III - 1983 - 1996. Tatsu Yamashiro.
- John Ridley et al
The third volume tells the story of Katana, a fairly famous character who yet had never been regarded as an A-lister. Yet she has been an integral part of the more politically-minded side of DC superhero stories.
This volume became famous among the fans for two somewhat extraneous reasons: For proposing that Katana’s sword Soultaker is not in fact a mystical artifact (and that Tatsu herself was never a martial artist —that her entire training had been as a gymnast), and for her denouncement of the character Deathstroke, better known as Slade, for raping teenaged Tara, better known as Terra (“Not with physical force. He coerced an underage, mentally unstable girl into having sexual relationships with him. Again, and again, and again. And Slade used that sexual dominance to manipulate Tara.”). People debate the first as an unnecessary Retcon, the second as —and here the arguments get unreal.
Both discussions miss the point: That this series asks us to re-evaluate the stories we have read and taken as “fact” for years. Decades even. It’s not a simple “Everything you thought knew is a lie!” twist, but rather a shift in perspective. In this case, it is a tale about who defines our tales. The very first page, the very first lines even, lay the theme our for us: “The birthing process is a painful and bloody event. It is endured by women, but presided over by men. My birth, my metaphorical birth, was both excruciating and gory. And it was men who had dominion over it.”
In other words, it asks us to ponder who tells whose story and to what end? As narrator, Tatsu does not so much tell us her biography as challenge the way certain stories have been told —hers and others’.
Even the idea of a continuity in-series is delightfully challenged, taking advantage of the very fact that it is set in the long-running DC Universe itself. The previous two volumes mention the death of Supergirl, and Superman’s grief at it. This one tells us of Superman’s death, with Supergirl as one of the mourners. The comics have a reason for it —cosmic reboots, it was not the same person, and so on —but that is not the point. The point is the perspective each person brings with the tale they tell. For Katana, it’s not about grief, but about death or near-death experiences as a way to wrestle with our demons. Hauntings perhaps literal, perhaps mental —aren’t they all a little of both?
As this series progresses, the blending of real-life event and superhero stories feels increasingly more organic… allowing for the necessary suspension of disbelief, of course. What truly holds them together is the humane perspective. Tatsu’s relationship with a girl she takes care of for a few years, her wry yet poignant observations about societal evils (“I don’t mean to compare tragedies. The horrors that humanity too often inflicts on itself need and deserve to be understood singularly. Equally, we need to understand that evil is not something that other societies commit. It is something that all societies commit.”).
Very recommended, both as part of the series and by itself.
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