Tim Sheridan’s Alan Scott: The Green Lantern is an excellent comic book. In addition to being a fine reimagining of Alan’s origins, with the acknowledgment of Alan as a closeted gay man in the 1930s and 1940s, it is also impeccably written, with cliffhangers at the end of most chapters that left me wanting more. But that continues through to the end, and Alan Scott (and Alan Scott) feels vaguely unfinished, or rather that Sheridan’s got material for a sequel that I wonder if we’ll ever see, given that JSA continues but not the exact Geoff Johns “Golden Age” vision that Alan Scott spins off from.

Too there are places that Sheridan zigs where I might have preferred he zagged, small controversies here and there. It’s sometimes messy, is what I’m trying to say, and I felt myself wanting less mess if only so that one of the better in DC’s small library of queer biographies had queer love less tainted by lies and betrayal. But I’ve no such aversion to Catwoman kissing Batman and then scratching him with her claws, and it speaks all the better for Alan Scott that Sheridan tells this tale complications and all.