Polarity continues to be a slightly uneven but ceaselessly entertaining metaphorical romp through mental illness. Bemis struggles with the superhero/supervillain twists in his metaphor, which are often awkward and stilted, but he excels in his character development and ordinary dialogue.

Tim’s short-lived career as a hipster-hero “reluctantly making it safe to be a douchey indie rocker in a gentrified former ghetto” is delightful, a combination of wish fulfillment, and self-aware sense of humor more superhero stories could employ. Tim is painfully aware that a large proportion of his fellow Brooklyn-ites and the rest of his generation are vapid and superficial, or at least so painfully insecure that they buy in to the vapid and superficial, but his superhero mission, whatever else it may be, is fundamentally optimistic and generous. This attitude, seemingly jaded but actually hopeful, makes Tim—and Bemis—infinitely more likeable.

His burgeoning relationship with Lily is sincere, one which Bemis readily acknowledges is based on his own with his now wife. Likewise, Tim’s tumultuous friendship with his childhood bestie, Adam, who unfortunately has had to weather several of Tim’s manic episodes, is perfectly rendered. These two relationships anchor the entire series, as well as Tim himself. The final few twists in Polarity #3 take the short series in an unexpected direction, one that jars the pace and potentially disrupts some of the very good things Bemis had developed. Though I’m not certain I like these twists, which I certainly don’t think Bemis fully earned, I don’t want to entirely dismiss them. After all, nearly every good superhero story——metaphor or not——needs a real villain, and, like them or not, I’m still eager to see how Bemis wraps up these rapid new developments.