I had a vague sense that Morrison was a brainy guy with an appetite for biting the hand that feeds, but otherwise came to Supergods with an open mind. Aside from All-Star Superman and a recent Batman trade I don’t know his work.
I’ve been blacked out like one of the Red Skull’s Sleepers for the last couple decades and have missed most of Grant Morrison’s career. Grant Morrison’s Supergods promises it will reveal “What masked vigilantes, miraculous mutants, and a sun god from Smallville can teach us about being human,” but a better subtitle would be, “What 400 pages of a meandering comics memoir can teach us about being Grant Morrison.” At times sharply-written but ultimately flabby and self-indulgent, Supergods sings when it deconstructs beloved superheroes only to lose drive, relevance, and credibility when it veers into an account of Morrison’s personal drug-fueled vision quest.
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