First published in 1986, The Dark Knight follows an aging, retired Batman in a dystopian future (inexplicably, Reagan is still president) as he faces his own mortality and is drawn back to the cape and cowl. But rereading it as an adult, I felt a surprised, grudging admiration. Its thrill-seeking, bloodthirsty sadist was definitively not my Batman. The first time I read Frank Miller's Batman: The Dark Knight Returns, I dismissed it in just that way. Whenever I came across a Batman who was misogynistic, needlessly brutish or prone to cracking terrible jokes, I simply filed it under Not My Batman. He outwits and disarms his opponents one by one, prefers fear and technology over fists. My Batman inflicts a lot of psychological torture, but he remains fundamentally the good guy - moral, principled and triumphant. (I dabbled in the whiny adolescence of Spider-Man and the race parables of X-Men, but neither held my attention the same way.) Since Batman changes across decades, universes, writers and artists, I created two distinct mental categories: Batman and my Batman. Growing up, I loved Batman, almost exclusively. One comic book hero remains a guilty pleasure. No one hides in the corner, and I read comics without shame - almost. Now, as an adult, I live partially in Seattle and partially on the Internet, two places where comics and graphic narratives are as respected and celebrated as any other medium. We guiltily pored over the spandex-covered torsos and gore-splattered pages in separate corners. I never saw other kids there - only adults and teenagers, who came alone and seemed furtive and abashed. When I was a kid, my local comic book store was a seedy, subterranean hole. Your purchase helps support NPR programming. Close overlay Buy Featured Book Title Batman Subtitle The Dark Knight Returns Author Frank Miller, Klaus Janson, et al
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