As a kid, pretty much every summer was spent in the back of a car with my dog and a stack of comics while we drove around the country. I was a pretty aggressive reader of superhero comics, which is why, in the summer of 1985, I was so incredibly pleased by the publication of Who's Who: The Definitive Directory to the DC Universe. For those who missed this, it was basically full or half-page descriptions of every character who had appeared in a DC publication, ever.

For a borderline obsessive like myself, these comics were incredibly addictive. I simply could not read enough about every obscure character, particularly those who I had never actually come across in my 8 years or so of reading comics. This led to some unfortunate purchases (e.g., the Ragman miniseries) but also led to some fantastic discoveries. Perhaps my favorite aspect of the series was the incredibly inclusive approach taken by the editors (Len Wein, Marv Wolfman, and Bob Greenberger, if you're curious); the A-list superheroes (Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman) co-existed with one-shot villains (Firebug), Wild West sheriffs and cattle rustlers (Jonah Hex, Bat Lash), goofy 60's sci-fi heroes (Adam Strange, Space Cabbie) even characters as seemingly out of place as pirates and WW1 fighter pilots. Looking back on it now, the broad range of stories makes perfect sense, given the shifting tastes of a fickle comic-reading public, but at the time it seemed like it was one giant attempt to create the most incredibly fully realized parallel universe conceivable. Every era of history, every genre, seemed to be represented in these comics and, by placing them all side-by-side in Who's Who, established all of them in the same continuity.

Almost immediately after DC began publishing Who's Who, they proceeded to start mucking about with their own continuity in a truly wanton fashion. The topic is way too big to get into here (I highly recommend Scott Tipton's column for a proper explanation of Crisis on Infinite Earths), but the upshot is that DC felt that a complete reboot was in order and the wonderful sense of grand story implied by Who's Who was largely chucked out the window.

Which brings me around to Starman, James Robinson's 80-issue series regarding Jack Knight, the son of Ted Knight, aka Starman, a largely second-tier golden age hero. I had been hearing about the series for a while, and finally tracked down the first couple trade paperbacks. They were interesting, if a little ham-handedly written. The series opens with the death of the new Starman, Jack's brother David. Quite a lot of the first few issues deal with Jack's uneasy relationship with his father, his disinterest in assuming the role of Starman, guilt over his brother's death - all of which fall a little flat. Once the series gets the setup out of the way, the real appeal of the series starts to shine through.

Jack Knight is, when he's not the defender of Opal City, an antiques dealer, or, as his father derisively refers to it, a "junk collector." Fairly early on, it becomes apparent that, not only is the main character interested in collecting and appreciating junk, but so is Robinson. Not only does Robinson work every version of Starman (there have been 7 Starmen in the DC Universe - plus a Star Boy, who also shows up) into the series, but also a wide variety of discarded characters like...

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Rating: A

Topics: comics