Top 10 Best Superhero Comic Book Single Issues

If you're an avid comics reader, you'll no doubt have noticed the industry trending towards a newer model of consumption. Once upon a time, you might pick up Doom Patrol number whatever and read the entire thing but never pick up the next issue of Doom Patrol. It was the same way you might see one episode of a sitcom and never another. But, just as television must now conform to the streaming and binging models, so too must the humble comic book. These days you'll notice a lot of what's called "writing for the trade."

If you're new to comics you might not know what that means. A trade paperback is a small collection of between 6 to 12 issues of a comic book run. Ideally, they tell one or two complete cohesive storylines. You can think of them like a season of TV. Writing for the trade, then, is a practice which puts the importance on the trade paperback instead of the individual issues.

For some people that's probably a sad thing to hear. Picking up a small magazine-like comic book at random is a key aspect of the culture to a lot of comic lovers. The confusion, headcanons, and the admiration that come with that were pivotal to getting a lot of people into the hobby. To learn that that aspect of the art form has been put on the backfoot can make one melancholic.

But have no fear! There is still a cavalcade of single issues every year that blow any trade out of the water. Not to mention, you can always go back and re-read old favorites. I've read my fair share so, for the single-issue lovers out there, I'm happy to compile a list. Now, this is all my personal opinion, and it can only come from my own experience. Luckily, at 25 I've read every single issue of every comic ever and perfectly aligned my own opinions with objective fact. So, get ready for a list full of beauty and magnificence that'll make you say, "Holy Recency Bias Batman!" WE'RE COUNTING DOWN! THE TOP 10 BEST SUPERHERO COMIC BOOK SINGLE ISSUES OF ALL TIME!!

(If I only ever read it as a trade or an omnibus, it can't go on the list. Sorry, Watchmen.)

10) Thunderbolts # 151 - Ghost Story

(Jeff Parker, Keb Walker)

There's a lot of talk around the Grizzled Comics watercooler these days about what makes a good ghost story. Must they be horror stories? Is there not an almost romantic element of longing and mourning inherent to the ghost? What is there to be said for the gothic influence? And what of the ghost themselves? Ought they be malicious? Enticing? Enigmatic? Thunderbolts # 151 takes all these questions and simply answers "yes."

The Thunderbolts are a team that, dare I say, Marvel has never really known what to do with. Perhaps it's my love of "Team on a mission" type stories, (Predators, The Suicide Squad, etc.) but the only version I really connected with was Jeff Parker's. Here Luke Cage is recruited to lead a group of supervillains who the government believes show a strong possibility at reform. Sometimes they're right, sometimes they're laughably wrong. Of course, in the end we learn that reform was never the goal. But it doesn't stop some people from becoming better all the same. I'm a sucker for that kind of thing.

Something I love about Parker's Thunderbolts is that it takes a sympathetic eye to characters who are otherwise staggeringly one-note if they're ever shown at all. Easily the greatest example of this is the niche Iron Man villain Ghost. Ghost is an anti-capitalist conspiracy-minded cyborg, once presumed dead, who can now levitate, walk through walls, and "speak" to computers. A ghost in the machine, a ghost come to life, a guy with ghost-based powers for seemingly no reason. It reads to me as a classic case of coming up with the name first.

But all the same, Ghost comes out as the most endearing character in Thunderbolts. Even his neurotic need to "uncover" elaborate conspiracies comes off as kind of adorable. He's like a dog, proud at vanquishing the dangerous mailman. For a long stretch of this book, he's nothing more than an interesting side character. For a long stretch of this book, that's all he needs to be. But issue 151 comes at a turning point for the series.

Just before this a major prison break left the Thunderbolt team at their lowest point. Soon after this, the book will eschew its "mission of the week" format altogether in favor of a singular, larger, overarching plot. A vital part of that transition is a subtle tonal change in the book. What was once a deceptively funny read becomes more and more serious. Though there was always a vein of drama running through Parker's Thunderbolts, it will now become the full meat of the book. Ghost's transformation from a comedic foil to a tragic figure is emblematic of that.

This issue is Ghost's origin story, as told by the man himself. Though still subject to Ghost's own peculiar fascinations, the story presents a tragic and haunting portrait of a broken man. Once outstanding in his field, the company he worked for ensured his loyalty by secretly paying one of their employees to have a romantic and sexual relationship with him. One day, she decided she wanted more money for pretending to love a man like him. Instead, she was killed. In grief, the man who would become ghost learned the truth, but not before a tragic accident befell him. Presumed dead, he utilized the technology he had developed to haunt and kill the board members who had transgressed him. The unraveling of the conspiracy cemented his growing paranoia. The fake relationship convinced Ghost that he was truly unlovable. He is no longer capable of seeing reality through an objective lens.

Though not the most revolutionary story, it showcases a mastery of the form. Comics keep getting shorter and, thanks to the gothic inspired framing device here, Ghost's actual story doesn't even use the entire issue. The tone is impeccable from start to finish. Even before Ghost starts talking the world feels oppressive and dreary. The life of a prisoner is a bleak one after all. Parker presents The Raft super prison the same way Bram Stoker presented his Seward Sanitorium. Though only around five pages long, Ghost's hauntings are dripping in an eerie atmosphere. Before that, a sense of suspicion grows quietly within the reader only to have the sudden death of Ghost's girlfriend lull them into a false sense of relief. It makes the discovery of her true nature all the more devastating.

There's a lot to love about Parker's writing. If I was to create a top 10 marvel runs of all-time list, his Thunderbolts would be near the top. But it's his command of tone and pacing that lands him a spot on this list today.

9) Hawkeye # 11 - Pizza is My Business

(Matt Fraction & David Aja with Matt Hollingsworth)

It's a good time to re-read this one folks, Marvel's new editor-in-chief is credited on this issue as "Dog Whisperer." Of course, if you're anything like me, you'll re-read the whole omnibus around December.

You're not going to see many "gimmick" comics on this list. I find the gimmick is usually the strongest part of the story. We're looking for single issues that are totally well rounded. Something that works on its own and as a part of a larger whole, which is unique amongst the sea of amazing comic books and which showcases the best the medium/genre has to offer. Certainly, I'd say Hawkeye # 11 fits that bill.

The gimmick on display here is that we're following Lucky; The Pizza Dog as he investigates a murder. But, of course, Lucky's just a normal dog. He can't speak, he only understands a few words in human language, he has no context for most of the world around him, and his greatest asset is his sense of smell. Here, speech bubbles are essentially useless. While a few keywords, such as Lucky's own name, are clearly visible, the majority of human speech is totally illegible. Instead, we have scent bubbles. Pictographic representations of scents that Lucky picks up on throughout his day.

Famously this book plays fast and loose with the linear passage of time. However, Lucky's presence in multiple storylines makes this issue essential to understand the order of events throughout the series. Another characteristically ballsy move from Fraction and Aja actually allows the reader to solve some of the book's biggest mysteries if they can correctly intuit the meaning behind some of the more enigmatic scent bubbles on display. These are plot points that won't be revealed to readers for months, even over a year in the future.

Beyond the issue's contributions to the series as a whole there's still a lot on display. Fraction has a certain brand of charming relatability to his characters that comes through stronger in Lucky here than it does in some humans in the book. Readers become instantly invested in Lucky. In less than 25 pages, the story explores death, heartbreak, isolation, confusion, and failure in more depth than some entire adult series do. The stakes also become considerably darker here than most mainline comics would dare to approach. Pizza is My Business presents an engaging thriller through the most unusual of lenses without ever seeming trite.

Also, this issue is a parody of Anatomy of A Murder!?!? Brilliant.

8) Uncanny X-Men # 207 - Ghosts

(Chris Clairemont, John Romita Jr & Dan Green)

This is the least stand-alone entry on this list by far. A little under half of the page count is devoted to reminding the reader of the events that have transpired in the series leading up to this moment. For that reason, I had a lot back and forth on if this issue should take the number 9 spot or not. Ultimately, you can see I've put it at number 8. That's because Ghosts does something that Pizza is My Business, by its nature, cannot do. It focuses on complex characterization over plot dynamics.

When I was in film school I was called upon many times to defend the Superhero genre. A point I always returned to was that a worthwhile Superhero story had to also be an intense character study. Behaving like a superhero isn't normal, it's actually vindicative of something having gone horribly wrong. There's a lot of meat to sink your teeth into if you can allow things to become more three-dimensional.

It was Clairemont's seemingly instinctual understanding of this that elevated X-Men into the gold standard of superhero comics. There are larger storylines that demonstrate his handle on that idea better than Ghosts does. However, there is no single issue that better demonstrates his mastery. (Yes X-girlies, Lifedeath comes close, but it's only one third of a larger story. Ghosts stands on its own.)

Consider the main character of this issue: Rachel Grey. She is a psychic from the dystopian future. She is also the child of a man who has left the book and a woman who died without being pregnant. She has two forms that she switches between, one of a cosmic starlight deity, the other of a "hound." A hound, in this context, is a mutilated mutant (mutated by a combination of radiation and evolutionary biology, of course) who hunts down other mutants for the government. In the wrong hands you can see how that's a bit silly. But Clairemont approaches her with a serious dramatic lens, taking into consideration the politics and themes of the book. Under that light, Rachel becomes a refugee from a sort of holocaust she was forced to perpetrate against her own people. She has come here in search of a family she now understands she will never find. Though she is capable of wonderous acts, the only way she can view herself is as one of history's most despicable monsters.

It is that view of herself which spurs her on in Ghosts. She has become plagued by nightmares in which her friend, Wolverine, is trying to hunt down and kill her. Due to her psychic nature, these nightmares make her a danger to the people around her. In order to prove to herself that she is not a monster, she sets out to kill a woman named Selene. Selene is a long-lived woman who has become a prolific killer in her old age. She savagely killed a man who was protecting Rachel when she first arrived here. Wolverine, upon hearing of this, sets out to stop Rachel by any means necessary.

Over the course of the issue, we come to understand that Selene's killings are not senseless but necessary to her survival. Just as Rachel would have been killed if she had not hunted down her people, Selene too would die a painful death if she did not take the lives of others. Furthermore, in a crushing scene, it is revealed that Rachel does not know the name of the man Selene killed while Selene knows every detail of his life. This does not deter either woman. As Wolverine bears witness, he begs Rachel not to act. Though both have been killers both for and against their will, this is murder. The issue boldly ends as it began, with Rachel dead at the hands of the only person who could truly understand her.

There is a damaging myth at the heart of the Superhero genre. It says that violence is redemptive. Here Clairemont explores that idea and comes down against it. By following three people both victim and perpetrator we are treated to a tragedy of an almost Shakespearian sentiment.

7) G.O.D.S. # 8 - The Fourth Axis

(Jonathan Hickman, Valerio Schiti)

What's a top 10 list without a little controversy? For as much excitement as I saw leading up to Hickman's G.O.D.S., I've heard shockingly little about it since its release. Doubly shocking since, if I can speak less eloquently for a second, that book was really good you guys. Like really good.

The Fourth Axis serves as the finale to G.O.D.S. but, I feel, can also be taken quite well on its own. Some of you may read this list and decide to read these issues in isolation. After doing so, you may return here to tell me that The Fourth Axis is actually very confusing without having read the rest of the series. To that, I would say that actually the entire book is exactly as confusing as that issue with or without context. It's part of the appeal.

The series that Hickman's G.O.D.S. reminds me of most is Hickman's run on S.H.I.E.L.D. In fact, rereading both series for this list has convinced me that that's on purpose. I'll write a very long post someday about all of Hickman's work at Marvel. For now, suffice it to say that you get to a point with both series where they just stop explaining things to you. Some of these things may be knowable if you're an avid Marvel Comics fan. Some of these things are brand new story elements whose meaning your expected to derive based on their function in the narrative. Either way, it's up to you. Some readers may find this to be a horribly antagonistic experience. I find it quite rewarding myself.

The Fourth Axis makes it onto this list for its beautiful marriage of form and content.

This issue tells the story of Wynn, an immortal man whose chosen duty to the mystic arts over chances at happiness, betterment, or fulfilment. He finds himself at a moment that could be considered the end of time or reality and decides that he regrets the way he's lived. As he journeys backwards, forwards, and sideways through time, we get a view of the various lives he's lived and the actions that have made him into the person he is. All the while, at the back of his mind, there gnaws a mystery. Why do people keep telling him it's for the best that he can't remember the last 80 years?

This would be a compelling story on its own, but The Fourth Axis becomes elevated by the way the reader is forced to interact with the comic. You can only read it on your phone. G.O.D.S. # 1-7 are all available in physical release. You can go down to your local comic shop and buy a copy. G.O.D.S. # 8, however, is exclusive to the Marvel Comics streaming app Marvel Unlimited. It's what's called an "Infinity Comic." Mobile exclusive comics with no page breaks designed to fit the aspect ratio of a smart phone and to be scrolled through instead of flipped through.

There's a stigma around the infinity comic, but I think Hickman here really shows us what the medium can be used for. As Wynn begins his journey through time, he is very deliberately shown falling down into a massive vortex. For the rest of the issue, as the reader scrolls downwards, panels alternate from the right to the left side of the screen. We too are falling down the proverbial rabbit hole with Wynn.

Furthermore, because there are no page breaks, it's exceedingly difficult to tell how far along in the story you are. This issue is filled with moments that would all be natural conclusion both to this story and to the book as a whole. None of them are especially happy, but they are all fitting. And yet! No matter how many rock bottoms Wynn hits, we go down even further.

Ironically, the "lowest" moment is the only happy memory of Wynn's that we're allowed to see. Before that, the closest we get is a silent taste of melancholia on the moon. It is here that Wynn is offered the chance to erase the life he's lived in order to the live the life he wishes he had. His answer is never given and almost impossible to guess.

I've always said that comics are a medium with a mind-blowing amount of elasticity and potential. Here, Hickman is able to unlock a new avenue of emotional connection, despite the perception of the medium. It's one of the things he does best.

6) Immortal Hulk # 31 - REMEMBER?

(Al Ewing, Joe Bennet, Javier Rodriguez)

There's a lot to love about Al Ewing's reimagining of The Hulk. It's what got me back into comics after a hiatus in my teen years. I remember thinking it was the first superhero book that truly captured the modern age. In a world where Disney has made Marvel the face of the establishment, Ewing's Immortal Hulk returns to the counter-culture roots that have helped to mythologize the marvel pantheon.

There are many issues from this run that I considered putting here. The first issue is a terrifying reintroduction to a character who is no longer family friendly. (If he ever was to begin with.) Just a few issues before this one follows a young political activist inspired by the Hulk's mission, and her father who feels it is his patriotic duty to kill her. In the end, though, I find my mind returning most to REMEMBER?

This issue also sees the return of an old school Marvel monster, Xemnu! He's an alien creature that infects your memories. Do you have happy memories baking pies in the kitchen with your mother? WRONG! You have happy memories baking pies in the kitchen with your Xemnu. This issue sees the first machinations of Xemnu as he attempts to replace all superheroes, especially The Hulk, with himself. He does this on behalf of the oil company/media conglomerate Roxxxon, so that people might become so caught up in their own nostalgia as to become docile to their impending deaths.

Beyond that novel Dr. Who-esque idea, the issue is also the first time I remember feeling that cisgender writers (indeed, cisgender people as a whole) could understand transgender people beyond the surface level. This issue follows Dr. McGowan, a chemist making illegal drugs and a victim of Xemnu. Her life changing memories have been warped and her existing relationship with The Hulk has been stripped from her mind. Instead of lulling her into memories of her youth, it calls back a youthful terror. She knows that the world around her is wrong. She can feel, intrinsically, that the way she interacts with reality has been altered by forces she cannot perceive. Though she does not have the knowledge to identify the source, she knows that there's something inside of her that is not aligned with the world she lives in. It is that gut feeling that leads her, and only her, back to The Hulk, back to the dreams of a better world, back to the life she fought to have.

Immortal Hulk is a special book to a lot of people. It's rare that you can get such a clear sense of the many ills of the world. Rarer still that you can find somebody aware of and willing to discuss without fear how they are connected. It is rarest of all that in these spaces hope still prevails. That's the heart of REMEMBER?. That's a testament to the best that these stories can be. And its only number 6.

Also worth mentioning; I cannot stop thinking about Kingpin expanding his illegal drug empire by adding black-market HRT. Trans ally Wilson Fisk.

5) Starman # 11 - 13 Years Ago: Five Friends, A Tale of Times Past

(James Robinson, Mathew Dow Smith, Gregory Wright)

There are many, many issues of Starman that disserve a place on this list. James Robinson's Magnum Opus on the superhero genre, Starman is simply on another level. Breaking convention and embracing the often-disregarded aspects of the world it came out in, you can feel this books influence all across the entertainment industry to this day. Certainly, there are tones of it present in Hawkeye and Immortal Hulk.

The series follows the bohemian Jack Knight as he is reluctantly forced, through a death in the family, to take up his disapproving father's mantle as the WW2 era superhero Starman. Jack is a pop-culture obsessed ironically dethatched gen x poster child. His father, Ted, is a classic all-serious "kids these days" type baby boomer. This issue represents one of the first moments that serves to bring the two closer together.

Jack shows up one day with a picture of an old supervillain on his T-shirt. The villain's name is Ragdoll, a sort of Ragedy Andy looking man. The shirt upsets Ted, who goes on to recount an encounter with the seemingly funny villain.

Once upon a time, Ragdoll was major figure in the world, exercising a kind of political or religious control over groups of people who chose to follow him. Essentially, he led what we would today understand as an accelerationist cult. They perform depraved acts of violence under the belief that the world is cruel and that the only respite is death. This issue sees that mindset overcome Opal city as neighbors, friends, and loved ones savagely tear each other limb from limb.

What separates Starman # 11 from any number of cringe-worthy edgelord fantasies is its emphasis on compassion. The vast majority of action stories would present the Ragdoll Cult to us as an impassible horde of zombie-like figures. Indeed, the massive crowds are faceless and nameless. Disconnecting them from their humanity would be as easy as doing nothing. But Robinson is uninterested in a story that does nothing. Here, the Ragdoll Cult is (accurately, in my opinion) presented as a group of people in need of help. Their depression has turned to disaffection has turned to rage has turned to murder/suicide. There were steps along that road where they could have been turned around if they only had help. Their deaths are as tragic as the deaths of their victims.

Instead, the onus for their actions lay with Ragdoll himself, the man who has encouraged and radicalized them. Even his death doesn't stop what he did to these people. Though the cult is not blameless, is not free from the consequences of their actions, they are still as human as anybody else.

This issue released in 1995, five months after the Oklahoma City Bombing. For context that's four years before Columbine, six years before 9/11. We live in a world of tragedy today, at least in the United States. Children are radicalized into Nazism. There are mass killings every day. We are getting poorer, more desperate, and more hopeless by the hour. Neighbors, friends, and loved ones are savagely destroying each other in their homes, schools, and holy places. In the minds of a lot of people my age, it started with those three events. But that's not true. You can see it here, before then.

Part of why this story resonates is because we can see facets of real tragedy in it. The terror that it displays hits home in a way that somebody like The Joker or Thanos never could. Accelerationism is on the rise in the United States Today. Beyond that though, Starman # 11 says that there is a world past tragedy.

Importantly, this story is a memory. Not everybody survived, nobody was the person they were before, but people do still persist. There is a way forward. We often hear of the power of love. It is an axiom that can sometimes rings hollow. Here, it is the only reason to continue in a bleak and careless world.

4) All-New Guardians of The Galaxy # 5 - Across the Universe

(Gerry Dugan, Chris Samnee, Matthew Wilson, Corey Petit)

I've read every issue of Guardians of The Galaxy that has come out since the team was brought into the modern era. (Full disclosure, I'm a bit behind on Imperial Guardians.) With whatever authority that gives me, I'd like to say that I think Gerry Duggan writes the book the best. There are other writers that I like more for certain characters, but nobody I like more for the book as a whole. It's a refreshing look at these people, and this universe, that's able to blend together the films and the comics in a way nobody else has yet achieved. It's charming, it's bombastic, it's heartbreaking, and it's uplifting, sometimes all at once.

A particular highlight for me are the single-issue flashback stories which follow individual members of the team. All of them are worthy of a spot on this list, but I'm trying to limit myself to one series and one writer. It was a tight race between this issue, an issue exploring Drax's newfound oath of nonviolence, and Gamora's renewed connection to the soul gem. But in the end, I think Across the Universe best exemplifies what we're talking about here.

The issue follows Star-Lord. After a run-in with the law, he's damaged his favorite cassette tape. What's on the tape in question is saved until the end, but we know it's a beloved radio broadcast from his childhood. But how could he hope to replace a specific radio show? Easy. By their nature, radio broadcasts project out from earth through the cosmos for decades. All Peter has to do is tune his equipment to the right channel and travel far enough that he can "catch up" to the broadcast in question.

Not only is that one of the most perfect ideas I've ever heard for a sci-fi short story, but it's also a story that would feel lesser than if it had been told with another character or franchise. I'll have to spoil the reveal here if I want to discuss the story properly, but you may wish to click off and read the issue on your own if you want to be pleasantly surprised. Although, you may be able to guess where this is going already.

The song that Peter's so desperate to get back is the Beatles' "Across the Universe." More than that, it's played as a tribute to John Lennon, just seconds after the radio DJ has been informed of Lennon's shooting and death.

At this point in my read through of the Guardians comics, Peter had begun to feel like a very cyclical character to me. He made the same mistakes, in the same ways, to the same results, over and over again. He is forever trapped in an idealized past that can even be as recent as literally yesterday. Cursed forever to look behind him and learn nothing, it feels as though there's something missing within Star-Lord. It's an idea that later writers, especially Al Ewing, will expand upon. Across the Universe, though, is the first time that this subtextual aspect becomes text. In the macro sense, it is profoundly sad.

Yet still! Star-Lord is not what I would call an unhappy character. There is an Aeroll Flynn like, roguish quality to him. He's charismatic, lighthearted, and downright chipper. He's closer to a stoner comedy than a dramatic tragedy. Duggan's run starts him on the long path to maturity, but in this issue, Star-Lord is still very much in a state of arrested development. Lesser writers would say that this is a dichotomy that works best when unexamined. Here Duggan squares the circle beautifully.

First, I want to talk about the song "Across the Universe." This is one of Lennon's most spiritual songs. It's very connected to transcendental meditation. It even has its own mantra: Jai Guru Deva Om. Worth saying out loud, although you probably already know, transcendental meditation requires the repetition of these mantras. The rest of the song reflects that. You get these dreamy poetic verses followed by the repeated Sanskrit mantra from above. However, there's a second mantra that's repeated even more. "Nothing's gonna change my world." I know there are a lot of people who are comforted by that phrase, but I personally find it horrifically damning. Finally, you have the title phrase "Across the Universe." It's repeated at the end of many lines, but it always ends before the tonic note, so the melody never sounds complete. It's a cyclical song which feels comforting to experience but, under a more critical lens, can become something tragic. It's a really perfect fit.

Also, I would like to speak about the structure of the issue. If you're a big, dumb story nerd, like me, there's a lot to dig into. You're probably familiar with the basic story structures; the hero's journey, the 3 acts, the 2 acts, maybe even the 5 acts and the 8 sequences. These structures rely on conflict. Infact, you've probably been told ALL stories rely on conflict. In the sense that conflict means tension, this is true. In the sense that conflict means some form of confrontation, this is false. There is shockingly little confrontation in this issue. Even Star-Lord admits that the stakes are shockingly low. He can stream any song he wants at any time. Peter is not on some heroic journey. Though one could place act breaks, they wouldn't correspond to their pre-assumed functions.

That's because this story is far more reminiscent of Ursula K. Le Guin's "Carrier Bag" form of fiction. Here we do not move from beginning to middle to end. (Although we still may, by happenstance.) Instead, the story exists to hold items, vignettes, and emotions, all interconnected. It's less something you plot out on a chart and more something you feel in your soul. Some people have claimed that makes this a more "authentic" way to tell stories, but I wouldn't go that far. Either way, it's clearly on display here.

The journey across the universe is a journey through Peter's memories. If we want to understand why he holds this recording so close to him, we must also understand what else he values. Repeatedly it is not material goods, it is connection with others. It is the memories that they form together. In this sense his fixation on the past is no longer tragic, it is an expression of his love. Similarly, that spiritual need inside of him disappears as he listens to this song which so perfectly captures him. As John Lennon repeats his mantras, Peter is the closest he's come so far to enlightenment.

I would also like to discuss how this issue calls to mind John Darnielle's philosophy of writing through implication. I'm not gonna do that though. This entry is already twice as long as all the others.

3) Animal Man # 5 - The Coyote Gospel

(Grant Morrison, Chaz Truog, Doug Hazelwood, Tatjana Wood)

Do you like Looney Tunes? Yeah? YOU SICK FUCK! That is a hard-working Coyote! He just needs to eat! Everybody does! Is it his fault that God plays with him for amusement!? FOR YOUR AMUSEMENT! They're torturing him! Jesus Christ! That anvil fucking killed Wile E. Coyote! Somebody has to tell his Wile E. Wife!

2) Action Comics # okay, okay. I'll do it for real.

3) Animal Man # 5 - The Coyote Gospel

(Grant Morrison, Chas Truog, Doug Hazelwood, Tatjana Wood)

I spoke in my last post about how special a Grant Morrison comic could be. I think Animal Man is where most audiences first understood that. Animal Man is an old DC comics character and an extremely unimportant one. He can gain the power set of whatever animal is nearby. Not much under the hood there. But that's not how comics fans know him. To the avid reader, Animal Man is known for its mind-bending narrative, deep philosophical questions, and quasi-psychedelic visual style. That's because, when they're thinking of Animal Man, they're thinking of this issue.

Morrison's run on Animal Man famously ends with the character in conversation with Morrison himself. Animal Man begs to know why Morrison would kill off his family and put him through so much emotional torture. Morrison tells him that it simply makes the book more interesting to read. It's odd, because when the book starts, it's fairly straightforward, if a little quirky, superhero fare. The transition occurs here.

For those of you who may be unaware, a brief recap. Out in the desert, a truck driver hits and kills an odd creature which looks something like a coyote crossed with a man. The truck driver is too scared to stop the car. If he had, he would have known that the coyote-man had already returned from the dead. Fast forward a year. Our Animal Man gets into an argument with his wife about them eating too much meat. Classic stuff, one must assume, for a guy named Animal Man. Fed up and angry, Animal Man steps outside and goes for a little flight to cool off.

Meanwhile, in the past year, our truck driver's life has fallen apart. He's convinced himself it's all the fault of that coyote creature. The coyote, he tells himself, is satanic. The coyote, he vows, must die. But no matter what he does, shoot it, burn it, cut it to pieces, the coyote comes back fine. Finally, he attempts the kill the coyote with a grenade. Though both are caught in the blast, only the truck driver is killed.

This is when Animal Man comes in. The coyote attempts to communicate but Animal Man is clueless. We the audience, however, learn the truth. This is Wile E. Coyote. Not literally, there are copyright laws. But he's as close as they could get at the time and the intention is clear. All those painful deaths he experienced at the hand of the Road Runner? Well, they were real enough to him. Terrified and tired, the coyote confronted his God, the artist. Appalled by his gall, the artist cast him from his home.

In the end, the coyote does die one final death. In the most resonant image from the series, we see a hand come down to paint in the image of his blood.

We're going to hit a problem here with the top 3 entries. It's going to be very hard for me to say something that you haven't heard a million times. These are poignant books whose influence is felt far and wide. A million people can give you a million different reactions to The Coyote Gospel. Many of them already have.

It's a borrowed observation from documentarian Dan Olsen that Pink Floyd's The Wall has a strange effect on people. No matter how you react to it, it's telling of you as a person. I view The Coyote Gospel the same way. If you love it, if you hate it, if it scares you, if you think it's silly, if you refuse to interact with it at all, if you do not give an honest response, that's far more about you than it is about the book. The cynics in the audience will say that's true of anything. In the broadest possible terms, I suppose that's true. The Coyote Gospel, though, is revealing on a deeper level. Like The Wall it exists in that recess of the mind where reality is less what a thing is and more how a thing makes you feel.

The parallel that the book is attempting to make is to the meat industry. However, there are countless social and societal parallels that could be drawn. Some of you will be confused when I say this, but there are people out there in the world who don't feel that they're real. People who look at themselves as fictitious characters moving through a different, more real, reality. Their pain, their suffering, it is palatable to them because it makes the book of their life more interesting to read. But nobody else is reading it, only them. When I see a paintbrush filling in the puddle of blood, I think of those people. I'm not sure what that says about me, but it's the truth.

2) Action Comics # 775 - What's So Funny About Truth, Justice, And the American Way?

(Joe Kelly, Doug Mahnke & Lee Bermejo)

That's right! To everybody who only ever pretended to read Superman comics; this whole storyline is only one issue long!

People will tell you that we live in a post "truth" society, but I say that's bullshit. Certainly, it's easier to convince people of a lie, but the truth still exists. I'm not Kant, I'm not going to say that reality changes based on whether or not we buy into it. The American Way, on the other hand, is more fallible. As middle-class white America comes to reckon with the country's legacy, that part of Superman's creed has been removed entirely. Today, he fights instead for a better tomorrow. What's so silly about truth? We're all desperate for truth these days. What's so silly about The American Way? In a lot of senses, it's a lie. These are concepts that I think we can all take pretty seriously these days.

But justice? Superman's version of justice specifically? That's what this story is about.

Superman, by his nature, is a device for commentary. Any situation you depict Superman in becomes a political statement on that situation. Superman beats up an abusive husband? Well, we all agree it's not right to abuse people. Superman protects a family from the Klan? At the time that was a stance most people were too afraid or indoctrinated to take. The new Superman is gay? Sounds like DC Comics thinks being gay is a-ok. Superman blocks the bullets of an ICE agent and saves the life of an illegal immigrant? You get my point. From a mythological standpoint, Superman is all good all the time. If you're starting from the idea that what a person is doing is the right thing to do, you can make a lot of implicit statements about the nature of society by simply having that man go through his day.

Most people who write Superman feel the weight of that bearing down on them. Some reject this idea, some have it run through the background of their stories, some buckle under that pressure and some rise to the occasion. I don't think anybody has ever embraced it so successfully though as Joe Kelly does here.

Even if you're not an avid comics fan, you've probably heard some version of this story. Here's Superman, the big blue boy scout. He's always there to do the right thing, always there to save the day. Any time some horrible space god descends upon the Earth, Superman is here to put them in jail. He wears his underwear on the outside. You know, Superman. He can seem a little silly.

One day some horrible villain commits some grand atrocity. Superman stops the guy and he's about to take him to jail. Only, wait. Here come some other heroes, new heroes, COOL heroes. Like they walked straight out of The Matrix movies. And they don't take that monster to jail. They kill him. And he never hurts anyone again. The whole world cheers.

When you get down to brass tax, there are two views of justice in the world. One sees justice as a restorative tool, one that's used to protect victims. This worldview says that people are essentially good and must be safeguarded against corruptions of this goodness. The second sees justice as an instrument of retribution that exists to punish wrongdoers. This philosophy says that the world is an inherently evil place that must be hammered into the correct shape. Our entire culture, not as Americans but as a human race, exists in the friction between these two ideologies.

I know where I stand on the issue. I can't tell you what to think. But dang man, I can tell you what Superman believes. In a lot of ways, it's very damning.

As the issue goes on, Superman sees the world turn away from his view of justice, the view that believes people are inherently good. As the world embraces these new superheroes, The Elite, they slip further and further into an authoritarian mindset. At the climax of the book, Superman engages in a fight for the very soul of the world.

The world watches a live feed as Superman and The Elite fight far away from any innocents who may get hurt. Though at first it appears that The Elite kill Superman, in reality they only free him from the confines of his morality. Now even Superman embraces their view of an inherently corrupt world. Naturally, he must now hammer it into shape, starting with the three people in front of him. As Superman kills off The Elite in a series of new and horrific ways, the remaining member, Manchester Black, becomes desperate. He turns to the cameras, begging for his life from a careless audience. When the wrath of retribution is turned on him, Manchester Black can only cry in fear.

In the end, of course, Superman has not broken. He never killed, never maimed, never dismembered. It was all an act put on for the benefit of the people watching. The Elite are still alive, but they are no longer able to act as judge, jury, or executioner. No one person or group of people should be granted such singular power over the lives of others. Innocent or guilty, all people are still human and disserving of their humanity. We have a responsibility to the people around us for no other reasons than that they are around us. That's what Superman says. Implicitly, it becomes the moral stance.

1) Daredevil # 191 - Roulette

(Frank Miller, Terry Austin, Lynn Varley, Joe Rosen, Denny O'Neil)

"This is a 38 calibre revolver, manufactured in Hartford Connecticut. It is one of the most popular handguns in America. It is not a target pistol. Nor is it useful for hunting animals, large or small, as its accuracy cannot be guaranteed for long-distance shooting. No. There's only one thing this weapon is good for. Only one reason it's bought, stolen, or smuggled onto the island of Manhattan. It kills people."

Those words run through Matt Murdock's head as he holds a gun to his temple. He pulls the trigger. "KLIK!" That chamber was empty. He turns the gun on the man in the hospital bed.

Much has been said about Frank Miller's run on Daredevil. No matter your view on Miller's later work, his Daredevil is downright revolutionary. Moments like the death of Gwen Stacy are held almost sacred amongst comics fans. They signify transitory moments in the culture of the medium. I would say an equal moment comes in Miller's Daredevil when Wilson Fisk first illuminates his face in the light of a cigar. Roulette, however, comes years after this moment.

It's rare that a writer's best issue on a title be their last. Here though, that's the case.

The story follows Daredevil in a game of Russian Roulette with a paralyzed Bullseye. Bullseye, being paralyzed, cannot speak or hold the gun, so Daredevil must assume his consent and pull the trigger himself. In between the clickings of the hammer, Daredevil tells us a story. It's the story of a young boy who idolizes Daredevil until the hero is forced to confront the child's father. The clashing of his two greatest role models throws the boy into an emotional turmoil that climaxes when the child brings a gun to school. 38 calibre. Just like his dad's.

What keeps Matt Murdock awake at night, the terror in the heart of the man without fear, is his sense of unknowing. Did the child take his actions so that he could emulate his father, who was himself seconds away from murder? Did the child's view of himself as a "bad" person cause him to want to emulate Bullseye, Daredevil's gun obsessed arch-nemesis. Did the child take retribution on his bullies because, like Daredevil, he wanted to end a perceived injustice through violence? Or was this the first action that the child ever took of his own influence? There is simply no way to know. And so, to prevent future tragedies, Matt is determined to either end his arch-enemy's life or his own.

But, as each successive chamber proves empty, Matt is forced to continue his monologue. His story expands to memories of his own father and his childhood. As he speaks, the light falls bisected on his face through the slots in the windows. Soon, the layout of the panels matches the slots in the window. There is a voyeuristic feel as we look in on Matt Murdock in his darkest, most private moment.

Matt was raised catholic, and in the end, he cannot bring himself to end a life. Not even his own. At its heart, this is a story about the cycle of violence. The ultimate violent act, murder, could only ever perpetuate that cycle. Six times he pulled the trigger, six times the hammer clicked. There were no bullets in the gun.

The marriage of form and content, the political parable, the deep character insights, the tone and the pacing. Even the carrier bag is present, in a sense. I apologize if this entry feels underwhelming, but I trust that you can understand the significance of this story on your own. When you look at the list that came before it, there could be no other option. Roulette is the superhero story at its greatest, all in one issue.