In the 21st century comics come in every genre and from seemingly every country. Growing up middle-class in Africa or searching for a vanished son in Iran, covering war zones in Bosnia or imagining the American civil rights movement through the eyes of a teenager, surviving cancer or domestic abuse – the writers and illustrators of the new graphic revolution cover the earth. So when asked to recommend something new that’s worth reading, often I will suggest a trip to the Young Adult section of your local public library, where the Dewey decimal system has decreed that all comics and graphic novels belong.
Of course, many of the books you will find on those shelves are pretty intense, not meant for younger readers at all. But here’s one that, without being shallow, works for a wide audience: Gene Luen Yang and Sonny Liew’s 2014 The Shadow Hero. Yang, an American writer, is probably best known for American-Born Chinese, a smart and witty account of adolescence; Liew, a Malasian illustrator, is the creator of Malinky Robot among other imaginative comics. Both engage thoughtfully and often humorously with questions of cultural and ethnic identity, and The Shadow Hero takes this in new directions.
The Shadow Hero has a double premise. Its young Chinese-American hero, Hank, is encouraged by his mother to pursue a literal version of upward mobility: after being rescued from a bank robber by The Anchor of Justice, a classic cape-and-tights flying man, she whips up a costume and urges her son to become a superhero. Initially she tries to arrange the right kind of convenient accident — cheerfully booting Hank into a puddle of toxic sludge, pleading with him to let a slobbering radioactive dog take “”Just one small bite” — but when no superpowers result, his mother has Hank trained in street fighting by Uncle Wun Too, her old flame. This is initially played for comedy, but then Hank’s shopkeeper father is killed by gangsters. At the funeral, Hank discovers that his father had a secret: he harbored a sacred Chinese spirit in the form of a turtle. This spirit grants Hank a wish: to be invulnerable to bullets so he can fight the evil forces at work in Chinatown. Thus “The Green Turtle” is born.
The story that ensues has all the classic elements of “golden-age” heroic comics, including a salt-of-the-earth cop who must trust the masked hero, a costumed villain, and a mysterious, beautiful woman. And the book The Shadow Hero has, as its title suggests, a secret identity of its own: it is actually a radical reboot of a short-lived WWII character. As Yang tells us in an afterword, the original Green Turtle was created in 1944 by a Chinese-American cartoonist named Chu Hing. Hing’s version fought in China against the Japanese invasion; the first installment of his adventures is reprinted in Yang’s book. Typically for the era, Japanese villains are drawn as crude caricatures, but the Turtle’s ethnic identity remains unclear. His skin , where we can see it, is tinted what Yang calls “an unnatural pink,” and his face is always partially covered by something, an arm or a fold of his cape. Was Hing creating a Chinese-American character, or at least suggesting one? We never get an origin story, although one is repeatedly promised over the character’s brief five-issue run.
Whatever the backstory of the Golden Age Green Turtle, that idea of origins, of belonging, is central to Yang and Liew’s fiction. In less capable hands this would be overwrought, a very special episode, but writer and illustrator dive deeper into our ambiguous fantasies of assimilation by their skillful use of the comics medium and of the trope of the mask. Hank’s interactions with Detective Lawful are a case in point: when the detective complains to the Turtle about “those sneaky slant-eyed bastards,” the three reaction/reverse shot panels that follow focus closely first on Hank’s only partly concealed features, then on Lawful’s shocked expression as he realizes (quote) “You’re one of,” and lastly again on Hank, who puts his fingers to the corners of his own eyes as he repeats the offensive phrase. Hank’s expressions, his mocking gesture, convey a dignity and resignation and humor literally in the face of reflexive racism. Later on, this complex mixture of attitudes will inform Lawful’s character arc: those insulting words “aren’t who you are” says Hank. “Nah, that’s not true,” says Lawful, looking off to the side. “But they’re not who I want to be.”
The last panels of the narrative drive home the point through a revelation that probably shouldn’t come as any surprise to a fan of the Golden Age ethos: his enemies defeated, Green Turtle is approached by The Anchor of Justice, who asks him to be prepared “to bolster our troops.” Floating in midair, about to fly away, the Anchor pauses: “Oh yes! One more thing.” In the next panel, his hands go to his temples, reminding us of Hank’s previous mocking gesture. But instead of distorting his eyes, the Anchor removes his whole face: “I’ve never told anyone this . . . But my parents aren’t from around here, either.” The face under his mask is metallic grey, lined, literally unearthly. Unlike Green Turtle, whose identity is an open secret (thanks in part to his overly proud mother), the Anchor is “passing.” It’s a great conclusion, an example of how much the comics medium can convey in a single panel.