In this 1995 novel, author Peter David describes the Hulk as “a nuclear warhead on legs” and “an unstoppable engine of destruction.” The Hulk’s muscles, we are told, defy all known rules of human anatomy. And when he’s on a rampage, “there was no plan to his pounding, no art, no strategy.”

But David’s version of the Hulk isn’t the same as the iconic inarticulate brute I grew up with. He may still be “seven feet tall and green as grass,” but he now sports the personality of puny Bruce Banner. He even wears nerdy black-rimmed glasses and smokes a pipe while contemplating advanced mathematical equations. He is 1,000 pounds of ripping muscles with the brain of a genius. No longer does he speak in monosyllables and confuse personal pronouns. He’s so refined he probably eats petite cucumber sandwiches while drinking a cup of P.J. Tips. Pinkie out, of course.

But one thing remains the same. The U.S. Army still hates his guts. Gen. Thunderbolt Ross may be long gone, but the Hulk continues to be hounded by the military wherever he goes. “Our country has been at war with him from the moment he smashed his first tank,” explains Major William Talbot.

With no place left to go, the Hulk retreats to another dimension with help from the Eye of Agamotto. And wouldn’t you know it, even in this negative-like zone, the Hulk can’t find any peace. He’s hunted by his future self (now called the Maestro) and an army of Hulkbusters. He even has to wrestle his 20-year-old son Brett (the name being a portmanteau of Bruce and Betty, FYI).

The entire novel is a never-ending string of crazy situations and connections. The Hulk gets a computer chip implanted into his brain, his wife gets pregnant and gives birth to conjoined twins, Doc Samson and Dr. Strange make guest appearances, and an army of Hulks show up armed with a collection of superhero accoutrements (like the Sub-Mariner’s trident, Captain America’s shield, Wolverine’s adamantium claws, and Thor’s hammer). Unquestionably, the book is a huge page-turner with lots of action and laughs (intentional and/or otherwise). And there’s even a little bit of Hulk sex too.

Overall, What Savage Beast is totally insane and awesome at the same time. Mostly because it’s unapologetically a comic book superhero novel and doesn’t court any sort of literary merit. The only way this book could have been any better is if the Hulk rode a surfboard or an invisible jet. Kudos to Peter David for his ability to maintain his hyper propulsive comic book storytelling skills in prose format. I had a great big smile on my face when the Hulk and his son started debating the merits of Friedrich Nietzsche. At that point, I knew I was reading something truly incredible.

[The Incredible Hulk: What Savage Beast / By Peter David / First Printing: July 1995 / ISBN: 9780756759674]

Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman was a TV series from the 90s that emphasized the flirty relationship between Lois Lane and Clark Kent. During its four-season history, the show was a fun and good-natured romantic comedy.

But judging by this 1996 novel, author C.J. Cherryh never saw a single episode of the show. It’s an extremely serious book with very little comic banter between Lois and Clark. Cherryh doesn’t come anywhere close to capturing the spirit of the TV show.

Even more troubling, Lois & Clark: A Superman Novel is actually two separate books smooshed disharmoniously together. In one novel, Superman is tending to a disaster “somewhere uphill of Chechnya.” In the other novel, Lois is reporting on a disaster in Metropolis. In both, Clark Kent is simply a forgetful doofus who drifts in and out of the newsroom at the Daily Planet.

Nowhere is there any winsome Nick and Nora-like chemistry between the two lovebirds. There is a smidgen of romance here and there (mostly at the end), but Cherryh seems to be saying that love and career are two separate things for Lois and Clark. “She had her job and he had his,” writes the author. “And they each did what they had to.”

Despite the book’s many missteps (and believe me there are many glaring missteps), Cherryh’s writing remains top-notch from the first page to the last chapter. She’s a veteran science fiction and fantasy author who’s won a raft of industry awards (including the Hugo for her novels Downbelow Station and Cyteen). In truth, there’s no way a C.J. Cherryh novel is going to be a total bust.

For example, the way she describes Superman in the air is terrific. These reoccurring passages may be the best writing in the book. “He broke through the gloomy gray clouds of Metropolis into the brilliant day that existed above the storm, rising into increasing cold and thinner air. Here he breathed like a swimmer in surf, water streaming off him and then freezing in his wake. Snow might have followed him, however briefly.”

Flying across the Atlantic Ocean: “He wasn’t hungry, but he was burning up the energy around him, turning the air colder than surrounding air and creating microweather as he went, an effect that could generate a sparkle of ice as moisture froze in midair.”

And over Asia Minor: “He flew high, high above political boundaries where his radar signature might trip alarms and scramble aircraft. He might have been a falling satellite. A piece of space junk. A cosmic piece of debris above the ancient and disputed land of Anatolia.”

Because of the ongoing crisis in Europe, Superman spends a lot of time in this book going back and forth across the Atlantic. Cherryh wants her readers to know that flying solo is a big part of being Superman. It’s lonely business being the last son of Krypton. But it doesn’t have to be that way. A man who can fly through a sunset should be able to share that experience with someone he loves.

[Lois & Clark: A Superman Novel / By C.J. Cherryh / First Printing: August 1996 / ISBN: 9780761504825]

There’s no question about it. Wolverine is a tough nut to crack. In this book alone, for example, he’s pumped full of lead, burned alive, fed to sharks, attacked by ninja and blown to pieces. Later, he jumps out of an airplane without a parachute. Twice. “It will only slow me down,” he says.

Okay, I get it. Wolverine’s a first-class stud. He’s been alive for over a century and he’s practically indestructible. He’s a living weapon who prowls the shadowy space between human and animal. Thank goodness he’s one of the good guys.

His latest assignment starts in Japan and takes him to Brazil, Austria, Russia, Nigeria, Turkey and South Africa. But this isn’t a picaresque novel by any means. Wolverine is on a mission to save the world from a drug called panacea. This miracle drug can cure anything, “cancer, tuberculosis and the common cold—it can cure them all. Viral, bacterial, congenital, it doesn’t matter.”

Unfortunately it has one deadly flaw. Once a patient takes panacea, he will die unless he continues taking it every day for the rest of his life. In other words, it’s sort of like food or water or Starbucks coffee. And, of course, Wolverine is 100 percent against that sort of thing. When he learns about plans to use panacea to enslave an African nation in order to exploit its bountiful supply of crude oil, he vows to cut the drug cartel down to size with his adamantium claws.

That’s when the shooting, burning, exploding and shark feeding begins. Wolverine and his sexy Chinese mutant sidekick are up against a powerful consortium of yakuza and super ninja. These gangsters didn’t play around. Their only motive is “power for its own sake.” And panacea gives them all the power they need.

Naturally, Wolverine stops the distribution of the drug. But no one throws him a ticker tape parade or gives him a pat on the back when his mission is complete. In fact, some people are rather upset by his hubris. “Who are you to chose our fate?” asks an African woman slowly dying of illness and starvation. Panacea would have made her a slave. But so what? She’s already a slave to political upheaval, warlords, meddling foreigners, hunger, dehydration and disease. She’s just looking for options. Wolverine’s a tough guy, all right. But when it comes to solving the problems of the world, sometimes he’s just as powerless as the rest of us.

[Wolverine: Road of Bones / By David Alan Mack / First Printing: October 2006 / ISBN: 9781416510697]

At night, Gotham City belongs to Batman. But it doesn’t belong to him alone. Somewhere in the shadows lurks a stray cat yowling in fury and endless desire.

That yowling cat is Catwoman and she is an iconic and wonderful creation. As a supporting character, she compliments Batman perfectly (“the flip side to the same coin,” writes Paul Kupperberg). Yet, when given the opportunity, she can also step into the spotlight on her own terms.

The Catwoman/Batman dynamic is unique in the world of superhero comic books. Selina Kyle is a thief and an outlaw, and when she slips into her catsuit she’s the most dangerous of all urban predators. More than anyone else in the Bat’s rogues’ gallery, Catwoman makes Batman more human, and thus more interesting. Things get complicated on so many levels when these two creatures of the night bump into each other. It’s too bad this chunky collection of short stories doesn’t fulfill its war-of-the-sexes potential.

There’s some adventure and frisky fun here, but the assembled authors never seem to get a firm handle on the dynamic duo. In one story, for example, Batman foils Catwoman’s string of thievery with uncanny regularity. “You’re predictable,” he tells her at the scene of each crime. Yet in a follow-up story, Catwoman has no problem outwitting Batman at every turn. “Cats aren’t predictable,” he laments. Well, which is it? Is Selina Kyle trapped by her well-known cat obsession, or is she forever inscrutable?

And Batman doesn’t fare much better. The guy’s been around for 80 years and writers are still trying to figure him out. In some of these stories he’s the master detective, in others, he’s the Dark Knight, and in a few he’s Adam West. One writer even tries to compare him to saxophonist Archie Shepp. The comparison doesn’t stick, however. Batman may dispense justice like a raging Shepp solo, but he’s too white and privileged to carry the weight of the jazzman’s Afrocentric black power politics.

Together or apart, Batman and Catwoman have proven to be a resilient and multi-faceted pair. Looking back, I actually have a tremendous fondness for some of the various interpretations, reboots and costume changes each character has suffered throughout the years. But in this case, I blame the editor and his lack of editorial guidance for the book’s haphazardness. And what’s more, I can’t help but feel an opportunity has been missed. Catwoman is a character who has found success in comic books, TV shows, movies and Halloween parties. But in prose she’s been totally disappointing. Someday someone will get it right. I hope.

[The Further Adventures of Batman, Vol. 3: Featuring Catwoman / Edited by Martin H. Greenberg / First Printing: March 1993 / ISBN: 9780553560695]

In my opinion, She-Hulk is the best superhero name Stan Lee ever thought up. The hyphenated personal pronoun succeeds at being funny and dumb and smart and provocative all at the same time. She-Hulk could easily be a monster from a 1950s movie or the topic of a women’s studies class. Take your pick.

She-Hulk is a six-foot-seven, 680-pound jade-green party animal. And as her name implies, she’s hell on wheels and an indefatigable physical presence. But in Marta Acosta’s novel from 2013 she isn’t nearly as interesting as her host, Jennifer Walters, a woman who is described as a beautiful disaster—all luminous eyes and existential grief. Walters is, according to her spunky best friend, “a perplexing blend of kick-ass chick and honor-roll nerd.” The She-Hulk Diaries could easily have been called The Jennifer Walters Diaries instead.

But no worries; Even with “She-Hulk” in the title, Walters establishes herself as the real hero of the book. Her quest to find a good job, secure an affordable apartment in Manhattan and hook up with an awesome boyfriend represents her version of a hero’s journey.

Naturally, there are plenty of obstacles in Walters’ way. She must grapple with duplicitous coworkers, limited rental options and an ex-lover who insists on writing embarrassing songs about their weekend tryst (sample lyric: “I’ll crawl from the primordial sludge for you. I’ll give up my gills and prehensile appendage for you”). Dr. Doom even shows up to make things more complicated. It’s sort of like Sex and the City (or maybe Breakfast at Tiffany’s) with a little superhero action on the side. There’s a lot of navel-gazing in The She-Hulk Diaries, but it’s mostly well written and relentlessly jokey. Added bonus for those who care: the sex talk is surprisingly frank.

With all the real world drama surrounding Walters, there’s not much for She-Hulk to do. We are told that “Shulky” is a righteous superbabe and a sex object for millions of teenage boys, but the author keeps her on the sidelines most of the time.

Regardless of her costarring status, She-Hulk succeeds in retaining her brutish charm wherever she goes. She is, I admit, pretty good with the zippy one-liners. “I’d rather be tasty than tasteful,” she brags at one point. And later, when her boobs pop out of her outfit, she says, “It pays to advertise!”

Even when she’s serious (which is not very often), She-Hulk is able to express herself with surprising aplomb. For example, every time she visits the Avengers Mansion she feels the sting of sexism (especially from ex-boyfriend Tony Stark). She may be red hot and green, but she’s not happy about being marginalized because of her sex. “Male is not the default gender for superhero,” she huffs. The Sensational She-Hulk deserves a little more respect.

[The She-Hulk Diaries / By Marta Acosta / First Printing: June 2013 / ISBN: 9781401311018]

There’s no timestamp on Mackenzi Lee’s latest novel. Readers aren’t told how old Loki and Thor are. All we know is that All-father Odin has yet to name an heir to the Asgardian throne.

Later, when Loki visits London, the details are somewhat vague as well. When exactly does Lee’s novel take place? Does it transpire during the early days of the Industrial Revolution? Or is it set in a bleak nineteenth century Dickensian milieu?

Even Loki is confused by the squishy timeline. On Asgard he’s a young prince and an artful dodger. But on Midgard he’s already the Lord of Darkness and Mischief and Chaos and Everything Evil.

Loki doesn’t know it at the time, but humans on Earth are keenly aware of the mighty Aesir. Stories of Odin and Frigga and the Twilight of the Gods are a big part of popular culture.

As it turns out, these myths from the past are also inextricably tied to Asgard’s future. Like it or not, Loki never gets to be the hero. It is his brother Thor who eventually ascends to the throne. “My story has already been written,” he cries in frustration. “It’s been told and retold. Humans know everything about me.”

Which begs the question: If Loki can’t be the hero, what else is left? Lots of things, apparently. He can be the witch, the trickster, the schemer, the self-serving God of Chaos. He can prove the mythology books right, that he was rotten from the start. Says the author: “He would serve no man but himself, no heart but his own. That would be his choice.”

Loki’s partner in crime is Amora, known to comic book readers as the Enchantress. In possession of five highly coveted Norn Stones, the pair hatch a plot to storm Asgard with an army of human zombies. For some reason, this seems like a totally reasonable thing to do.

As a couple, Amora and Loki are two sides of the same coin. They’re both dissatisfied with Asgard’s rigid caste system. Amora is a powerful sorceress who resents living in the shadow of her mentor Karnilla, the Queen of Norns. “I do not want to be controlled,” she says. “I am powerful, so let me be powerful!”

Likewise, Loki considers himself cleverer, sharper and quicker than everyone else in Odin’s court. He knows, however, that he’ll never win his father’s favor. Secretly he wishes for a hammer just like the one his brother wields. “I want to break something,” he says.

Good or bad, hero or villain, Loki and Amora are ultimately undone by social expectations. Like Esther Greenwood (look it up), they can’t break out of the bell jar. “There are some things that cannot be taught,” says Odin, “and one is how to change our hearts. Our true selves always show themselves in the end.”

[Loki: Where Mischief Lies / By Mackenzi Lee / First Printing: September 2019 / ISBN: 9781368022262]

Witchblade was certainly a big part of the “bad girl” movement in comic books during the 90s. And author John DeChancie doesn’t back away from the sexy witch’s infamous eye-popping transformation in his prose adaptation from 2002.

She was, he wrote, a paradox of dress and undress. “Her metamorphosis produced a filigree of delicate metal work of swirls and arabesques crawling up her body and covering her full breasts and neither portions but leaving little else unexposed. She was nude and yet somehow completely covered.”

Even without the Witchblade gauntlet, Sara “Pez” Pezzini was an eyeful. She dressed like a tomboy, said the author, but she always looked good. “Her jeans were tight and the T-shirt under her jacket was inevitably undersized, allowing her feminine lineaments to come through nicely. She was tall, thin, well proportioned, and had a face that could launch several navies. Legs up to the neck. Oh, those legs! And there were other parts of her body that shaped up just as well.”

Comic books have always been slightly disreputable, and Witchblade along with similar titles such as Vampirella and Lady Death unquestionably took advantage of the media’s lowbrow reputation. This is not a criticism from me btw. Over the years, the character has become iconic and (dare I say it) beloved around the world. She appeared on television in 2001 and even made the transition to anime in 2006.

Witchblade: Talons was a tie-in novel written specifically to supplement the TV series, but DeChancie doesn’t let himself get derailed by continuity minutia. Detective Pezzini wore her Witchblade gauntlet, she seemed comfortable with it and characters (old and new) coexisted without a hitch. There’s no origin story to speak of, but the supernatural tenor of the comic book series was preserved.

Pezzini finds herself in a sticky situation involving a “magical” supercomputer, a werewolf, a “mahjong dragon,” a supernatural assassin, a Romanian crime boss and a bunch of religious zealots from an alternative dimension. Vlad Tepys (the Impaler himself) even shows up for some decapitating fun.

The whole thing is silly and beyond criticism. True believers will be happy to discover that Witchblade retains her bad girl charm in prose format (Pezzini even briefly considers launching a personal website with nude pictures of herself). The details of her ongoing story, however, are rendered inconsequential. But that’s okay. Nobody ever bought a Witchblade comic for the story.

[Witchblade: Talons / By John DeChancie / First Printing: January 2002 / ISBN: 9780743435017]