Stuff tends to stack up in the August household.

We have systems in place to optimize magazine readership and recycling,¹ but printed objects of which I am the sole reader — comic books, scripts, serio-comic novels purchased on an Amazon spree — have a tradition of piling up on the corners of desks and counters.

I offer this preamble as partial explanation for my delay in articulating how much I love Marc Andreyko’s Manhunter.

I’m not the first writer of note to notice that it’s great. It features blurbs from Joss Whedon and others. But I came upon so late, and so randomly, that I feel some obligation to point out its merits so others can appreciate it.

As long-term blog readers will know, I have deep respect and shallow knowledge when it comes to the comic book world. I didn’t grow up reading them. My teenage years were spent around the D&D table, arguing over the relative merits of a vorpal blade vs. a sword of sharpness.² That and snow-caving. (Colorado + Boy Scouts = unsafe survivalism.)

So a few months ago, when I was in Golden Apple picking up the latest Black Adam, I had no idea that Manhunter was a DC character, or that Marc Andreyko was doing a new series with a female protagonist: Kate Spencer, a D.A. with no special abilities, a failed marriage and a smoking habit. I would have passed it on the shelf, unopened, except that Marc Andreyko happened to be in Golden Apple at that moment, and recognized me from a screening of The Nines.

After a friendly chat, I asked him what he wrote. He put three trade paperbacks of Manhunter in my hands. Which then landed in one of my to-read piles.

I read all three over Christmas, back-to-back, forgoing sleep and egg nog.

Other than Batman, I never had much use for superheroes who couldn’t fly or punch through walls. If I wanted normal people, I’d read a novel. What Manhunter does so well is create a deeply flawed and funny hero who has to interact with the super-powered every day. As a prosecutor, Spencer has to deal with all the villainous debris left behind after the capes fly off. And one day, frustrated by guilty psychopaths going free, she decides to deliver justice herself.

The series is set in LA, rather than a mythical surrogate city, so having direct references to real places is refreshing. The book manages to weave in a who’s-who of minor DC villains, with some big names showing up in unexpected ways.

There’s no shortage of ambition in the comics world — that’s one of the things I admire most about it, as opposed to features. But the combination of ambition and execution in the Manhunter series is why I’d urge you to give it a shot.

1. When finished with a magazine your significant other and/or roommate may also wish to read, write (your name) read in big letters across the cover with a Sharpie. Then the other person may safely recycle the magazine after reading. ↩
2. You can see a summary of the vorpal/sharpness situation here. And no, I didn’t write it. ↩

Circumstances have left me a single dad this week, so it’s unlikely I’ll make it out to the picket line for more than a brief visit. (Toddlers enjoy signs and lines, but not for three hours at a stretch.)

This doesn’t mean you shouldn’t go. Go, and report back what you see.

Monday’s picketing is all centered at Fox, with SAG joining in solidarity. Any time you have actors on the picket line, the number of photographers increases exponentially, so it’s a good opportunity to get your face on the news — standing behind that guy from Desperate Housewives.¹ Your mom will save it on the DVR for years, like my Mom did with the Broadcast Film Critics Awards, until the machine finally expired.

Can I just say I love SAG?

Throughout the strike, the media has had fun portraying a Good Cop/Bad Cop thing between the DGA and WGA. It’s not accurate at all, but here it goes: the DGA is reasonable and calm and polite (Good Cop), while the WGA is trashing the room and making threats (Bad Cop). The suspect (in this case, the AMPTP) would naturally prefer to deal with Good Cop, who professes to be on his side against the bully waiting out in the hall. “Just give me something I can use,” says Good Cop.

Extending this analogy, SAG is that wild-eyed guy you have locked up down the hall. Both Good Cop and Bad Cop are happy to point out that unless they can make some progress, the alternative is sharing a cell with That Guy. And he’s effing crazy. He’ll light his arm on fire.

For the record, I don’t think SAG is crazy or pyromaniac. I think they’re smart to point out that they have many of the same concerns about new media, along with other actor-specific issues. I suspect they’ll be out in force on Monday, not because they want to strike, but because they want to let everyone know they would and could.

Me? I’ll be explaining to a toddler why sofas aren’t for jumping, blocks aren’t for throwing, and blueberry pancakes aren’t the only food to eat.

1. Just don’t do that two-finger antenna thing; James Denton could kick your ass. ↩