{"title":"《爱、性、性别与超级英雄》,杰弗里·A·布朗著,罗格斯大学出版社,2022年。","authors":"Cary Elza","doi":"10.1111/jacc.13486","DOIUrl":null,"url":null,"abstract":"<p>While scholarship on superheroes is prolific, Jeffrey A. Brown has succeeded several times in finding an as-yet-underexplored niche to unpack. In <i>Love, Sex, Gender, and Superheroes</i>, Brown delves into, in his words, “a range of issues about gender and sex that are modeled by superheroes, issues that are interconnected, shifting, progressive, conservative, and complex” (3). This clarity of objective characterizes his work in general, which is scholarly and incisive yet accessible to more than just an academic audience. His writing is ideal for teaching undergrads, asking them to think critically about the heroes who are often “assumed to be simple and innocent fun, not worthy of critical examination or reflection” (3). (At this point in the academic study of popular culture, surely we all know better, but it does bear repeating.)</p><p>This book, which has multiple full-color illustrations per chapter, is in many ways a continuation and expansion of his previous book, <i>Panthers, Hulks, and Ironhearts: Marvel, Diversity, and the 21st Century Superhero</i>, which addresses Marvel's history of racial and ethnic representation. Like that book, this one is well-researched, with a strong foundation of important cultural theorists (Laura Mulvey, Linda Williams, Henry Jenkins) and an evident understanding of recent work in the field. Williams gets the most shout-outs here; one of the most compelling arguments in the book draws a parallel between the superhero genre and the bodily genres Williams discusses in her work. To this end, the first chapter discusses the way in which the superhero body functions as an image of phallic power; by looking at an understudied body of work—superhero porn parodies, as well as the relationship between the comics and porn industries—Brown convincingly argues that the genre addresses social insecurity regarding hegemonic masculinity.</p><p>The following chapters address a wider spectrum of topics on gender and sexuality—Chapter Three compares superhero homosocial spaces to the real-life masculine ideal of the bachelor pad, while Chapter Four discusses the traditional mismatch of superheroes and domestic life. Here, as in other chapters, the examination of the genre's problematic past lays the groundwork for analysis of more recent narratives that suggest a progressive shift. This is true in most chapters (there are nine, in addition to the introduction and conclusion), and contributes to the positive tone of the book, which suggests that, mostly, the genre is responding to social change. Relatedly, Brown makes an interesting point in Chapter Seven about the ways in which allegory (which the genre has used as an excuse for many years—multiple readings are possible, but the difference is not real-world literal) becomes an obstacle to representation. This is one of the most powerful ideas in the book, especially for the purpose of teaching—that for so long, popular culture has relied upon allegory and metaphor, to the detriment of more explicit representations of identity.</p><p>This is closely related to Brown's overriding contention that one has only to scratch the surface of symbolism in the whole genre to find an obsession with sexuality and gender. Tropes of masks, disguises, and dual identities play into this, of course, and Brown discusses these in detail. In terms of method, the book relies heavily on identifying and analyzing visual and narrative tropes, but many of the elements he identifies have not been studied elsewhere in depth. For example, in Chapter Nine, the close textual analysis of visual codes in comics for orgasm, explosion, ejaculation, and death allows Brown to argue that “the superhero's little death facilitates a repeatable heroic sequence of creation, training, and victory” (206). Similarly, Chapter Five identifies visual codes for heterosexual romantic rituals and the ways in which the genre has adapted these codes for queer relationship narratives as well.</p><p>Of course, some of these main points are self-evident, like the assertion that the genre has traditionally denied its heroes the domestic comforts of marriage and children. But again, one of the most interesting takeaways from the book is the extent to which the industry is largely addressing the issues that Brown identifies. He concludes by discussing the ways fans mobilize superheroes in their expression and understanding of gender and sexuality. As the parent of a 6-year-old girl who wore her Spider-Gwen outfit (complete with tutu) to the premiere of <i>Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse</i>, I felt the final chapter's discussion of cosplay rang true; our experience of superheroes as a dominant lingua franca in current popular culture often obscures the real social work these narratives do in understanding and performing identity.</p>","PeriodicalId":44809,"journal":{"name":"JOURNAL OF AMERICAN CULTURE","volume":null,"pages":null},"PeriodicalIF":0.1000,"publicationDate":"2023-09-24","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":"0","resultStr":"{\"title\":\"Love, sex, gender and superheroesBy Jeffrey A. Brown, Rutgers University Press, 2022.\",\"authors\":\"Cary Elza\",\"doi\":\"10.1111/jacc.13486\",\"DOIUrl\":null,\"url\":null,\"abstract\":\"<p>While scholarship on superheroes is prolific, Jeffrey A. Brown has succeeded several times in finding an as-yet-underexplored niche to unpack. In <i>Love, Sex, Gender, and Superheroes</i>, Brown delves into, in his words, “a range of issues about gender and sex that are modeled by superheroes, issues that are interconnected, shifting, progressive, conservative, and complex” (3). This clarity of objective characterizes his work in general, which is scholarly and incisive yet accessible to more than just an academic audience. His writing is ideal for teaching undergrads, asking them to think critically about the heroes who are often “assumed to be simple and innocent fun, not worthy of critical examination or reflection” (3). (At this point in the academic study of popular culture, surely we all know better, but it does bear repeating.)</p><p>This book, which has multiple full-color illustrations per chapter, is in many ways a continuation and expansion of his previous book, <i>Panthers, Hulks, and Ironhearts: Marvel, Diversity, and the 21st Century Superhero</i>, which addresses Marvel's history of racial and ethnic representation. Like that book, this one is well-researched, with a strong foundation of important cultural theorists (Laura Mulvey, Linda Williams, Henry Jenkins) and an evident understanding of recent work in the field. Williams gets the most shout-outs here; one of the most compelling arguments in the book draws a parallel between the superhero genre and the bodily genres Williams discusses in her work. To this end, the first chapter discusses the way in which the superhero body functions as an image of phallic power; by looking at an understudied body of work—superhero porn parodies, as well as the relationship between the comics and porn industries—Brown convincingly argues that the genre addresses social insecurity regarding hegemonic masculinity.</p><p>The following chapters address a wider spectrum of topics on gender and sexuality—Chapter Three compares superhero homosocial spaces to the real-life masculine ideal of the bachelor pad, while Chapter Four discusses the traditional mismatch of superheroes and domestic life. Here, as in other chapters, the examination of the genre's problematic past lays the groundwork for analysis of more recent narratives that suggest a progressive shift. This is true in most chapters (there are nine, in addition to the introduction and conclusion), and contributes to the positive tone of the book, which suggests that, mostly, the genre is responding to social change. Relatedly, Brown makes an interesting point in Chapter Seven about the ways in which allegory (which the genre has used as an excuse for many years—multiple readings are possible, but the difference is not real-world literal) becomes an obstacle to representation. This is one of the most powerful ideas in the book, especially for the purpose of teaching—that for so long, popular culture has relied upon allegory and metaphor, to the detriment of more explicit representations of identity.</p><p>This is closely related to Brown's overriding contention that one has only to scratch the surface of symbolism in the whole genre to find an obsession with sexuality and gender. Tropes of masks, disguises, and dual identities play into this, of course, and Brown discusses these in detail. In terms of method, the book relies heavily on identifying and analyzing visual and narrative tropes, but many of the elements he identifies have not been studied elsewhere in depth. For example, in Chapter Nine, the close textual analysis of visual codes in comics for orgasm, explosion, ejaculation, and death allows Brown to argue that “the superhero's little death facilitates a repeatable heroic sequence of creation, training, and victory” (206). Similarly, Chapter Five identifies visual codes for heterosexual romantic rituals and the ways in which the genre has adapted these codes for queer relationship narratives as well.</p><p>Of course, some of these main points are self-evident, like the assertion that the genre has traditionally denied its heroes the domestic comforts of marriage and children. But again, one of the most interesting takeaways from the book is the extent to which the industry is largely addressing the issues that Brown identifies. He concludes by discussing the ways fans mobilize superheroes in their expression and understanding of gender and sexuality. As the parent of a 6-year-old girl who wore her Spider-Gwen outfit (complete with tutu) to the premiere of <i>Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse</i>, I felt the final chapter's discussion of cosplay rang true; our experience of superheroes as a dominant lingua franca in current popular culture often obscures the real social work these narratives do in understanding and performing identity.</p>\",\"PeriodicalId\":44809,\"journal\":{\"name\":\"JOURNAL OF AMERICAN CULTURE\",\"volume\":null,\"pages\":null},\"PeriodicalIF\":0.1000,\"publicationDate\":\"2023-09-24\",\"publicationTypes\":\"Journal Article\",\"fieldsOfStudy\":null,\"isOpenAccess\":false,\"openAccessPdf\":\"\",\"citationCount\":\"0\",\"resultStr\":null,\"platform\":\"Semanticscholar\",\"paperid\":null,\"PeriodicalName\":\"JOURNAL OF AMERICAN CULTURE\",\"FirstCategoryId\":\"1085\",\"ListUrlMain\":\"https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1111/jacc.13486\",\"RegionNum\":0,\"RegionCategory\":null,\"ArticlePicture\":[],\"TitleCN\":null,\"AbstractTextCN\":null,\"PMCID\":null,\"EPubDate\":\"\",\"PubModel\":\"\",\"JCR\":\"0\",\"JCRName\":\"HUMANITIES, MULTIDISCIPLINARY\",\"Score\":null,\"Total\":0}","platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":null,"PeriodicalName":"JOURNAL OF AMERICAN CULTURE","FirstCategoryId":"1085","ListUrlMain":"https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1111/jacc.13486","RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":null,"ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":null,"EPubDate":"","PubModel":"","JCR":"0","JCRName":"HUMANITIES, MULTIDISCIPLINARY","Score":null,"Total":0}
Love, sex, gender and superheroesBy Jeffrey A. Brown, Rutgers University Press, 2022.
While scholarship on superheroes is prolific, Jeffrey A. Brown has succeeded several times in finding an as-yet-underexplored niche to unpack. In Love, Sex, Gender, and Superheroes, Brown delves into, in his words, “a range of issues about gender and sex that are modeled by superheroes, issues that are interconnected, shifting, progressive, conservative, and complex” (3). This clarity of objective characterizes his work in general, which is scholarly and incisive yet accessible to more than just an academic audience. His writing is ideal for teaching undergrads, asking them to think critically about the heroes who are often “assumed to be simple and innocent fun, not worthy of critical examination or reflection” (3). (At this point in the academic study of popular culture, surely we all know better, but it does bear repeating.)
This book, which has multiple full-color illustrations per chapter, is in many ways a continuation and expansion of his previous book, Panthers, Hulks, and Ironhearts: Marvel, Diversity, and the 21st Century Superhero, which addresses Marvel's history of racial and ethnic representation. Like that book, this one is well-researched, with a strong foundation of important cultural theorists (Laura Mulvey, Linda Williams, Henry Jenkins) and an evident understanding of recent work in the field. Williams gets the most shout-outs here; one of the most compelling arguments in the book draws a parallel between the superhero genre and the bodily genres Williams discusses in her work. To this end, the first chapter discusses the way in which the superhero body functions as an image of phallic power; by looking at an understudied body of work—superhero porn parodies, as well as the relationship between the comics and porn industries—Brown convincingly argues that the genre addresses social insecurity regarding hegemonic masculinity.
The following chapters address a wider spectrum of topics on gender and sexuality—Chapter Three compares superhero homosocial spaces to the real-life masculine ideal of the bachelor pad, while Chapter Four discusses the traditional mismatch of superheroes and domestic life. Here, as in other chapters, the examination of the genre's problematic past lays the groundwork for analysis of more recent narratives that suggest a progressive shift. This is true in most chapters (there are nine, in addition to the introduction and conclusion), and contributes to the positive tone of the book, which suggests that, mostly, the genre is responding to social change. Relatedly, Brown makes an interesting point in Chapter Seven about the ways in which allegory (which the genre has used as an excuse for many years—multiple readings are possible, but the difference is not real-world literal) becomes an obstacle to representation. This is one of the most powerful ideas in the book, especially for the purpose of teaching—that for so long, popular culture has relied upon allegory and metaphor, to the detriment of more explicit representations of identity.
This is closely related to Brown's overriding contention that one has only to scratch the surface of symbolism in the whole genre to find an obsession with sexuality and gender. Tropes of masks, disguises, and dual identities play into this, of course, and Brown discusses these in detail. In terms of method, the book relies heavily on identifying and analyzing visual and narrative tropes, but many of the elements he identifies have not been studied elsewhere in depth. For example, in Chapter Nine, the close textual analysis of visual codes in comics for orgasm, explosion, ejaculation, and death allows Brown to argue that “the superhero's little death facilitates a repeatable heroic sequence of creation, training, and victory” (206). Similarly, Chapter Five identifies visual codes for heterosexual romantic rituals and the ways in which the genre has adapted these codes for queer relationship narratives as well.
Of course, some of these main points are self-evident, like the assertion that the genre has traditionally denied its heroes the domestic comforts of marriage and children. But again, one of the most interesting takeaways from the book is the extent to which the industry is largely addressing the issues that Brown identifies. He concludes by discussing the ways fans mobilize superheroes in their expression and understanding of gender and sexuality. As the parent of a 6-year-old girl who wore her Spider-Gwen outfit (complete with tutu) to the premiere of Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse, I felt the final chapter's discussion of cosplay rang true; our experience of superheroes as a dominant lingua franca in current popular culture often obscures the real social work these narratives do in understanding and performing identity.