In examining the Pocket Book series of paperback novels about Marvel super-heroes, one must keep in mind their presumed objectives. Not only must they appeal to regular comics readers, who already know both the characters and many if not all of their past adventures, but they must also interest a great number of prospective readers who have never read comics.

The ninth book of the series is The Marvel Superheroes, edited and packaged by Len Wein and Marv Wolfman. It consists of four novellas: The Avengers in "This Evil Undying," by Jim Shooter; Daredevil in "Blind Justice," by Kyle Christopher; The X-Men in Mary Jo Duffy's "Children of the Atom"; and the Hulk, along with the unbilled Man-Thing, in Len Wein's "Museum Piece." The quality of the writing turns out to be as different from story to story as the heroes who star in each.

[At this point, Sanderson reviews The Hulk, The X-Men, and The Avengers stories, respectively. If and when I have time to type in the full text of that portion of this article, I may add this section of the article in its entirety. - editor]

It beats me why the author of the Daredevil novella should masquerade under the name of Kyle Christopher. What has he to be ashamed of? "Blind Justice" does not generate the energy that Shooter's Avengers tale does, but overall it is the best written story in the book.

I should first confess that I haven't liked the way Daredevil has become grimmer, more mundane, and, significantly, less popular from the time Roy Thomas took over the book through the present. My favorite Daredevil stories are the joyous, thrilling Lee-Colan collaborations in which the hero was indeed a Daredevil who came alive in doing the impossible, rather than today's somber, Batman-like "devil" stalking the dark streets. Christopher's story falls into the current tradition, and, though it doesn't convince me, the tale makes a masterful case for it.

The opening paragraphs wonderfully and subtly give us a look into Daredevil's mind that we've never had before. Christopher shows us, in detail, what it must be like to perceive reality through Daredevil's heightened senses. By doing so he whets the reader's interest, he immediately establishes a mood for the story, and, best of all, he does what the other three writers should have: he gives us new insight into the character.

Nor does Christopher stop there. He gives us a fine, evocative sequence recalling Matt's feelings and experiences in the hospital after the accident that blinded him. He skillfully draws a portrait of Battling Murdock's despair over his sagging career. He memorably sums up what it means to be a Marvel super-hero in defining them as "men and women who went out in Halloween clothes to tilt at windmills." Moreover, Christopher finds a brilliant variation on the Clark Kent/Superman syndrome in the relationship between Matt Murdock and Daredevil. Murdock, the blind man, must continually put up with the annoying but well-intentioned condescension of sighted people who assume him to be helpless. Daredevil is what Murdock would like to be treated like all the time; the man who needs no one's help, who can do things other people cannot. Murdock's blindness is as much a deceptive front as Clark Kent's ordinariness.

Christopher handles the plot just as expertly, giving detailed, convincing background on two murder victims, inventing clever weaponry for the villains, and concocting a genuinely fearsome death-trap for Daredevil. Unfortunately Christopher saddles us with a women-are-betrayers ending; Storm is the only woman who is handled well in this entire book. But Christopher makes Daredevil a real human being with credible emotional responses from the novella's start to its finish.

But why was Christopher so heedless of continuity? His Battling Murdock wanted Matt to become a boxer. Stan Lee had more insight and gave us a Battling Murdock who wanted his son to become a lawyer and thereby to escape the kind of life he himself was condemned to. Christopher also has some strange ideas about Daredevil's old enemy the Owl. In the comics the Owl is a fat, formerly wealthy ex-financier who has the power of flight. Christopher's Owl is named Orson (he's fat; get it?) Doyle, a nearly blind member of organized crime who suffers from emphysema and, of course, can't fly. Not only that, but this Owl is one of the people responsible for the death of Daredevil's father. (The Fixer? What Fixer?)

This is as awful a savaging of continuity as one would expect from the people who adapt Marvel series to television. What could be Christopher's motive? Did he feel the story's audience might not accept a super-powered villain? That would make sense if this were a full novel in itself, but instead it's one story in a book featuring Thunder gods, robots, aliens, a monster made of swamp muck, and other objects for suspension of disbelief. But I would have no objection to using Doyle as the villain as long as Christopher had not given him the same name as a totally different character! What possible rationale could he have for creating such gratuitous confusion? Why take so much care with other detials and then wilfully pervert others?

There are many good things in the Marvel Superheroes book, but are there enough of them to outweigh its flaws, and make readers, both new and old, want to see more such books? I doubt it.