Good superhero novels are rare.

That’s due, I think, in large part to the expectations those of us who enjoy the subgenre have built regarding its inhabitants from its primary sources: comics and movies. Spandex, leather, well-nigh-unto godlike powers, high morals (even if the character likes to pretend otherwise)… these are the hallmarks we’ve come to know so well. And sure, some characters skew dark, but in the end, they’ll protect us from evil because that’s their mission. Their purpose. It’s literally what they were made for.

Comics have so many components; they can play on tropes and still hold interest. The story matters, but so does the art, lettering, panel arrangement, length of the arc, and tie-ins. Even the choice of which writer is telling which part of a particular story is important.

Before everyone piles on, I’m not saying that comics writers are any less skilled or any less important to the creative process than those who choose or are drawn to long form. What I’m saying is that writing comics is different and that reader expectations are different. Superhero novels can’t be built on the same bones as superhero comics because they’re a different medium altogether, yet many writers try to do exactly that – which is why a good number of superhero novels fail.

Mike Chen, however, builds a new framework for We Could Be Heroes (Mira Books), which is one of many reasons why it’s a really good superhero novel.

A quick plot summary: The Mind Robber is San Delgado’s master(ish) thief; he’s orchestrated numerous bank heists and left no trace, and no memory, of his presence until one fateful night when the Throwing Star, the city’s super-strong, super-fast “flying” vigilante catches up to him. The Mind Robber escapes when Zoe and Jamie run into each other at a memory support group the next day. There are simply too many coincidences to ignore, especially after each of them uses abilities strikingly similar to those of the hero and the villain to help their fellow group attendees escape when the building catches fire.

Realizing they have more in common than extraordinary abilities, Jamie and Zoe strike a deal and begin working together to uncover the mystery of what they believe to be a collective past. As dangerous secrets begin to reveal themselves, the duo must decide whether it’s worth their lives to be heroes.

I think the thing that turns me off from a lot of superhero novels is the authorial attempt to make said heroes into paragons (which is also the reason I don’t read a ton of superhero comics these days). Does humanity need examples of the best of us to look up to? Sure. Of course we do.

If the last four years have shown us anything, it’s that the majority of us are assholes who have no idea how to behave without the constraints of polite society holing us back. But paragons… paragons aren’t what we need right now.

This was a realization that struck me while watching the Wonder Woman 84 trailer and finding that it fell completely flat. I mean, it’s Wonder Woman. I loved the first film, despite the bumps and growing pains. And also, have I mentioned, it’s freaking Wonder Woman!

And yet, all I could muster was a resounding “meh.”

Listen, none of us was perfect before this whole isolation thing. Far from it. But it at least felt like an attribute we could strive for. Now? Stuck in our houses, breathing one another’s air, actually contemplating yeeting our kids into the nearest volcano (because no matter how much you love them, there’s only so much you can hear about Minecraft before you completely lose your shit)?

We are all, as the kids say, in survival mode. Fuck perfect, we just want to make it through the day. Paragon? Never heard of her. It’s a good day if I don’t harpy shriek. It isn’t that Wonder Woman makes me feel worse about myself than I would otherwise; I legit don’t give a shit.

Mike Chen doesn’t try to force feed us paragons. He gives us, in fact, two very normal people thrust into an extraordinary situation very much against their wills, trusting guts they aren’t sure are actually theirs. Their only goals are to maybe shove the scales a bit toward the positive and to make it out the other side alive.

Zoe and Jamie aren’t like Superman swooping into Smallville to shift bales of hay when he has a couple hours off or using his super hearing to catch a scoop on his way to the phone booth (or wherever he changes these days). They aren’t like the Flash running fast enough to turn back time, and neither of them has a boxing glove arrow at hand.

Jamie has anxiety disorder, and Zoe is an alcoholic. Both of them have tried to seek help for their mental illnesses, which is one of the most difficult things in the world, and they had those requests weaponized. And still, both of them have tried to turn the echoes of their trauma into something good (well, ultimately anyway).

Which… as much as we all mock Batman…

If we were going to have real-life superheroes, what would motivate them to throw their bodies into the line of fire? To willingly face danger and ignore their animal brains in favor of other people’s lives? Either a desire to end their own lives or very unresolved trauma, like that found in the deepest parts of Zoe and Jamie’s brains – even if they don’t remember.

I don’t want you to get the idea that We Could Be Heroes is a dark book. It probably sounds like it should be, but it is, in fact, extremely hopeful. It reminds us that there are people in the world who are inherently good. That even those who are most driven by wrong means can still be swayed by right ends. That mistakes can be forgiven and that we don’t need to be paragons or even want to be paragons to be decent people.

We can make the world better one person at a time. And that’s pretty superheroic.

We Could Be Heroes by Mike Chen (Mira Books) is scheduled for publication January 26, 2021.