop action and pulpy goodness to keep you turning pages for a brief yet satisfying vicarious adventure.
So I propose we leave Doc Savage the way he is for now, and I encourage modern readers to experience him this way. Because I do think we need to get back in touch with old fashioned heroes crafted and delivered with that touch of innocence and national pride of less "enlightened" decades. At the very least, I think it's nice to just see where we came from. But if we can put ourselves into the lives of our ancestors who were inspired by these simple morality tales, we may appreciate what books like these were trying to accomplish, and maybe we could try to infuse our contemporary pathos with a little more of that childlike excitement, pride, hope, and wonder that can enliven our daily lives and our future.
SCORE: For already established fans of classic adventure, this book certainly earns the "Fabulous Five." But as an overall work of literature, I rate this three pippins and a bulky bronze bicep (3.5 stars rounded up!)