Remember back when a few mainstream superhero comics aspired to be literature or high art? You know, it was quite a while ago now that I think about it, before so many superhero comics started seeming so much like tv shows or movies, and before the adjective "cinematic" started being used so often to describe them.

Batman & Robin #8 is the latest installment of Grant Morrison's "Batman novel". It began in 2006 with Batman #655, and the roughly the first half of it ended with the "R.I.P." storyline a little over a year ago. Several times in interviews Morrison himself has described what he's writing as a "Batman novel", but I think it's more illuminating to point out that it isn't just any novel; it's more like a Modernist novel. It's more in line with the literature of several 100+-year-old authors whose names, these days, are hated on sight by many people. Morrison’s Batman run is more like a novel by Woolf, Joyce, Faulkner or Proust. It's difficult and not everyone will be able to like or understand it. It doesn't cater to the audience; it challenges the audience to learn how to read it.

It's not the sort of novel that a Stephen King or a Tom Clancy would write. In other words, just as Morrison's Batman is distanced from other superhero comics of its day, as a "novel" it's also distanced from most well-known contemporary novels. It doesn't go down easy. It doesn’t aspire to someday earn the ultimate "honor" of being turned into a film, as if no work of fiction in our society is legitimate until it has been turned into a movie. No, like Modernist novels--and like any other art that's aware of its own particular strengths--Morrison's Batman does not proceed as it were a second-rate version of the movie that could be made from it.

It is a static, written and drawn work, and its contents play to those strengths. It is meant to be carefully read, even more carefully reread, thought about, flipped back through, puzzled over and discussed. It is not a closed work; you can't "close the book" on any chapter as soon as the latest issue comes out--because, time and time again, the next issue will cause you to reevaluate what was important in many of the previous issues.

Its difficulty seems at first to be an obstacle, but for the reader willing to meet the challenge, Morrison's Batman is EMPOWERING: I feel empowered when I learn to navigate these difficult waters. To give another metaphor: reading and understanding each issue is like climbing a mountain. Not reaching the top of a mountain, but climbing it. There is a joy in meeting the challenge and proceeding to a higher point where you can look back and see where you've come from. You climb upwards and you can see the previous issues with greater perspective. It's a good view. It's a rare sort of view to get, period, much less in mainstream superhero comics.

These pages are NOT meant to be whipped through at the same rate that their story would proceed on a moving screen. They don't even bear rereading at that rapid speed. There's simply too much going on, and there's almost always something new that you're noticing for the first time, thinking about or trying to think about in a new light. You're compelled--almost forced--to stop and think. Once you learn what to look for, this stopping and thinking happens really, really often, and it's a lot of fun. You can almost feel your neurons activating.

While there is surface-level enjoyment to be had (hey, even Hamlet had a swordfighting scene), the real "work" of the storylines--the work Morrison put into them and the work readers can get out of them--demands skill and thoughtfulness. You have to use your brain to get these treasures, because these treasures aren't cheap thrills for everyday enjoyments but rather complicated "poetic" matters that--gosh, how elitist! sorry!--actually take patient brainpower to understand. But you don’t have to be a genius or anything; you just have to be willing to think patiently about what you’re being presented with. It's not for everybody. But for what it is--there's that old disclaimer--it's really, really good.

Batman & Robin #8 opens with a flashback. As a reader, we're disoriented. There's no "voice-over" from Kate Kane. You don’t have Kate spelling everything out for you right off. She's not there on page one telling you "This is how I got involved with these villains in England. I was on the trail of..." etc, etc. No, instead this stuff is left to the reader to figure out. Morrison, then, might lose readers who do not want to do a bit of detective work from the very first panel. But, on the other hand, for those of us who DO like and want to figure this stuff out, Morrison from the very first panel of the very first page ENGAGES us. From the start of the issue, our brains have to start working. And when the reader's brain is engaged like this, the reader is able to begin noticing other interesting bits in Morrison's script.

In the second and third panels Kate's dialogue gives the discerning reader some great "meta" ideas to puzzle over: "What is it with these crime coven people and their obsession with stories for kids?" she asks. Within the narrative of the story, Kate is referring to the minions of King Coal, who in her opinion resemble characters from "Mary Poppins". Kate's also referring back to the "Alice in Wonderland" villain that she faced in Detective Comics recently. These are things from children's stories that seem turned to the dark side. These bad criminals have taken on the imagery of good characters from children's stories. (Hm, that's kinda like the opposite of Batman, a good guy who dresses up like a scary bad guy. More on that later...)

But Morrison is also making a comment on superhero comics: these too are ostensibly "stories for kids" that are often turned seedy and demonic by their authors.

Kate then speaks of the "satanic ninja twist" applied to these children's stories. The adjective "satanic" alone should resonate with careful readers of Morrison's Batman, as Dr. Hurt--the mastermind behind "R.I.P."--was said to be the Devil himself in human form. Kate's comment is about the forces behind the "religion of crime", so yes indeed Morrison really wants to remind us of Dr. Hurt again--he's still out there. That's the narrative level. On the "meta" level, however, Morrison is suggesting that the authors of children's-stories-gone-bad are themselves slightly "satanic". In a sense, Morrison here is calling himself a bit satanic--and this is something he's done before.

Way back in Animal Man #26, the title character met his author. Grant Morrison appeared in-story and told Animal Man: "Someone ELSE creates you to be perfect and innocent and then I step in and SPOIL everything. It's a little bit SATANIC, I suppose." A writer of superhero comics is like a "devil" because he’s the one, ultimately, causing so much trouble for the good guy heroes. In Batman & Robin #8 Morrison makes reference to this concept once again. In effect, he's saying to the careful reader, "You know how Dr. Hurt a/k/a/ 'the Devil' put Bruce Wayne through hell and tried to corrupt his soul? Yeah, Hurt did that to Bruce, but in a sense I did that to him too, because I'm his writer. I killed Bruce Wayne. I'm as much of an evil mastermind as Dr. Hurt is."

To circle back for a moment: Ask yourself who Batman’s creator was. Bob Kane. The crime coven wants Kate Kane because her last name resembles Cain, so they think she’s in some sense demonic. But Morrison’s amusing little line of "meta" allusion about comic creators as "satanic" causes us to think about how Batman, the Dark Knight who looks like a black demon, was created by a guy with an "evil" last name. Kate Kane has to fight bad guys who stalk her because her family name seems demonic. Has Bruce Wayne also been fighting demons because his creator--in some metaphoric sense--was "Cain"? 

What's the point of all this, some might ask? These are poetic concepts, obliquely alluded to by Morrison in just a few words. Some people might not find enjoyment, enlightenment, or amusement in this--but others can. And those of us who can, we get jazzed up about complicated ideas as opposed to just action. We get excited about metaphysical concepts as opposed to just simple fictional characters smiling, quipping, posing, punching and blasting. Not that that stuff isn't good too, but superhero comics can be more. 

On the second page we see Old King Coal. The fact that this IS King Coal isn't broadcast by Morrison. No, again the reader is disoriented, at least at first. "Who is this?" the reader thinks. And the reader is forced to engage deeper, forced to remember what happened in the previous issue. A "King Coal" was mentioned. We know King Coal kidnapped the Pearly King's son. Now on page two of B&R #8, in the flashback we see the Pearly Prince again...so the king in the panel must be King Coal. We're engaged--we're thinking across multiple issues and multiple levels.

Our brain working, ready to think deeper, in the same panel we can tell that King Coal has eight chimney-sweep henchmen. Pearly King is a "white king" because pearls are white. And King Coal is a "black king" because coal is black. The eight henchmen of the black king are like eight pawns of a black king on a chessboard. There is a chess motif going on. In the previous issue Pearly King alluded to King Coal having a wife--thus, we know there's a "black queen" out there, too (he talks to her on the phone later in issue #8; we'll probably see her on-panel in #9). And what's the title of this storyline? "Blackest Knight". What do King Coal's actions result in? The raising from the Lazarus Pit of a "black knight"--the crazy zombie-Batman--whose actions will be in the service of King Coal's evil nature. A black knight is a chess piece to be manipulated.

What is the point of the chess motif? To expand our understanding. Because it's neat. Because it's only the latest in a long line of "game" motifs used by Morrison in his Batman run. In Morrison’s Batman, bad people play conventional games. In Batman #667 and #674 we saw the Black Glove inaugurate evil schemes by spinning a roulette wheel. Joe Chill in Batman #673 and the Joker in the prelude of "R.I.P." were both holding playing cards. Throughout his issues of Batman Morrison kept throwing in a checkerboard patterns of red and black. Throughout Batman & Robin there have been dominoes. And now in this issue Morrison adds the motif of chess pieces. Children's games...but with a satanic twist.

In Morrison's Batman saga, evil people play simple, non-electronic games. As shown in the previous issue, this is in contrast to the high-technology used by normal (good) people. Last issue we were told that the coalmine was a "dead zone" in which mobile phones don't work. And now in the flashback that opens issue #8, we see that Batwoman's communication device starts having problems when she’s underground in the subway tunnel. Motifs, correspondences, themes. (But of all the good guys, who WAS able to use electronic technology to thwart evil? Bruce Wayne was, that's who; he did it with a deceptively simplistic "Bat-Radia" in Batman #681.)

In superhero comics like this, ones with a tremendous amount of real thoughtfulness put into them, it pays to pay attention. You’re rewarded for thinking in depth about the nature of what you’re seeing and reading, and for trying to extrapolate patterns from it all. It’s just neat, and it makes the experience more meaningful.

Still on page two (don't worry, I'm not going to explain the whole issue in this amount of detail--I'd be here forever) King Coal gives some amazingly allusive dialogue. First, he speaks of a "NEW JERUSALEM" that's to arise in England. This is an old concept, but more importantly for my interests here, it's a reference to the English poet William Blake. Blake wrote of a hidden, mystical "Jerusalem" in England, and in the same poem he refers to "dark Satanic Mills". Thus, more devil stuff. (Props to the internet denizen called "rikdad" for pointing out this Blake connection.)

But this is just the latest in a long line of allusions that Morrison has made to English literature throughout his Batman "novel". All you guys who loved how "funny" and "crazy" Professor Pyg was--y'all should realize that he was actually a complicated allusion to George Bernard Shaw's play "Pygmalion". In the second arc of B&R, there was an oft-repeated quote from one of John Milton's poems; the line has religious symbolism; it matters; it helps you better understand the characters, their motivations, what they think of themselves and each other.

Allusions like these make superhero stories more than just children's characters punching each other and stating how evil or good they are. Here, in an issue like this, there's more going on. There are deeper levels at work.

And in the second panel on the second page of B&R #8, King Coal speaks of a "Beast [that]'ll be born". This is ANOTHER British literary allusion. It's an allusion to a poem of W.B. Yeats. The same poem was quoted by Damian in Batman #666. If you're interested, by all means, go and research it. Research all this stuff. It's fun. It makes things more fun and more deep, more literary, more interesting. Morrison's writing (at least in this series) can take this level of close investigation--it's that well thought-out.

STILL on page two, Coal says: "Divvent ye knaa there’s a hole in EVERYTHING". A "hole"? In Batman #681 Dr. Hurt claimed to BE that "hole": "I am the HOLE in things, Bruce," said Hurt, "the ENEMY, the piece that can NEVER FIT, there since the beginning." (There are also "hole" references in Final Crisis, but that’s too complicated to get into here, and this is more about Batman. Final Crisis isn't half as good or as awesome as Morrison's Batman, anyway.)

On page three--where Morrison finally brings us back to the present, for a panel at least--Kate says that she was "on the trail of a religion of sin dating back to the DAWN OF TIME." Hm. Since Darkseid sent Bruce Wayne back to caveman days ("the dawn of time"?), prepare to look for the origin of evil in the first issue of The Return of Bruce Wayne.

"There was some kind of narcotic in the SOOT," Kate says. Oh, sort of like how criminals in earlier issues of B&R were working to perfect an airborne drug? (Everything is connected.)

"Then they put me in that COFFIN…" So Kate was drugged and put in a coffin by enemies who have a "satanic twist". Sort of like what happened to Bruce in Batman #681. With Morrison’s Batman, motifs keep repeating. Similar things happen to slightly different characters. Later on in the issue, Kate will die in Dick’s arms: a Batwoman dies in a Batman’s arms. But that has happened before: see the flashback panel in Batman #682.

At the end of page three, underground near the Lazarus Pit, Dick says: "So much for prophecy. There’s no god of evil in there. Only BATMAN." But ISN'T Batman in a sense sort of like a "god of evil"? In Morrison’s JLA, Batman filled the role of Hades, god of the underworld/underground, in the metaphorical pantheon of superheroes-as-Greek-deities. Batman is the Dark Knight who looks like a black devil. Batman was created by Kane/Cain, and  Dr. Hurt (said to be the Devil) claimed to be Bruce’s father. This stuff is mostly just metaphorical or "poetic", but I think Morrison’s Batman run is ultimately about Bruce Wayne facing the origins of evil, including certain evil influences close to home and close to his identity and imagery as a dark knight.

There’s a lot in this issue. Every installment of this run is so unpredictable. At the end of the previous issue, who could have predicted that the zombie-Batman would hijack a jet and would have beaten up Alfred by the end of issue #8? On many levels, Morrison thwarts readers' expectations. He doesn’t make it easy for us. But he gives us a lot to think about in relatively few pages.

In closing: I read Asterios Polyp last week. It was great. It’s a perfectly put-together volume that utilizes the comics medium. It does things that can’t be done in movies, tv or animation, and those things it does are easy to see because most of them are very visual.

Morrison’s Batman stuff also does many unique things that can’t be done in movies, tv or animation, but its unique qualities are not as obvious because they’re a bit more likely to be word-based rather than image-based. There’s an incredible amount of depth packed into every issue, but this depth isn’t super apparent. The most that’s apparent, to many, is that you can’t whip through an issue and still understand a lot of what’s going on. You have to take your time, study the panels, pay attention to the words, look for key phrases, examine the imagery for key correspondences (“How many chimney-sweep henchmen are there? 1, 2, 3…Okay, I see there’s eight of them. Eight black pawns for a black king. Chess motif.”)

On the other hand, in Batman & Robin there’s usually a pretty cool fight scene or two in every issue also. (I guess some people might consent to like Hamlet just because of the sword fight at the end--it is pretty cool.) And Cameron Stewart does a pretty good job choreographing the action. Oh, but if you know where to look and how to look, there’s so much more going on beneath the surface. This is the deepest superhero comic series currently being published, and it wins by many, many lengths.