This stands out as one of the best Spider-Man stories to come along in some time, and it's the sort of thing that shows just what Paul Jenkins is capable of. I'm reminded of the strength of the stories from the now-cancelled Spider-Man's Tangled Web series. To be fair, though, it's entirely possible that I'm biased.
The main character in this story is a young guy with cerebral palsy. One of my brothers has cerebral palsy. It's not as limiting a form of the condition as the character here exhibits. My kid brother has no problem talking, for example (man, does he talk). But he has a live-in attendant to helps him with physical tasks and cooks for him, for instance. My brother's brilliant -- he's a law professor, about the same age as many of his students -- and he can be a royal pain in the ass. He's really quite a unique individual, and I know that some people don't see beyond his wheelchair.
When people find out my brother is in a wheelchair, they ask what's wrong with him. I joke and say he's just lazy.
Despite his articulate nature and impressive profession, I know my brother yearns for something more... just a little more, really, something we all just take for granted. I know he would love to hit a basketball court, dribble the ball down and ust perform a simple layup. He loves basketball. He gets involved in his own way, as a statistician at games, as a scorekeeper. To the rest of us, it seems so simple a dream. But his is as powerful a dream as anything any one of us able-bodied folks has. His dream is enough to make him feel special, I think.
On the rooftop of a New York apartment building, sits Joey Beal. He has cerebral palsy. He's confined to a wheelchair and can't talk. He relies on his father and sister to care for him. Most of us would look at him and find it impossible to imagine life like that. But Joey is alive, more vitally than the average joe might imagine. Joey's mind is alive. He's perceptive and actually quite smart. He's full of imagination and courage. And one night, he sees something from his rooftop viewpoint, something dark and dangerous lurking in one of the abandoned apartments across the street. And it's seen him.
Rivera's painted artwork boasts a dark and eerie atmosphere, but it's also remarkably realistic, reinforcing the grounded quality of the main character. His painted style is remarkably effective at capturing the speed and agility of the title character, and I love his Nosferatu-esque portrayal of a classic Spidey villain. He also convincingly depicts the spastic and unfortunate quality of Joey's condition, not to mention the urban beauty of a rooftop view of the city. I would imagine crafting such painted artwork is a time-consuming process, but I hope it's not long before we're treated to more of Rivera's comic art.
My favorite moment in the book comes in the form of a brief referennce in the script. Jenkins notes that Joey's father probably resented him at some point, "probably hated the sight of me." We see that Joey's family cherishes him now and cares for him out of love, but I appreciate Jenkins's acknowledgement that human emotion isn't always a pure thing, that dark thoughts cross our minds, ones we're loathe to admit to anybody.
Jenkins offers up a powerful portrayal of life with cerebral palsy. Joey's exterior self is misleading, and through the narration, Jenkins shows that an intelligent and powerful personality lies within that limited shell. Jenkins also demonstrates that understands what cerebral is. Many people think it's a disease or genetic condition. I once had an argument with one of my junior high teachers about cerebral palsy after I corrected him in class, noting it was not a disease.
But I digress. As you can see, this subject is an important one to me and my family, and I applaud Jenkins for his masterful handling of it.
See? I told you I was biased.
