This started out as a relatively benign survey of golden and silver age comic lore and then just flipped off the rails when Morrison decided he would tell us about each and every acid trip he ever took and how he was so grateful for every grubby royalty dollar he earned from comic book nerds to fuel his drug habit. I've read much better analysis of comic heroes and really, is it all that complicated? They're a reflection of what we want most for ourselves. Who wouldn't want to fly? Have nifty gadgets? Sock it to the bad guys. Walk through walls. Have a skeleton made out of adamantium... Okay maybe the analogy only goes so far. Annoyed I spent the better part of a week reading this.

I've been less enamored with the comic for a while, not to mention the awful TV adaption. Things are getting better in this volume.

I wish I could hate this book to death.

This is one of those books where I felt like I owed it to the book to finish, which is usually not a good feeling. I'm not sure what my hang up was, the premise was very intriguing. Post-apocalyptic future where crop disease (and human disease) has given food suppliers an enormous amount of control over the fate of nations. Alternating narrators eventually cross paths.

I just wasn't very invested in the characters, the story seemed sort of clinically cold and a bit meandering, That being said, I really do appreciate that this was not set in the United States featuring a rag tag group of survivors who live off the land in the wake of an EMP. Or zombies. Or a nuke.

Nice twist on this genre and really neat to read a book that takes place in Thailand.

Really engrossing. Quite funny in places. Recommended.