For as much as I love Frank Miller's take on Batman, for as much as I admire Warren Ellis's Transmetropolitan, for as much as I think Geoff Johns kicks all sorts of ass, Jeph Loeb is my favorite comic book writer.
It's impossible for me to not think of my father's death when I think of Jeph Loeb. In fact, I link that enormous event in my life to Batman for a few reasons, not the least of which is that interminable plane ride home after my mom had called me while I was on vacation. I think I will explore that link more at a later date, but for now, just know that in the day after I learned he'd died, I read "The Long Halloween" and "Dark Victory" both. In one day.
That's about 28 issues worth of Batman right there. And it comforted me, and made me feel a little less alone. Mostly because it put me in the headspace of Batman, who had let his life become defined by the death of his parents, but not destroyed, channeling his grief into something greater.
That, I think, is what makes Jeph Loeb such an amazing writer. He frequently uses internal monologue blocks rather than dialogue. There's plenty of dialogue of course, but that consistent expression of the thoughts of the hero, it lets you get into his or her mind. It lets you know exactly what they are thinking and feeling; what they know, what they believe, what they're scared of, if anything, and what they want.
Who is Holiday? Who is The Hangman? Who is Hush?
Written by Loeb and pencilled by Tim Sale, "The Long Halloween" and "Dark Victory" are the unofficial "years two and three", pretty much taking place in the same canonical world as Frank Miller's "Year One". Both stories, as well as Loeb's follow-up some years later with superstar artist Jim Lee* are mysteries. The reader gets to be inside Batman's mind as he shows off those master detective skills. Not only that, you see his insecurities and his fears. Should he trust Jim Gordon and Harvey Dent? Is the genesis of Two-Face his fault? Can he trust a young Dick Grayson? Should he let Dick become Robin? Years later, during the "Hush" story arc, is his solitude a problem? Can he trust the people in his life? Can he trust and love Selina Kyle? Loeb lets you inside Batman's mind like few other writers, and it creates such a emotional attachment to him that when you get to the end of each story, you grasp the full psychological weight of everything that has happened to him and how it affects his life from then on.
*I like Lee's work, but it has its...i don't want to say flaws, but drawbacks. I do love that everyone looks like a pure superhero, with no fat, no soft lines, and no imperfections. But it's not really realistic, either, and all the men essentially have the same face. Sale's art in LH and DV is so amazingly moody and gothic, I absolutely get pulled into the dark world that Gotham City inhabits. It's a scary place I'd never venture if I lived in their world.
His work with Marvel (I'm sure I'm missing some, because I have not read every single story arc in the history of comics but I've read these) frequently seems to focus on grief and regret. "Spiderman: Blue" focuses on Peter's memories of Gwen Stacy. "Daredevil: Yellow" showcases Matt Murdock's memories of his love before Karen Page died. And "Captain America: White" explores Cap's regret at the things he didn't get to say to Bucky before he was killed.
Likewise, his miniseries "Fallen Son" explicitly follows the traditional five stages of grief through five issues of heroes all reacting to the death of Captain America: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Wolverine, the Avengers, Iron Man, Spider-Man and Falcon are all shown reacting to their grief with painful believability. Spider-Man's depression issue is especially heartbreaking as we are taken through all his failures, and made conscious of the fact that he blames himself for every death he has failed to prevent, including Cap's.
Following a similar structure, but stepping away from grief, "Superman: For All Seasons" reunited Loeb and Sale to give four tales of the Man of Steel told from four other perspectives: Pa Kent. Lois Lane, Lex Luthor and Lana Lang. All four of them have different feelings regarding Clark, and they are all written in such a way that we are capable of understanding pride and love as well as hate and fear.
Loeb's style of getting into his character's head is perhaps best exhibited by his run on Superman/Batman. With the first two major arcs (Public Enemies and The Girl From Krypton**) you first see the striking similarities between Batman and Superman, before seeing what makes them so different. Superman's admiration for Batman's almost superhuman abilities is contrasted with Batman's observations about Superman's intense humanity. They trust each other, even when they don't see eye to eye, but recognize that they will forever see the world differently due to their respective childhoods - one filled with love and nurturing, one destroyed in an instant. Loeb's writing excels at exploring this dichotomy.
**as with all Loeb's stories, I became incredibly invested in the newest incarnation of Kara Zor-el. So much so that the moment when she seemingly died at the hands of Darkseid and his omega beams, I audibly gasped, and started to feel a pain in my chest. The grief thoughts hit me. "This can't be. There must be some sort of mistake. I can't believe she's gone. Superman must be in so much pain."
Loeb's ability to get into the head of his main characters allows the reader to so completely assume their point of view that for a while, you can feel like a superhero. You're Batman, supremely confident in yourself, but unsure of those around you; you're Spider-man, happy, but still aching over a death you couldn't prevent. You're Captain America, at ease with your men when the plane carrying you explodes. Other writers show you the adventures of their heroes. Loeb makes you feel the adventure. He makes you the hero.
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