I’ve just finished a novel about a superhero. I’ve never been a connoisseur of comics and haven’t bought one since around 1983, when as a small child I did indeed partake of the occasional copy of The Beano, but I never found myself particularly drawn to comic-based superheroes and their universe.
My brief foray into the world of Marvel came as a result of the fact that Lisa Jewell, a well-established contemporary novelist and one of my personal favourites, has been commissioned to write the first book in what has been billed the “brand-new Marvel crime series for adults, introducing fans to a grittier, street-level side of the Marvel Universe.” Whilst characters with superpowers are not my usual bag, I frankly didn’t care: if it’s written by Jewell, I’m definitely in. I placed the book on reserve immediately.
Responses to the novel have been predictably varied and it’s been a great deal of fun to watch people flailing with panic as the classifications by which they like their world to be defined take a superpowered punch to the gut. POW! BAM! BOOM! Comics and superhero stories seem to divide the world like nothing else can, inspiring cult-like loyalty and adoration from their fans, matched in intensity by the sneering contempt from non-fans, who consider the genre to be nothing more than commercialised tat, a world which has nothing to do with literature. As with all divisive topics, the truth no doubt lies somewhere in the middle. All in all, Jewell’s authorship of Breaking the Dark, a Jessica Jones Marvel Crime Novel seems to have annoyed absolutely everybody: an excellent reason to read it.
For me, there is something genuinely remarkable about a novelist who can turn their hand to a variety of writing styles. Jewell is pleasingly unpredictable as an author, and has penned stories in a variety of different genres, from poignant kitchen-sink dramas through coming-of-age novels up to dark, psychological thrillers. You never know what she’s going to write next and I absolutely love that about her. I punched the air with a BIFF when I discovered that Marvel had selected her as the wordsmith for their radical experiment with the genre of the adult novel, and I sincerely hope that she was renumerated to the extent that one might expect from such a potentially lucrative commission. Even if everyone hates it, the book will no doubt sell in the millions. KER-CHING as well as KER-POW.
Novelists that can turn their hand to a variety of genres make people a little uncomfortable, I think. Unless they are spectacularly successful, I suspect they make publishers uncomfortable too. When a writer has a success, most publishers want them to produce more of the same, and it can be a leap of faith for them to back a change of direction. Sometimes, authors write under more than one name, to indicate that change of direction. JK Rowling writes her Cormoran Strike novels under the name of Robert Galbraith, and indeed she approached the publisher under this pseudonym in a quest for genuine feedback. Ruth Rendell wrote psychological thrillers and crime fiction, whilst also writing more introspective, character-driven mysteries under the pseudonym of Barabara Vine. Some novelists, however, write with enormous range under their own name, leaving their fans guessing as to where their imagination will take them next: John Fowles, Kazuo Ishiguro and Lisa Jewell are three authors that exemplify this remarkable talent. While there is security in picking up the novel of someone predictable, there is real joy and adventure in entrusting yourself to an unpredictable penmaster. Jewell is one of those rare authors who writes so well in such a range of styles that I will try anything she produces: hence, this week I found myself immersed in the world of Jessica Jones, superhero, friend of The Avengers, who has superhuman strength, enhanced durability, rapid healing and the ability to fly (although she doesn’t like it). WHOOSH!
Not being in any way familiar with the Marvel universe, I read Jewell’s novel as a standalone and the character of Jessica Jones — a household name to die-hard Marvel fans — was new to me. A large number of those fans are infuriated by the imposition of Jewell’s writing upon their familiar world and an equally large number of Jewell fans seem to be incensed by the novel’s easy prose and youthful characterisation. “It reads like a YA novel!” wails one critic on GoodReads, as if the very notion of writing for a younger audience is an insult.
Is it a literary classic? Of course not. Was Jewell setting out to write one? One presumes that wasn’t the brief. What she has done is to produce a highly entertaining read, one which this relative newcomer to the world of the superhero enjoyed immensely. And let’s be honest: there’s nothing quite so pleasing as a successful book that infuriates almost everyone.
