Archie Goodwin's detailed introduction compares his milestone of Bronze Age comics to Master Of Kung Fu, and while there's certainly something to that in the way both books drew on the 1970s fascination with martial arts at the same time as they began the great blurring of superhero comics' rigid morality, it also seems to miss a more obvious comparison. Paul Kirk is a Westerner with a training in Eastern martial arts, a man who wears a bright and flamboyant costume but who is more comfortable in the shadows and won't hesitate to kill. He has a backstory which involves lab experiments and cloning, and a power explicitly described as a healing factor. Sound like any Canadian mutants you can think of? Ones who made their debut in autumn 1974, not long after this series wrapped? I say 'series'; it was a back-up introduced in an effort to revive faltering sales on Detective Comics, though Goodwin admits he was soon spending more time on these eight-page strips than on the main story, and quite right too, because like any DC character apart from the Legion, Manhunter is far more interesting than that silly little rich boy with the half-arsed Shadow tribute act. Who does, alas, show up for the finale, but a) you can't have everything and b) at least he wasn't quite so annoying back then as he's since become. Besides, for all that I don't like the character, it's always interesting to see Walt Simonson's take on someone new. This was one of Simonson's first gigs, and key to making his name; the most surprising thing is that, despite the original Manhunter being a Kirby ko-kreation (with Joe Simon, just like the slightly more famous Captain America), the visuals here are way less Kirbyesque than Simonson's style would subsequently become, instead tending towards a sort of moody, cross-hatched noir not a million miles away from Hugo Pratt or photorealist newspaper strips. And of course with the amount of story being packed into so few pages, the panels tend to be small and clear, with scant room for the fabulous sound effects that would later become Simonson's trademark. No cosmic confrontations, either, just down and dirty killings and conspiracies, pulp action, and plenty of world-weary glances. A welcome if poignant reminder of just how good DC could be, back before they were reduced to a flailing IP farm for a less engaging remake of The Producers.