Will Grayson, Will Grayson is a very good book, very good book.  

Let’s just get that out of the way early so any criticism I present will seem paltry in comparison.  The novel is smartly written and deals sensitively with a topic that’s probably more of an issue with image-conscious teens than adults – having an openly gay best friend.

As the curious title might imply, the story is told by two boys, both named Will Grayson, who live in the Chicago area. The first Will Grayson (let’s call him Will #1) is a likable but timid guy who always tries to do the right thing but can quickly lapse into self-recrimination whenever it brings unwanted attention to himself. His timidity probably isn’t helped by the fact that his best friend is a giant of a young man, ironically called “Tiny,” who’s not only a football star but is unabashedly gay with loud moments of great drama.  Will #1’s relationship with Tiny goes all the way back to elementary school. Even in those early days, Tiny possessed a level of courage and self-confidence that produces from Will #1 envy, admiration and embarrassment.  Will #1’s hypocrisy often makes life with Tiny a challenge.

Will #2 is an inner-city kid who has struggles of his own. He tries to manage both his depression and his homosexuality by keeping himself isolated from most other people. His difficulty with other people has prompted Will #2 to construct an elaborate online relationship with an unseen boy named Isaac. Can you see trouble a-brewing here?  It turns out that “Isaac” is the creation of a female classmate who is angered by Will #2’s disinterest in her and has made it her personal quest to out him. Will #2 discovers the deception when he agrees to finally meet “Isaac” and finds himself standing in the doorway of a porn shop in a seedy Chicago neighborhood. This is where he encounters – purely by chance – the other Will Grayson. Will #2 confides his humiliation to the stranger with the same name who, being an inherently empathetic person, responds kindly.  It is through Will #1 that Will #2 meets Tiny, whose undying sense of romance manages to pull the boy out of his dark funk and experience affection with a real person.

The rest of the novel deals with the intertwined relationships between these characters, set against the backdrop of an autobiographical play Tiny is producing for his high school.  The play contains caricatures of many of his friends, including both Wills, which is both revealing and uncomfortable for all parties.

The novel is refreshing in that it avoids the usual coming-of-age or tortured-soul themes that often mark novels on this topic. Although Tiny’s flamboyant behavior is often a source of embarrassment to his friends, they never persecute him for it. Likewise, when Will #2 begins to come out to others, he finds most of his friends and his mother to be very supportive. This may not be a reality enjoyed by many American gay youth, but it is a happy possibility that may give some hope.  

The book is written in first person with alternating chapters written by the respective Wills. Authors John Green and David Levithan do a good job of giving both boy a separate and distinctive voice, mainly because each wrote a Will independently of the other. If there was one off-putting thing about this technique, it was Will #2’s voice which is written almost entirely in “cyber speak.”  While it is true that a disturbing number of teenagers believe that “what” is spelled without an “h” and that capital letters don’t exist at all, reading ten chapters of this proved irksome.  I kept wanting to send Will #2 to remedial English class.

This being said, the authors were spot-on in their characterizations of modern teens.  Even the cruel deception that Will #2’s classmate perpetrates could be lifted right off the front page of a modern newspaper (...uh, make that the homepage of a news websites.) One thing that did surprise me (I won’t use the word troubled here), was the virtual lack of any relationship between the two Wills. Once they have their chance encounter in the porn shop, and a touching moment of spontaneous bonding on the street, the two characters never see each other again until the last pages of the book. The boys acknowledge the weirdness of having the same name and being drawn through circumstances to a place neither of them would normally go, but then the happenstance seems to be forgotten. I point this out because it seems almost as though the book is miss-titled. By the time the Wills meet, the book is really about Tiny.  

​Still, all things considered, Will Grayson, Will Grayson is a mesmerizing novel that I had a hard time putting down.  It’s worthy of all the kudos its received from other critics and I personally look forward to other titles from these authors.  

All June, Bookshop.org is celebrating Pride Month by offering 15% off on select titles. I have curated my own selections for Laughing Boy Books, concentrating on LGBTQ titles that intersect with nerd genres such as science fiction, fantasy, horror, dystopian, myth and legend and select young adult. 

The 15% discount applies to any of the titles shown below and is valid through June 30, 2026. Use code Pride26 at checkout. Discount off list price. Excludes ebooks.

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The 1980s were home to plenty of animated TV shows used as gross marketing ploys to sell toys to kids. But for those of us who grew up during that era, we hardly cared. We still hurried home every afternoon to watch our favorites — and one of the most famous was He-Man and the Masters of the Universe. 

Indeed, He-Man ruled the airwaves and toy aisles. If you’ve ever found yourself shouting "I have the power!" while brandishing a plastic sword, then you’re no stranger to the legendary Masters of the Universe franchise.

At the heart of this epic saga is He-Man, a superhero who hid his rippling muscles and superhuman strength behind the alter ego of the mild-mannered Prince Adam. Together with his trusty allies, He-Man defended the mystical secrets of Castle Grayskull and the entire universe from his sinister uncle, Skeletor. 

The television series "He-Man and the Masters of the Universe" was a colossal hit in the 1980s, skyrocketing sales of Mattel's action figures to new heights. Kids across the country couldn’t get enough of of He-Man and he certainly inspired other toy companies to follow suit. See my blog Reliving 1980s Animated TV.

But the magic didn’t stop at the small screen. The show was accompanied by comic book tie-ins which continue up to this day. And while He-Man’s adventures were initially confined to the TV, toys, and comics, it wasn’t long before motion pictures followed. The first big screen adaptation, Masters of the Universe, hit theaters in 1987, with the aptly-cast Dolph Lundgren squeezing into He-Man's iconic furry cod-piece. While the film might now be considered a cult classic, at the time it was a disaster. No wonder if took nearly forty years to get a reboot, this time with Nicholas Galitzine wielding the Sword of Power. The film releases on June 5. 

He-Man has become more than just a character; he's a cultural icon. Over the years, countless books have been penned about the TV series, toys, comics, and He-Man's monumental impact on pop culture. He-Man's true strength is in the joy and nostalgia he continues to bring to generations of fans — so I’ve put together a curated list that touches on the show, the comics, the toys and the cultural influence. 

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​I grew up loving giant monster movies. I'd tune into them every Saturday afternoon by middle school I was making my own versions using an old 8mm camera. Later, I relived the fun as Elvira's Movie Macabre and Mystery Science Theater 3000 hilariously riffed on them.

I’ve wanted to create a list of the best comics and graphic novels featuring giant monsters (also referred to as kaiju) for a while now, but I thought I’d start with some background on this cultural phenomenon, at least as it relates to pop culture. 

King Kong (1933) is generally considered the foundational giant monster in popular culture. (There are some earlier examples, of course, but Kong started giant monsters down a path to popularity, which continues to this day.) Even as I'm writing this, it occurs to me that just last night I was watching the big monkey punch out Titan X on Monarch: The Legacy of Monsters. Time creeps along, but big monsters persist, I guess.

At the time of its release, Kong was probably viewed as a kind of Beauty and the Beast tale... the savage animal is tamed by his inexplicable love for a tiny blond woman (Fay Wray). More modern sensibilities probably see it differently, with Kong and his imitators — like Mighty Joe Young — symbolizing human exploitation of nature. But after World War II and with the onset of the nuclear age, giant monsters took on new and more sinister significance.

The best known of this new breed of monster was Godzilla, introduced in 1954 by Toho Studios and a direct metaphor for the nuclear age. Japanese giant monsters (also known as kaiju) were no longer oddities of nature captured from remote and exotic lands to be displayed in a sideshow. Now they were heartless killing machines created by human meddling in the natural world. The message was clear — humanity is fucked, and we did it to ourselves. Godzilla may be stamping Tokyo into oblivion, but he wouldn’t be doing any of that if we hadn’t set off nuclear warheads in Bikini Atoll. 

During the same era and across the Pacific Ocean, giant animals terrorized American communities. In most cases, American monsters weren't as fanciful as their Japanese counterparts, but rather existing species mutated to immense size by radioactivity or other human technology gone awry. Massive spiders, Gila monsters, ants, and grasshoppers ran rampant through small towns and big cities alike. They too warned of the horrors of radioactivity and nuclear testing, but bringing it home to small towns and middle class neighborhoods.

Ultimately, maybe even paradoxically, these behemoths were brought down by the might of the modern military, while some humbled scientists waxed philosophical about humanity's persistent habit of “meddling in God’s domain.”

From the 1960s through the 1980s, giant monsters stepped out of the horror realm and became superheroes marketed as family entertainment. Big monsters might still be threatening humanity and destroying cities, but now we could count on friendlier kaiju to chase them off. In 1965, Daiei Film introduced a flying, fire-breathing turtle called Gamera, who was intended to compete directly with Toho’s Godzilla. Billed as “the protector of humanity,” the Gamera films prominently featured child characters who both empathized and could communicate with Gamera. 

By the early 90s, misguided science again burdened us with giant monsters of dark purpose. Jurassic Park led the way by reanimating extinct dinosaurs, which its sequels exaggerated to absurd lengths. Giant monsters became something we both feared and mocked. Parodies and near-parodies like Leviathan, Arachnophobia, Deepstar Six, Tremors, and the ongoing Godzilla and Gamera series mixed horror with humor, and often downplayed moralizing in favor of a more dystopian tone. This trend continues today, giving us some very watchable films like Pacific Rim, Cloverfield, Pitch Black, The Host, Cabin in the Woods, Kong: Skull Island, and Trollhunter.

Though giant monsters found fame in film, they’ve also starred in many books. Below, I’ve selected titles reflecting these trends, and though the vast majority of books are about Godzilla, and I've tried to throw in a few surprises as well. Most, but not all, are comics or graphic novels. 

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I grew up with Superman and Spider-man. They were literally my first great comic book loves.

As a child, I obsessively watched the black-and-white repeats of The Adventures of Superman (1952-1958) starring George Reeves or got up early every Saturday morning to thrill to Super Friends (1973-1985), where the Man of Steel was indisputably the lead character.

Afternoons were Spider-Man time. The 1967 animated series ran in syndication after school — and yes, like so many nerds of my generation, I can still sing the iconic theme song in its entirety. 

But the afternoons also meant I could look forward to Stan Lee's Spider-Man comic strips, which ran daily in the Tucson Citizen newspaper starting in 1977.

In my youth, I don't know if I ever imagined Superman and Spider-Man teaming up. But thanks to Marvel and DC Comics continuing their tradition of superhero cross-overs, we have a new Superman / Spider-Man comic book. Like previous versions, it contains various stories, this time spearheaded by powerhouse creators like Mark Waid, Jorge Jimenez and Jim Lee.

Thanks to decades of variants and multiverses, the book features different team ups — sometimes of Superman and Spider-Man, but also of their friends, family members and tangential characters. My two favorites were titled "Truth, Justice and Great Responsibility" and "Tapping In."

The first features the iconic versions of the main characters going up again Doctor Octopus who's under control of Brainiac. The artwork by Jorge Jimenez is fantastic!

Other stories include:

"The World's Finest" finds Lois Lane and Mary Jane Watson in a friendly and humorous conversation about careers and navigating relationships with super-powered men with secret identities. Plus, they crush hard on Gambit. 

"The Bridge" offers some "dad to dad" bonding as Jonathan Kent and Ben Parker encounter each other during a torrential storm — and prove that their son/nephew aren't the only heroes in their families. 

"Beyond the Cobwebs of Tomorrow" features Superboy and Spider-Man 2099, with Batman. In this story, the superheroes realize that they're on parallel paths as they slip through time to stop the brutal reigns of Dr. Doom and Lex Luthor. 

"Jimmy con Carnage" is an amusing short where Jimmy Olsen leaves Metropolis and goes to work with Peter Parker at the Daily Bugle, where he must endure the ultimate boss-from-hell — J. Jonah Jameson. In is quest to please J. Jonah with photos of Spider-Man ("who's Spider-Man??"), Jimmy mistakes Carnage for the web-slinger. 

"Bias" takes a page from our modern talk news with Lois Lane and J. Jonah Jameson having a fiery debate about media and how it covers the likes of Superman and Spider-Man. And also Wonder Woman, Captain America and the Fantastic Four. 

Continue to watch this website as I will be debuting a curated Spider-Man book list in the near future. You can find my Superman Collection here.

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Godzilla rampages across the United States in IDW’s "Godzilla vs. America" series, with each comic unleashing chaos on a different city. The latest installment, "Godzilla vs. Portland," released in March 2026, invites readers to experience this unique blend of local culture and monster mayhem. I couldn’t resist picking up a copy when I stumbled upon it during a visit to Portland this past weekend.

One of the standout features of this miniseries is its commitment to authenticity, which engages local writers and artists to capture the essence of each city. "Godzilla vs. Portland" is no exception, and it’s clear that the contributors have a genuine love for the City of Roses. The comic contains four short stories, each offering a different slice of life from Portland, albeit with a giant lizard stomping through town.

The stories within "Godzilla vs. Portland" vary in quality, with two particular tales standing out above the rest.

Dog Day Afternoon by Cat Farris was my favorite. This story captures Portland’s quirky culture by focusing on two locals engrossed in a heated debate over the city’s official hot dog recipe. Amidst debate, they remain blissfully unaware of Godzilla’s destruction all around them. Farris nails the Portland vibe, from therapy llamas to the gag-inducing mention of kale sauerkraut, making it a delightful parody that resonates beyond the monster chaos.

High Score by Caitlin Yarsky, set in 1981, connects Portland’s Polybius urban legend to Godzilla’s arrival. A local news reporter makes a startling discovery — achieving a certain score on the mythical arcade game summons the monster from the Willamette River. It's pure classic monster movie melodrama with a modern day twist. 

While I enjoyed these stories, I wonder if the anthology’s highly local-centric approach might limit its appeal, especially for readers unfamiliar with Portland. Many in-jokes and cultural references may not resonate or could be misunderstood by outsiders. The risk with such a concept is that it can lean too heavily on stereotypes or niche humor, which is primarily appreciated by residents, making it less engaging for a broader audience.

​However, even with these potential hurdles, the anthology remains an entertaining concept. The juxtaposition of a global icon like Godzilla with the idiosyncrasies of various American cities makes for a fun read. 

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Superman: The Harvest of Youth by Sina Grace explores Clark Kent's formative years, set against the tranquil farming community of Smallville as he navigates the trials of high school. Despite having all his superpowers, Clark has yet to embrace the Superman identity or even understand how best to use them. 

The story kicks off as Clark arrives at Smallville High to find that Alvin Buenaventura, a new and largely unnoticed peer, has tragically taken his own life on campus.

The incident deeply disturbs Clark, who, through his superpowers, accidentally witnesses the grim scene. Haunted by a sense of responsibility, Clark remembers his brief time on the track team with Alvin and wishes he could have intervened. In an attempt to find solace and extend support, Clark, alongside Lana Lang, reaches out to Alvin's sister, Amy. As they console her, Amy asks for their help decoding a mysterious kangaroo drawing found among Alvin's belongings.

Amy and Clark develop a budding affection as they try to understand Alvin’s suicide. They uncover that the kangaroo image is an Australian cartoon character called Darby-Roo, which has been co-opted by American hate groups. This revelation foreshadows troubling events as armed teenagers disrupt a high school debate meeting. Clark swiftly neutralizes them, only to realize the guns were harmless toys. Among the saved is a young Lex Luthor.

As Darby Roo's misogynistic graffiti starts popping up around Smallville, Clark's friend, Gilbert Stockwell, becomes ensnared by the group's toxic online community. Following a frustrating skateboarding accident, Gilbert grows distant and resentful towards his friends and finds solace among his online “friends.” Clark, hoping to redirect Gilbert's anger, secures him an internship at LuthorCorp through his friendly connection with Lex.
However, Gilbert's bitterness only festers, and spurred on by the shadowy leader of the Darby-Roo group, he exploits his new role at LuthorCorp to unleash a small army of robots on the Downtown Smallville festival. With Pete's help, Clark neutralizes the threat, leading to Gilbert's arrest and subsequent placement in juvenile detention. 

It’s Lana who uncovers that the sinister Darby-Roo group is orchestrated by Mister Mxyzptlk, a mischievous imp from the fifth dimension known for creating chaos to amuse himself. In this case, Mister Mxyzptlk is  tapping into the rage and resentment of young men to create chaos. Having Mister Mxyzptlk as the mastermind behind the Darby-Roo conspiracy is a good choice, but he is not fully explained in this book, and probably only seasoned Superman readers would catch who he truly is!

Indeed, if Clark once fought Nazis and the Ku Klux Klan, his 21st-century adversaries in The Harvest of Youth are incels and online hate groups. The narrative effectively illustrates how both positive and negative online reinforcements can skew perceptions, pushing ordinary individuals towards irrational actions.

The dialogue and character interactions are crafted with authenticity. In particular, Gilbert's descent into anger, fueled by his resentment toward male “pick-up artists” (i.e., boys who can get dates like Clark and Pete) and toward women (especially those he thinks have rejected him, like Lana and Chloe), is portrayed with chilling accuracy. But while Gilbert is a highly effective character, other familiar Smallville faces, like Chloe, feel underutilized. Additionally, the initial mystery surrounding Alvin's suicide remains mostly unresolved. We are left to assume that his rejection by the Darby-Roos was the impetus for his suicide, but this is vague, and we never really learn much about him. 

Despite some minor shortcomings, the book delivers a poignant message about the limits of Clark's abilities. The realization that he can't save everyone — especially from themselves — underscores a reality he will struggle with his entire life. The portrayal of Clark as an empathic and hopeful "regular kid" with hidden abilities naturally recalls the appeal of the "Smallville" TV series.

However, the artwork doesn't quite match the story's depth, leaning towards a cartoonish style that I personally found distracting. Did anyone else think Lex Luthor looked too much like Tintin? 

In sum, Superman: The Harvest of Youth is a thoughtful exploration of Clark Kent's early years, blending familiar superhero elements with timely social commentary. While it may have its flaws, it remains a compelling read for fans old and new.

RELATED: Superman Collection | When Jason Todd Helped Save Superman

Nightwing's decision to patrol the streets rather than the rooftops shows he's committed to seeing the city from the perspective of its inhabitants — literally experiencing it at Ground Zero. As Dick himself reflects, “To understand how my home is changing... I have to see it from the same angles as everyone else who lives here.”

While cruising a newly built superhighway, Nightwing encounters a bedraggled woman wandering in and out of traffic. In true Dick Grayson fashion, he offers her a ride, thinking she might need medical care. (Can you imagine Batman picking up a hitchhiker?) But Nightwing’s act of kindness takes a bizarre turn when the woman pulls a knife on him, claiming to be a witch. Naturally, Nightwing is inclined to think she's having a mental breakdown or is under the influence of something.

The situation escalates when the woman starts bleeding from the eyes. Nightwing is anxious to get her to the hospital, but she insists they stay on the highway to reach "the crossroads." It's all very cryptic and supernatural. Their resulting struggle for control of the car concludes in a massive pileup. The woman vanishes, leaving behind countless casualties, including an injured Nightwing is left to question if she was even real. And if she wasn't, he's directly responsible for the disaster.

If a story about an orphaned boy, the soul survivor of a mass murder, being raised by the residents of a haunted graveyard sounds ghoulish, well, it is. But would you also believe it's charming?

Appropriately called The Graveyard Book, this 2008 novel is by English author Neil Gaiman who's best known for his macabre masterpiece, Coraline (2002). The Graveyard Book was his first full length novel after Coraline and it shares some of the same grim themes.

The story begins on the night of the murder when the young protagonist manages to free himself from his crib and wander out into the night just as a shadowy killer called "the man Jack" is doing in his mother, father and older sister. The tot ends up at the gates of the cemetery at the top of the hill, where the ghostly residents gather to debate his fate. When "the man Jack" shows up a few minutes later, it becomes all too obvious the child is alone and utterly vulnerable. The ghosts agree to protect him. A childless couple volunteer to act as his parents; and they appoint Silas – who may or may not be a vampire – to be his guardian as he can leave the cemetery and bring back food and other supplies for the boy. They name the toddler Nobody – "Bod" for short – and the graveyard becomes his permanent home. 

In many ways, the cemetery is the book's central character. Lavishly detailed by Gaiman, the reader comes to know every nook and cranny of the place, and appreciate it not just as a domicile for spooks, but as a refuge for the living. Bestowed with "the freedom of the graveyard," Bod is able to move about its confines safely, interacting with both the dead and the various types of wildlife which inhabit its wooded hills.

Life here is idyllic in many ways. Bod forms friendly, even loving attachments to many of the spirits who share his sprawling backyard, some of whom date back to England's prehistory. They play with him, teach him, occasionally fight with him. But it's never quite the same as having living, breathing people around. So Bod is particularly excited when he befriends a girl named Scarlett who lives in the nearby village and comes to the graveyard to play. Scarlett's parents are convinced their daughter's friend is a harmless figment of her imagination, but this changes when Bod takes her to see the most unique feature of the cemetery: an ancient Celtic crypt. The crypt was never used by the chieftain for whom it was built, but that doesn't mean the space is unoccupied. A serpent-like creature who calls itself "The Sleer" guards the place and does its best to terrify the two children. After Scarlett describes her adventure to her parents, she's not allowed to return to the cemetery and soon moves away.

His brief friendship with Scarlett makes Bod long even more to explore the outside world. But Silas is quick to remind him "the man Jack" who killed his parents is still at large and still hunting him. To help protect him against this lingering threat, the graveyard residents instruct Bod in a variety of supernatural skills. He learns how to manifest himself in other people's dreams, slip in and out of the shadows and vanish from sight the instant someone's attention is turned. Eventually, he's allowed to attend the local school, but when he uses these special powers to intimidate some bullies, his academic career is cut short.

The book culminates with "the man Jack's" elaborate attempt to draw the now teenaged Bod out of the graveyard, using Scarlett as bait. But details behind why "the man Jack" is so interested in the youth may be The Graveyard Book's weakest point. When the final reveal comes, it's like a whodunnit novel where vital clues were withheld from the reader. I enjoyed the ambiguous nature of "the man Jack" and the murderous fraternal order to which he belongs, but I wanted to understand why he was particularly interested in Bod. In the end, the explanation seemed vague and the book's central mystery wasn't as satisfying as many of its sub-plots.

Regardless, The Graveyard Book is a compelling, often touching novel with themes and characters young adults will gobble up. Gaiman is particularly adept at constructing compelling dialogue and historical dialects. In fact, if I can bestow a high compliment, he's the best I've found at this since I read Robert Louis Stevenson as a teenager.

The Graveyard Book won numerous awards – including a Hugo, Newbery, and Carnegie Medal – and deserved every one of them. It's the first title I've read by Gaiman. It won't be the last.

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I first read Lord of the Flies, by British author William Golding, in the late 1980s and quickly became obsessed. Having just graduated from high school, I knew the joys and ugliness of teenage tribalism well. A film adaptation starring Balthazar Getty was released soon after, and since I managed a video rental store, I watched it and the 1963 version multiple times, increasing my admiration for the book. (FYI, the ‘63 film is far superior if you need to choose one.)

Flies may have been Golding’s debut novel, but its themes were something he understood very well. During World War II, he served in the Royal Navy and took part in the bloody D-Day landings in Normandy. The reality of war deeply influenced his writing, and when he started working on Flies, he, like the rest of humanity, was living under the specter of nuclear annihilation at the dawn of the Cold War. The book’s brilliance lies in distilling these existential threats into a deceptively simple survival story on a South Pacific island.  

The story begins with a wartime evacuation during what we assume is some kind of nuclear exchange. A plane crashes on a deserted island and a group of British preadolescent schoolboys are the only survivors. Ralph, by virtue of age and physicality, becomes the leader. He befriends Piggy and uses his glasses to start a signal fire. Ralph’s leadership seems very wise for his age as he encourages the group to stay positive, gather resources, and maintain the fire for rescue.

However, the boys’ resolve fades as they grow distracted. Fear of a fearsome jungle "beast" takes hold, and a rival boy named Jack gains influence by promising to hunt the monsters down. During one hunt, the signal fire dies out, and a rescue ship passes by without stopping.

The boys’ tribalism worsens when a fighter pilot’s corpse lands by parachute onto the island and is mistaken for the “beast.” Jack creates his own tribe, offers a pig's head to the monster, and comes to represent authoritarianism and primal power, while Ralph symbolizes intellect and empathy. Although Ralph is initially baffled and repulsed by how easily the boys follow Jack’s fear-mongering, even he is not immune to mob rule. But his reluctance and regret for his own violent actions appear weak to Jack's tribe, who, now frenzied, hunt Ralph with tragic consequences. 

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