My boy Batman

Choosing a name for our son proved very difficult for my girlfriend and I. We had many gorgeous, exotic and exciting options for a girl, but all the boys' names in the many books we bought or borrowed left us uninspired. There was one other name that I had been thinking about since the beginning. It started out as a funny idea but gained momentum as the birth grew nearer, until I was finally adamant that it would be perfect for my firstborn. Just about all of my friends and all of my friends’ children agreed that it was an incredibly cool middle name, though it took a while to convince my girlfriend. I did my best to explain that it wasn’t a novelty or a joke, that it truly meant something to me, that it was a name that still stirred the deepest passion in me almost to the point of obsession, a word that inspires and excites and ignites the imagination. She eventually agreed, but only on the condition that someday I explain to him why it means so much to me. And so, as we celebrate our son’s first birthday, here’s why his middle name is Batman.

Like most Bat-fans born post-Sixties, I was introduced to the character via endless repeats of the TV show with Adam West as the titular hero and that wonderful theme tune. This bright and fun show was the perfect children’s introduction to Batman and his world of cool cars and colourful foes, and I watched every episode I was allowed to. The cartoon would have been next, probably on Saturday mornings in the Seventies, and then when I was old enough to understand them I became a regular reader of the comics. The printed Batman of the 1970s was a much darker and moodier character than the one I was used to, mainly owing to the revamp by writer Denny O’Neil and artist Neal Adams. Gotham’s guardian now found himself in macabre, eerie tales and his arch-nemesis, the Joker, was redefined as the psychopathic murderer you hate to love. A few new, now classic, enemies were introduced too, most notably the immortal Ra’s Al Ghul, an international terrorist who discovers Batman’s secret identity and wants the ‘world’s greatest detective’ for a son-in-law. This new, brooding Batman was just what a six-year-old boy wanted, and I followed his adventures with zeal.

The moment I truly fell for him, though, came in 1983 when I was ten years old. I’ve never forgotten the cover to Batman #360. It had our hero flanked by three sinister dancing skeletons. Batman himself looked terrified, and in the corner was a horror-movie font which read, "SOMEWHERE IN THE SHADOWS STALKS… THE SAVAGE SKULL!" The story inside – now largely forgotten – concerned a horribly disfigured police officer, injured in the call of duty and fired from the force because his hideously burned face was considered too grisly to be seen by the general public. So he becomes the Savage Skull, his terrifying features framed by a red hood as he prowled the city at night, exacting revenge on his former workmates and killing beat cops with a lone blade. Can he be stopped before he reaches his final target, Batman’s friend and ally, Police Commissioner Gordon? I was terrified. And obsessed.

Not long after, there was something of a renaissance in comics, as new writers and artists began to re-imagine decades-old super-heroes for the modern world around them, a world of recession, Reaganomics, yuppies, drug addiction and Cold War. In this environment, Frank Miller was commissioned to rewrite Batman’s origin for the modern age. Batman: Year One portrayed Gotham City as the grimy, wholly corrupt vice haven that it should be, with apparently only two good men to help it: James Gordon, a young, idealist policeman desperately trying to work his way up the ranks and just transferred from Chicago; and Bruce Wayne, a man who has dedicated his life to eradicating the criminal element from his city, the same element responsible for the death of his parents, whose brutal murder he witnessed as a child.

And this origin – originally conceived by Bob Kane and Bill Finger in 1939 – is the reason I love Batman. Unlike other comic book heroes, he wasn’t bitten by a radioactive spider or sent from a dying planet to discover he had superhuman abilities; he isn’t blessed with a powerful gift that has to be used responsibly. Batman has seen the worst the world has to offer and lived through a deeply traumatic childhood to transform his pain into power; he studies criminology and becomes a master detective while honing his body and mind into the ultimate fighting machine. Batman doesn’t fall into a heroic lifestyle accidentally, he chooses it, he wants it and he needs it – he becomes a vigilante, vowing to protect Gotham’s citizens from the same kind of horror he experienced in his youth. He’s a pure, selfless hero. It’s probably not the best way to deal with bereavement, but the feeling that he’s slightly mental only adds to the allure and however psychologically damaged he may be, he’s just a man who wants to make the world a better place. And I still find that inspiring now, at the age of 36.

Obviously, I’m not alone. He celebrates his seventieth birthday this year, and Batman is currently more popular than ever. In fact, Christopher Nolan’s excellent movie, The Dark Knight, is now officially the second biggest film of all time. But this is also a great time to be a fan of the character in his original medium too, as eight Batman-related comics are launched this summer. They don’t feature Bruce Wayne, however – he’s trapped somewhere in time, believe it or not. There’s a new Batman now, Dick Grayson – formerly Batman’s original partner, Robin – has taken over the cape and cowl, while Batman’s long-lost biological son, Damian, has taken on the Robin role. This new dynamic duo debuted this month in Batman And Robin #1, written and drawn by Grant Morrison and Frank Quitely, who are widely considered to be the greatest creative team in mainstream comics, and very probably are. It’s been an immediate hit and almost universally praised – even I, being a hardcore Bruce Wayne fan, loved every page of it and can’t wait for the next instalment. The brooding Bruce will return, of course – nothing is permanent in comics – but in the meantime, Batman has been reinvigorated with a new sense of fun and wonder, including a team of circus freaks, a neon-bright Gotham City and a flying Batmobile.

So there you go, my love. If the above fails to explain my passion for Batman, then I hope it at least effectively illustrates it. Not that it really matters, mind you, because I have every confidence that when our son is old enough to understand, he’ll happily tell you why he thinks his name is so cool whenever he gets the chance.