Most readers have their own Neon Genesis Evangelion moment, a piece of fiction (in whatever medium) that looks like a disjointed, hollow shell of a story to those who don’t connect to it emotionally from the get-go. A bizarre piece that doesn’t make much sense and that sports cohorts of flustered fans that promote it as the best thing ever, the smartest thing ever, while you can only shake your head and wonder whether they all drunk too deeply from the idiot well.
And then it happens to you. You connect and something that looked merely like bullshit turns out to be a rich vein of ideas, a stunning, resonating piece. It’s like magic, and like most magic it’s about turning water into wine, about turning bullshit through the confluence with your mind, with all the stuff you bring into it into something meaningful (by the way, I hated NGE, so I’ve been on both sides).
Much of Grant Morrison’s comic output falls into that category, especially The Invisibles, The Filth and the Flex Mentallo mini-series. I like these works like there’s no tomorrow, despite that they go against all of my preferences in fiction of any kind. But there it is. More comic reader have heard about the Flex Mentallo mini (and the endless praise for it) than actually read it, but it’s one of those rare examples where the actually comic managed to even exceed the expectations I had. One (pretty valid) interpretation of the mini is that it’s a look at four periods of superhero comics. Another is that it’s a slightly autobiographical piece by Morrison.
What resonated for me were the elements that tried to make the case for superhero comics as something more than just a waste of time. And if you poured countless of time into reading them, you want them to be something meaningful. Really, most people who spend most of their time reading or playing games or something similar solitary want it to matter at the end of the day.
Flex Mentallo manages to take that need and transforms it into a story of a super-reality where superheros are real; who influence our own, drab and mundane world by becoming fictional characters. It’s interesting stuff, to say the least. The strength of it isn’t the story per se, but the emotional effect it has. It’s uplifting without being sappy. And it’s honest in a way that makes you forget just how ridiculous most of it is.
The Entropy Pump 