As Brian Cronin said in a post some years ago, there’s a tendency for comic-book writers to make their protagonist, or whoever the current “hot” character is, the best at what they do. They have to be the deadliest assassin, the strongest martial artist, the best thief, the most advanced scientific genius, whatever, and it has to be canon.
After reading that, it occurred to me I see a lot of that in fantasy fiction too. Lots of books on Kindle where the protagonist has a magic talent so great she has to be destroyed/controlled/mated. The kid who trains with a sword and becomes “the best I’ve ever seen.” The sex demon in one of Patrick Rothfuss’s books who informs the virgin protagonist he’s the best she ever had.
For some characters this is baked into the concept. The Hulk is the strongest one of all. Karate Kid in the Legion of Super-Heroes is a master of every known form of hand-to-hand combat. Sherlock Holmes is the world’s greatest detective.
However as Brian points out, this isn’t a requirement for a great character. Lots of brilliant detectives followed on Holmes’ wake; Dr. Thorndyke (by R. Austin Freeman) and Professor Van Dusen (by Jacques Futrelle) are both genius detectives. Despite having entertaining adventures and solving ingenious puzzles, hey’re largely forgotten not because Holmes was a superior detective but because neither had his quirky, eccentric, forceful personality. And Doyle, as I’ve pointed out before, had no problems with Holmes being fallible. He misses the answer in some cases completely; in others he cracks the case but can’t save his client.
Karate Kid, sure, I’m happy to assume he’s the best fighter ever. However Denny O’Neil never felt the need to make his martial artist Richard Dragon the best there ever was; in his Bronze Age comics run, Dragon routinely runs into people as tough as he is, though he finds a way to beat them but he’s not invincible (neither is Karate Kid but that’s because he’s up against supervillains, not rogue martial artists). In the early Dr. Strange stories, he’s very clearly not the top dog: Baron Mordo is his equal, and possibly his superior while Dormammu is way, way beyond Strange’s magic. He wins because he outthinks his foes, not because his magic is vastly superior.
Brian’s post convinced me to go back and rewrite some of Let No Man Put Asunder. In an encounter with the mercenary Peacock (he dresses flashy — or as he puts it, some people dress in style, he dresses with style), Mandy learns how her new combat skills work, and he tells her the fact she landed a blow on him proves she’s one of the best. There’s really no reason she has to be that good; if people read the book it’s going to be because they like her and Paul as characters, not their raw display of power.
I rewrote the scene to establish Mandy’s good, not world-class. She points out she did manage to land a blow; Peacock replies that in battle, nobody’s invincible. Anyone can get tagged if they get distracted or the other party gets lucky.
I think that works better.
Cover by Curt Swan, Dr. Strange panels by Steve Ditko. All rights to images remain with current holders.










going. While “why is this happening?” is a constant refrain throughout the story, the real focus is “how can we stay alive and free long enough to find out?” That’s much more about events; as I said last month, it’s very much in
My first published story was a Sherlock Holmes/Lovecraft pastiche, back before such things became common (as I’ve said before, “Lovecraftian” is a broader description than
But I’m not the writer I was back in ’83 — who is? — and a little light tinkering didn’t satisfy me. I wanted Watson to be on the crime scene, telling us what he saw, rather than listening to Holmes’ take. That required new scenes. I had to figure out how Holmes was going to stop a Lovecraftian monstrosity without pulling a deus ex machina. I changed the identity of the killer, though I’m not sure why (was it a problem or just aesthetics?). I completely changed the clues to the killer. I incorporated another untold tale, the unsolved mystery of James Phillimore, who walked into his house to get his umbrella and vanished for all time.
My initial idea was to take the Connery character (based on a real character in the Michael Crichton nonfiction account of the theft) and have him work for the government — go where the police can’t go, do things the police can’t, that sort of stuff. The initial adventure, prompted by some nonfiction I’d read, would have involved the Hindu Thuggee cult setting up shot in London. In hindsight I’m very glad I never sat down and wrote it as I can’t think of any way it wouldn’t have been racist as shit.
(No, that cover has no thematic connection to my post, I’m just fond of it).
As far as writing goes, this was a waste of a week.

Overall, I did complete enough goals to reward myself by buying the second Epic Iron Man Collection, which runs from midway through his time in Tales of Suspense through the launch of his own series (Gene Colan provides the cover).
THE TRIUMPH OF SHERLOCK HOLMES (1935) has Arthur Wontner’s Sherlock Holmes (last seen in
ordinary parking valet who spends his time goofing off with BFF Katie (Awkwafina) — until a team of martial artists attacks them to steal Shang-Chi’s pendant and he kicks their butt. Katy learns her buddy is the son of the immortal leader of the Ten Rings, a League of Assassins-type secret society named for the energy-blasting armbands he wears. And for some reason, Daddy’s very interested in a reunion …

