GLR July-August 2023

through trade paperbacks. In 2016’s Midnighter and Apollo , Apollo takes a backseat to his charismatic husband—yet even with the dashing and mercurial Midnighter in the starring role, I confess I found this book dull. Midnighter’s odyssey through hell to rescue Apollo from the demon Neron is a lifeless retread of every infernal cliché of the comics genre. Nevertheless, I am happy to report that Apollo and Midnighter are unmistakably sex-positive. Midnighter, when separated from Apollo, enjoys hookups with other men, and if I’m reading the image right, takes as good as he gives. Who doesn’t love an amoral murder happy Dionysian vers/bottom? Though livelier than Midnighter and Apollo, solo Mid nighter volumes Midnighter: Out and Midnighter: Hard , from 2016, are confusing for readers unfamiliar with Midnighter’s backstory. Nevertheless, I adored the shot of our hero’s Bat symbol briefs in a heap of condom wrappers after an assigna tion, and will keep an eye out for more Midnighter books. No Bat-symbol briefs have been flung by juddering bed frames occupied by Jon Kent, Jackson Hyde, or Tim Drake in their comics as yet, but if the new queer Superman, Aquaman, and Robin have been more demure than Midnighter, each has a charming male love interest. Echoing his dad’s taste in journal istic romance, Jon Kent’s boyfriend is Jay Nakamura, an inves tigative reporter. Nakamura’s sporty magenta hair has been misread as “pink” by most writers, and for traditionalist ones, it’s another reason to be scandalized by the gender-subversive shenanigans at DC Comics. Nakamura was genetically modi fied against his will by the dictator of his island home Gamorra (not Gomorrah), making him impervious to any conceivable

physical threat. “I don’t need you,” he tells Kent, “I’m the one person in the world you don’t have to worry about.” This in version of the awed-mortal-meets-superhero trope startles with its ingenuity. From Cervantes to Coltrane, the ability to trans form a familiar genre into something new has been one of art’s greatest delights, and this holds for popular as well as for “high” art. The waistline of the boyfriend of Jackson Hyde—the ap prentice Aquaman whose ink and pen allure I’ve compared to that of an opera tenor, Hollywood pin-up, or stag film stud—is another transformative surprise. Hyde’s sweetheart Ha’wea is a husky Atlantean lad who might fit into our gay zoological tax onomy as a bear cub—or, given his aquatic habitat, a seal pup. Jackson and Ha’wea exchange a look of fervent devotion while twined in each other’s arms on a full page of Aquaman: The Be coming issue #5. Jackson has the Apollonian figure of a comic book hero or coked-up circuit boy, while Ha’wea has the build of a Sears catalog “husky” model. Robin’s Tim Drake is the only new queer superhero who’s had to retread the cliché of rescuing a paramour. In this episode, Robin’s beau Bernard gets in a few punches of his own—even after escaping the sacrificial altar of a sadomasochistic cult. “I’ve been training,” he tells Tim—decked out in Robin gear—as the two face off against a larger numbers of foes. “You don’t have to fight on your own.” As Robin (Tim) and Bernard fight their way out of an ambush, Bernard mentions that one regret he’ll have if they don’t survive is that he wasn’t able to finish his date with Tim (Robin). Wheels turn in Robin’s head. Not only was he on a date with a boy (a date interrupted by the aforementioned cult), it strikes him that he’d like to continue this date. On the next page, Tim—or Robin in civvies—knocks on Bernard’s door, and the two arrange to enjoy the rest of a now unambigu ous date. If this scenario seems far-fetched, consider the hetero patriarchal programming from which each of us has fought to free ourselves, often with the help of friends and lovers. The cover of Tim Drake: Robin #6 (February 2023) gives us Robin and Bernard enjoying an open-mouth kiss, and another fissure snakes up the concrete edifice of American homophobia. LGBT people looking to renew a youthful romance with DC superheroes would be well-served to explore Tom Taylor’s Su perman : Son of Kal-El ; Brandon Thomas’s Aquaman: The Be coming ; and Meghan Fitzmartin’s DC Pride: Tim Drake Special . Each is beautifully written, and each feels like a dif ferent genre—from Technicolor coming-of-age ( Kal-El ) to baroque melodrama ( Aquaman ) to heartfelt noir ( TimDrake ). Comic book art is a collectivist cooperative of inkers, pencil ers, colorists, and cover artists, and while space forbids me to credit every artist involved in the production of these volumes, John Timms draws Kal-El with wit, Belén Ortega pencils Tim Drake with heart, and Aquaman’ s throng of artists somehow creates consistent characters and a unified æsthetic. So, enjoy. The gauzy but seemingly indissoluble membrane separating our adolescent dreams from expression in print is torn forever. The only reasonable criticism of the new queer su perheroes is that Superman’s son doesn’t sport his red undies on the outside but slides into them before donning his blue leo tard. When the ruddy glow of Superman’s well-packed briefs no longer warms the sky over Metropolis, perhaps America’s cultural landscape really has become a woke wasteland.

“Cary Grant takes acid. Fiction ensues.” Los Angeles Times

Town & Country Pick of the Month

Oprah Daily Best Novel Based on a True Story

“ The Acrobat matches its graceful, stylish subject in style and grace. Delaney has both captured a man we know and given us a character by whom we are constantly surprised.” Darin Strauss , bestselling author of TheQueen of Tuesday: A Lucille Ball Story

Turtle Point Press www.turtlepointpress.com Available everywhere books are sold

TheG & LR

12