"Catwoman: Trail of the Catwoman": A Dialogue For Anybody Who Don't Do Comics YET (...Or Those Who Do)

September 14th, 2026

"My little cousin'll murder me if something happens to this" claimed the(n) fat little poser writing this about an issue of the New Teen Titans comic clearly his, scapegoating a now deceased (RIP, K.J.!) then-6 relation. Back in 1982 for a middle-scholar not trying to look any more tragic than a 12 year-old whose dad ate a gun for Easter supper, being over 8 and still doing superheroes was maybe worse. "You're afraid of your little cousin?" that awful bitch Christy came back with, spiking my pitiful to 11.

Between then and minute-this, 1989's Michael Keaton Batman and the spice rack of descendants, 3 Spider-Mans-es, Smallville, Batman: The Animated Series (*****), Hellboy, V For Vendetta, 2 successful Teen Titans toons, Kick-Ass' dual volumes, Spawn, The Crow, League of Extraordinary Gentleman, the CWs TV "Arrow-verse", a little number called the Marvel Cinematic Universe, and 2 Distinctively Contrasted competitive -verses broke the blood-brain barriers of the basic. Not to mention the Game Zone I'm alien to with the Arkhams, Injustices, and a bajillion Marvel joints wherein inmates who've never cracked a comic cover know deep details of the obscurest of print peeps like Grid, the Crime Syndicate Earth-3 doppelganger of Cyborg. "Q" the wing-mate affectionately I tack "Hefner" to the back of his title says he's "hard, he aint gon' lie" regarding the multiversal villain. My secret garden's anybody's Golden Corral nowadays.

20 years back I marveled to buddy Bill W. (no I'm not in alcohol recovery, I hate booze, lock your medicine cabinet tho') I lived to a time where I could own a PVC figure of the O.G. Red Tornado, the common a twister-taming android, this a tough-cookie Bronx housewife from the 1940s who drilling eyes into a stock-pot with long-johns and cape inspired by Green Lantern comedically manhandled mobsters in her 'hood. Abetted by brat-patrol "Tornado Twins" she even had a single-paged gag appearance at the maiden meeting of The Justice Society of America, maybe you 'member from The Rock's "Black Adam" project? Cyclone, the tornadic chick in it is her grandchild Black-washed in a more diverse flick than even "White Men Can't Jump" (lookit me mentioning sports movies). From a Sociology queer at an Historically Black College, you're taking inclusiveness to silly spaces, Warner, Hollywood, America. Any audience is OK with a few Honkies making the cut in a project dominated by Middle Eastern and Black folks including the LEAD. Anyway, my surprise nowadays is there's no TV series streaming yet about the figure that seemed impossible growing up with clunky Mego 8 and 12 inch dolls our ONLY superhero toy choices, why I closeted my shame from Christy and the other little sheeple of Lone Oak Middle.

Leading me and my big mouth better late than never to those uninitiated and my favorite format. My wise and no-longer-living buddy "Big" Joe Turner (fair nickname, too) pointed the advantage of comics to any other method: with actual art, we're able not only to see what's happening outside, but observe the written and drawn psyches of those in the story simultaneously. Robustly when done right (truly Sister, thats 50/50) this is the greatest multidimensional means of storytelling. Yes, for years comic fans wanted their happy places validated to the masses. I'll say on record the superior format came first typically.

Problem getting people to put peddles in the pool is first: comic shops ain't pleasant for pilgrims. "The Big Bang Theory" perfunctorily showed Joe and Jane Average (don't be butt-hurt, I'm sure you're special - I've seen every ep, but then again I WAS a captive audience) "Captain Sweatpants" and the horrors of unattended dames darkening those doors. Really, its not that bad, but not that great either. Those are for them that need (autocorrect made that "nerd" - did AI climb the fence??) them. Maybe someday you'll crave such camaraderie as me sometimes, Grasshoppers. Now as your Pusher-Man, Baby-Doll, I'm gonna meet ya where ya live first.

Choices overwhelm, and the "Baskin/Robbins Breakdown" theory wherein whittling options to one or other helps the indecisive comprising our majority. Without a whisper of reservation, DC Compact Editions "Catwoman: Trail of the Catwoman" at 9.99, a price fit for a thief is a smashing starting point to comic book bliss.

That value encompasses "Selina's Big Score", an acclaimed graphic novel on its own probably 20 bucks about two decades prior as it hit the racks, a 4-part "Trail of the Catwoman" Slam Bradley, vintage DC private eye bit from Detective Comics (Flash Fact: that's where Batman dropped and DC got its name!) and the first 9 issues of Catwoman's comic reboot from the early 2000s. Savoring the illustrated route, days of reading youll revisit to resorb these renderings.

Setup sans spoilers: Selina was retooled early '90s by Frank "Sin City/300" Miller as a call-girl dominatrix inspired by polar magnet Bruce Wayne into a costumed jewel thief robbing rich mobsters. This finds her later having evolved into a selfish flashy opportunist Julie Newmar immortalized first in the camp of '66 TV sets feeling emptied and ennui-ed. Killing herself ritually, metaphorically, and legally in both identities Kyle phoenixes into a tenacious amoral fighter-for-the-forgotten in a practically perfect look - a glance communicates this fiction functionary with the class and power they command.

Apropos of everything, this all coincided with the Halle Barry abomination. Allow me to state Ms. Barry did not make that stinking pile of puke that ignored this antihero spiritual journey film noir epic bad. She did not make it one bit better, either, being blah as the days long, always. Barry grabbed the golden god of Hollyweird because Sidney Poitier deservedly won a distinction (Lifetime Achievement) and due to nobody of color getting one in 30 years spotlighted by this, anyone that way got a trophy that night. Julia Roberts grinning them huge teeth off saying "God, I love my job!" handing the statue to Denzel who like me seemed prepped to punch her in it. Insulted by a pity-lay rightfully, he was smart enough to read the inscription: "Oopsie! Our bad." Nobody wants to be treated "special" if it steals their merit, handing it to the sub-par. As for Selina, her White wall tumbled in the '60s when Ms. Newmar split. Irreplaceable (Meriwether? Meh.)? Dozier and crew smartly saw a broken mold. This the era of actual White-washing discrimination they used legendary lounge sensation and civil rights voice Eartha Kitt already an established real-life Catwoman. Rejecting Newmar's flirtatiousness, Kitt was a cat that struts alone, as later Pfeiffer evoked a crazy cat, unpredictable and precocious. Zoe Kravitz was closest to the playbook. That ground broken this ain't Black-washing but traditional, uncorrupted, and with that where's my series lateral to "Penguin"?? Babs Gordon as a Latina redhead, though? Kill that with fire and take the insurance. Maxine "Cyclone" Hunkle, a freckly PTSD sufferer with a Wizard of Oz fetish? Sorry, I want her left alone. Descended from an obvious Irish Catholic character she has an unashamed space. Hawkman, also in the film sporting a darker shade is a chronically-reincarnated Egyptian that's organic and potentially interesting. Like most things, diversity issues need nuanced approaches and critical thought.

"Big Score" is a retro-ride embracing classical crime-drama cinema from the nineties like "Reservoir Dogs", "Killing Zoe", and "True Romance" plus a smidgen of "Casino" for flavor fullness. Darwyn Cooke is a masterclass architect, writer and artist both. Peer inmate Hoagie, the Oakland Hippie's drunk on his "DC's New Frontier" presently, Yelp!ing it a "masterpiece". This from somebody that don't paint his world with undue adjectives.

Post-Score, Cooke shares his workload with writer-heavyweight Ed Brubaker who writes crime comics deep with drama, horror, romance, and all spectrum betwixt legendarily. Here, using Slam, the old school private dick being us, enchanted uncontrollably by Catwoman who everybody wants to be, be with, or both.

Everyone earns ovation, like inker Mike Allred. He's a monster of art by his lonesome. Seek him and prep for bedazzlement. Cam Stewart plays here too, before his time writing and cover-ing "Batgirl of Burnside" I'm anxiously awaiting the Compact release of this upcoming week. Sean Konot rains hard in "Score" despite not making the front of the release with potent stylized lettering, Willie Schubert too, both contributing formalized atmospheres alongside colorist Matt Hollingsworth whose electrifying digitally-embellished vibes blend with the artists' contemporized vintage style to dizzying grace. Stated, you'll revisit Selinas Kyles Gotham and beyond again quickly.

Already I have said Compacts are the most-est mod method for the moolah for reading remarkable runs on titles. No safaris to savannas of strangers, stacks, and statuettes, no Sir. Take a toiletry trip to Target, masters of decor and design so devious those pushers peddled three shower curtains on me in a single year for my lone tub.

After you've devoured this Cat Chow, munch maybe on "Wonder Woman: Blood and Guts", an epic with Princess Diana da First protecting the mom of another of Zeus' baby-mamas from a drafted-dreamily Hera with artwork I liken to fierce Russian propaganda posters from halcyon Soviet days. Written by Brian "100 Bullets" Azzerello straying a tad from gunmen to write a mob yarn with the Gods of Olympus as la famiglia. Cliff Chiang supplies that serious design, him being the Di drawer of my dreams since a prior project, an issue of Brave and the Bold costarring magician Zatanna and Babs Batgirl Gordon tripping the light fantastic the eve of B.G.'s date with Joker's crippling bullet, off Z's precognitions.

If you crave something more cerebral minus mystery-men, there's "We3", a done-in-one by the unbeatable combo of comics' grooviest guru Grant Morrison and Frank Quitely, the pair responsible for "All-Star Superman", highest recommendations too in this format, and incitement for Gunns Super-dude flick thats my personal #1 cape joint to date likely uprooted by "Supergirl" based on Tom King and Elquis Blithelys "... Woman of Tomorrow" getting the same blessings as this crop. 3" are a trio of upgraded lab animals given sentience and soldier skills for battle becoming more human than their captors. Mine copy's in the mail with 3 more this week, making it my first time in probably 18 years marveling at this masterwork.

Hopefully I've given you much to chew on, and not so much as to choke. Taking a hint from straight-to-Heloise, these are crack, kiddos, welcome your new vice. But do not start stealing internet titles. I stand with Stan Lee who famously said he felt about comics like boobs: fun to check out on the computer, but he wanted to hold 'em in his hands. Ditto, swap boobs for, well, a couple things, and 'nuff said, true believers!