Historical counterfactuals, when well done, can be both quite entertaining and thought-provoking. (When poorly done, they are just silly.) That being said, it is hard to know how seriously to take such things. On the one hand, a historical (“an historical” for the pedantically inclined—I have always thought the “an” before “h-word” rule was absurd—perhaps that is because in properly spoken English (i.e. California English) one pronounces the “h”) “What if?” can be a great parlor game; on the other hand, there is literally no way to ever figure out what would really happen if some small thing in history had changed; history has many cunning passages, and as a result we really aren’t smart enough to figure out all the implications of a small change. Moreover, if one is a determinist, then the whole counterfactual thing is inherently problematic.
But, nonetheless, I read a fantastic counterfactual. Though, come to think of it, I am not sure “counterfactual” is the right word. What do you call a counterfactual, when the historical episode being rewritten was fictional? Counterfictional? That just sounds odd. But, rewriting a fictional story is not a counterfactual, since there is no fact to counter. I suppose you could just call it “fiction,” but that doesn’t really describe it. I think we need a new word here.
Semantics aside: if you like comic books, Mark Millar’s Red Son is a keeper. The premise: Superman’s ship leaves Krypton 12 hours later than in the canonical story. As a result, the earth has rotated, and Superman’s ship lands on a collective farm in the Soviet Union. And suddenly we have Superman, the Soviet hero. And does he ever make a fantastic Soviet hero; a well-meaning Big Brother, who can make the world safe for everyone, and with his superpower hearing and X-ray vision, nothing escapes his notice. He is quite good at reforming all those malcontents to make them see the beauty of the Soviet way. Superman is a perfect benevolent totalitarian dictator who is happy to run every aspect of your life for your own good. Who stands against Superman? Lex Luthor, naturally—Luthor, the Great American Hero. The cleverness of this story runs from the big picture to the smallest details. Seeing how Batman, Wonder Woman, and the Green Lantern all fit into the story is fun. There are great jokes everywhere you turn as the most routine things in the canonical Superman story are suddenly flipped around. There is even a great riff on this. Like I said, if you like comics, this is a must read.
There is one serious failure in the book, though, which almost detracts from the whole story. The story is 151 pages long. It really should have ended on the last panel of page 143. Had it ended there, it would have been the perfect ending to a well told tale. But, like far too many authors, Millar wanted that extra little kick, so he added a really lame twist starting on page 144. Fortunately, the twist has no relevance to the story that came before; it is really just tacking on what could have been the ending to any old Superman story, and it would have been just as silly as an ending to any other Superman Story. Why didn’t someone, anyone, tell Millar that he shouldn’t mess with perfection? And that last panel on page 143 is perfection—subtle and satisfying.
And, speaking of Superheroes, Emma, Clara and I saw X-Men: First Class on Father’s Day (which was the same day as Emma’s turned 18). It was a great superhero film. Better than Thor (don’t get me wrong; I liked Thor). Alas, Green Lantern is sounding like a Netflix movie. I am still hoping for great things from Captain America, though. I have absolutely no hope for Conan, but maybe it will surprise me.
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