Issue Date: August 31, 2008

Why I love Superman

A best-selling novelist on why he adores the Man of Steel.

By Brad Meltzer

Best-selling author Brad Meltzer's new thriller, "The Book of Lies," is due out Sept. 2. The novel is about the unsolved murder that led to the creation of Superman and the missing murder weapon that Cain used to kill Abel.

Jerry Seinfeld loves him. How could you not? He fights for the little guy. And he's got the best hair, even as he celebrates his 70th birthday this year.

So I'm not ashamed or embarrassed. And I'll tell anyone who'll listen. I love Superman.

I don't remember the exact moment I first met him. In fact, I actually liked Batman first (as evidenced by the fact that I'm wearing a Batman cape in every photo of me from when I was 6 until I was about, say, 27). But I'll never forget that night in 1978, when I was 8, and my parents took me to the movies to see him. Back then, it was Christopher Reeve in the costume. And as "Superman: The Movie" began to roll, I craned my neck up at the screen and lowered my hand into the huge tub of buttered popcorn that was sitting in my lap.

The lights came up. How mesmerized was I? I didn't even realize that my hand was still sitting in that tub of popcorn. I hadn't moved my now prune-fingered hand for more than two hours -- it just sat there, shriveled from soaking in the butter.

And right there, my addiction was born.

Back then, in Brooklyn, we didn't have a ton of money. But my father always would magically find the extra cash to surprise me with the newest comics of the guy with the big red S who wore his underwear on the outside of his pants (having superpowers doesn't mean you automatically get fashion sense).

For me, the obsession peaked at summer camp, when my group went on its first overnight camping trip when I was 10. We marched in the scorching heat for miles -- all of us unprepared and too inexperienced to actually save any of the water that had originally filled our canteens. Halfway there, we saw (like a suburban oasis) a 7-Eleven. My mom had given me a dollar for the trip. All the other kids had their dollar, too. We all raced inside, diving for the Yoo-hoos and Nehi sodas and candy bars. I, however, spotted the spinning comic book rack. My Kryptonite! On that rack, I saw "Justice League of America" No. 196, with Superman on the cover. I looked at the Yoo-hoo. Then back to the comic. Then back to the Yoo-hoo. The choice was clear: Drink and survive or read and die happy.

Would I be writing this article if I chose the Yoo-hoo?

But my most personal Superman moment came when my wife was pregnant with our first child. We're superstitious people, so we wouldn't buy the toys or clothes or anything until the baby was born. But there we were, checking out cribs in the baby store, when my wife spotted it -- a Batman cape, just like the one I used to wear so long ago.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "Can't do it. Not until he's born."

"C'mon," my wife pleaded. "It's perfect!"

"I see it!" I told her.

"No," she said. "I don't think you do."

And with a flick of her wrist, she flipped the Batman cape around and revealed the big S. The cape was two-sided, with Superman on the other side.

Sold.

My son was barely 2 weeks old at his first Halloween when we swaddled him in that cape (baby Kal-El, get it?). Today, my daughter is the one who wears it (always with the SuperGIRL side out).

Thirty years after my obsession began -- and five novels later -- I was lucky enough to finally put words in Superman's mouth in the "Green Arrow" comic book. And it wasn't until that moment that I realized what made me love the character so much. The best part of the story has never been the Superman part. It's the Clark Kent part: the idea that all of us are so plain, so ordinary, but we know what it's like to want to rip open our shirts and do something to better the world.

My wife just had our third child. I gotta go buy another cape.