What a complete waste of time, an utter misery and a fucking boring meander around N52 Superman’s crypt and the fortress of solitude with a re-telling of Superman Classic’s death shoved in the middle that feels like so much padding it belongs in an anorexics bra.
There’s only two characters through the whole book and all they do is waffle their way through expository nonsense that even now is seeping from memory like brain matter through a fresh bullet wound. I’m starting to wonder if Superman will ever do anything more than navel gaze, as he tells Lana Lang that he can’t tell her anything for reasons he can’t explain BUT then goes into his whole death and eventual rebirth story, which she takes so calmly I’m not entirely sure Classic S didn’t just put her to sleep with the warm expository waft of him droning on and on.
All he does is walk/float about looking about as bored as I felt reading this pish, oh and if he doesn’t want the world to know he’s Superman how about NOT floating about and maybe wear something other than a big fucking S on his chest? There’s some proper nineties styling going on in the art, all crosshatching and about two facial expressions. The anatomy is OK but the range of poses goes from action man still in his packaging to DYYYYNNNAAAAMMMMIIICCCC! and it’s more than a little jarring.
If they were trying to be somber in the wake of the last issue of Nu-52 then they failed to make it interesting or deep enough to hold my interest. There was no need to start the new run this way and it just feels like the vinegar strokes of a necrophiliac.