#Superhero stuck in quicksand series#
#Superhero stuck in quicksand tv#

#Superhero stuck in quicksand series#

Just as confounding was the revelation that there was not just 1 Clayface but 4, and the one that I did know from the Animated Series was also dead! None of the people named Clayface in this issue particularly resembled the Matt Hagen version I was familiar with. The cover plainly stated RIP ROBIN on the gravestone, no mention of this being any other Robin than the only one I had heard of up to that point, Dick Grayson. How did he die? How could they let him die? I never heard of Jason Todd and at the time it was much harder to look up these kinds of comic book histories online and so I was left to wonder what I had missed that could have led to this. Robin is dead? I couldn’t wrap my head around it. it still succeeds in throwing him off, however, and it results in his capture by the team of Clayfaces, one of whom, Clayface 4, has transformed herself into the dead Robin.Īs a kid, just these initial few pages sent me reeling. Robin appears on the first couple of pages but Batman knows from the start it is not really his dead partner. The striking Norm Breyfogle cover is immediately gripping but ultimately misleading.

#Superhero stuck in quicksand tv#

How could they have killed Robin? He was my favorite part of the tv show! The Batman I knew was never brought so low as what was shown here. In the dimly lit school cafeteria I saw this image of a ghostly Robin tormenting a howling Batman and I could not wait to understand what was happening. Their narratives are always in a perpetual state of becoming, just as we are–the memories of who we were a hazy blur and the trials and victories to come always uncertain. And with superheroes the stories never end, never even really begin. The thrill and wonderment of discovery and curiosity that comes with encountering a new story for the first time. It isn’t a magical memory of a more innocent time that draws me in when I look at that cover, it’s the world it invited me into. Holding Detective Comics 606 predates most of my struggle with Crohn’s Disease and the emotional and physical trials that went along with that. What scattershot recollections I have of simple moments of childhood are often paired with the media and art I was experiencing alongside them. Maybe it’s normal and it’s the same for you. I don’t know if it’s a trauma or physiological response to chronic illness, or just normal getting older, but much of my life before I had my life-altering surgery when I was 19 is pretty hazy. I don’t remember much about my childhood, to be quite honest. My memory is filled with holes but I know that this cover image stopped me in my tracks and I couldn’t wait to go home and read this book. I could not tell you what any of the issues were except for a single story that struck me immediately. There was no rhyme or reason to what was included in that stack of rubberbanded newsprint. I do know that the first Batman comic book I have any memory of owning or reading was one I received in a bundle of old comics given out to kids who attended a grade school roller skating party. They existed in a state of quantum uncertainty, never begun, never ended. So the few comics I did have, isolated issues of random storylines, were read over and over and over again to the point of complete destruction. I never read a complete comic book story arc until I was into my teens. Growing up I didn’t have more than a random issue here or there.

I can’t say that I remember the first comic book I ever read. But, really, Batman has just always been a part of it.

I wish I could say there was a lightning rod moment where the character etched itself into my life. Batman has been a part of my life from before my memory even begins. X-Men might have arrived with bombast and melodrama but Batman etched itself into my consciousness, becoming a part of my very sense of self in a way very few pieces of media could compare. I have less vivid recollections of my first experience with Batman: The Animated Series but Batman was the show that defined my childhood, the ultimate appointment viewing above all other shows, animated or otherwise. I discovered X-Men and Spider-Man through FOX Kids and still remember watching the premiere episode of the former, riveted by the high drama and mournful screams of Wolverine as he watched his funny little friend Morph fry by Sentinel fire. Like every child of the 1990s who ended up reading comics, my path was forged by Saturday Morning Cartoons.