I recently read – more devoured – Gerard Jones‘ breezy, sprawling Men of Tomorrow: Geeks, Gangsters, and the Birth of the Comic Book.

Here’s a Comics Journal discussion thread about the book – it looks like I’m not the only comics lover that found the book gripping.

Jones charts the rise and diffusion of the contemporary American comic book from the 1930s to the present day, and properly uses the tragedy of Seigel and Shuster’s experience as Superman’s creators as the tentpole upon which he drapes an entire socioeconomic history.

His prose is clear and propulsive; the book could be written about nearly any American industry’s 20th century rise, and this is one of its’ great strengths. By carefully showing how comics and periodical publication were tied to and reflected the economic realties of their time and place, the specific story becomes general, allowing the reader to identify with the colorful people Jones depicts.

Jones’ approach is distinct from that of other comics writers and flows from his determination to set his story in the full context of America rampant. Instead of restricting his primary sources to the people of greatest interest to comics fans, the artists and writers and publishers, he spoke to the families and business associates of these people as well, and in so doing, found his way to the men behind the curtain. By asking people who had no exposure to the often-repeated creation myths and anecdotes of self-definition, Jones uncovers some significant and fascinating facts about the first generation of superhero cartoonists.

The single most compelling item is Jones’ discovery that Jerry Siegel, Superman’s creating author, lost his father to an armed robber while in his teens. That’s right – the Batman’s creation myth, apparently crafted independently of Siegel’s life history, somehow is a direct reflection of the creation of Jerry Siegel’s need to invent the Man of Steel.

The book is full of clear-eyed, thoughtful analysis of the lives and characters of people that are almost always offstage in comics writing – from his evenhanded presentation on Frederic Wertham to the life histories of DC’s (then National Periodicals) founders, Harry Donenfeld and Jack Liebowitz. Donenfeld’s ties to bootlegging and the mob, which helped pave the way for the success of the company’s distribution networks are given particular attention. Like the Kennedys, Warner Brothers (which can be seen as having grown from National) owes its’ prominence in part to bootlegging; Batman’s utility belt was paid for with money that Meyer Lansky helped to gather.

The book is completely nonjudgemental on these and many other matters, generally striving to narrate the events associated with these characters with sympathy. I know I’ll still never be able to hear the phrase “Truth, Justice and the American Way” quite the same way again.

Others have noted that the books is practically a required companion to Chabon’s monumental Kavalier & Clay. I concur. The book is worthy of its’ companion in every way.