Fundamental Reading Ep. 2: Again Amongst the Mad People in Morrison & McKean's Arkham Asylum

 “But I don’t want to go among mad people," Alice remarked. "Oh, you can’t help that," said the Cat: "We’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad." "How do you know I’m mad?" said Alice. "You must be," said the Cat," or you wouldn’t have come here.

Call me crazy, but I've always preferred being among the mad people, they're just so much more interesting. Ever since my dad surprised me with a copy of "The Greatest Joker Stories Ever Told" collection when I was about nine, I've been nuts for Mr. J. Sure, he's a homicidal maniac, but how can you be mad at a guy who's trying out material on you while he's got a gun pressed to your forehead? I don't know if I necessarily understood what's not shown on the pages of "The Killing Joke" when I got my hands on it not long after it came out, but even a kid could tell that when you're able to literally get a laugh out of Batman, you make a guy like Dave Chapelle look like a lounge act.

So, the same year Nicholson was running around to a soundtrack produced by Prince, while showing up Mr. Mom in every scene they shared--it's a great movie, and at the time, it was all I cared about--I found myself holding Grant Morrison's "Arkham Asylum." Keep in mind this was 1989, comic shop employees didn't tell one's parent or legal guardian that the comic they were purchasing was a nightmare printed on the better-quality paper--I've since come to consider it my favorite graphic novel and one of my favorite pieces of literature from my first readthrough.

You know you're not dealing with your typical comic when you have to strain your eyes to read text that looks like it was scratched and carved into the page with a rusty scalpel. To make things a little more complicated, each character's dialogue is lettered differently, which gaves all the players a unique "voice."

Not unlike the Arkham Asylum videogame which bears only a few similarities, the concept of Batman entering 'A Serious House on Serious Earth,' sounds simple enough. The commissioner tells him that there are hostages in need of saving and that the inmates are literally running the asylum. Is a there a S.W.A.T team? Some snipers across street? Maybe a negotiator? Nope. Gordon's probably off-page doubled over laughing with his cop buddies: "You believe he's going in there by again--by himself?"

Okay, probably not. But as our hero steps inside, you can pretty much see that Batman's really not in the mood for any of this today. One could (and probably should) write a grad school thesis on the layers of symbolism, psychology, politics, literature, and basket of spoiled Easter eggs woven in here. This thing is deep, and over 25 years later, I'm still not sure I completely get it.

Dave McKean's art has a watercolor-that-hasn't-dried-yet look, and in some spots it seems as if he painted with the water he used to wash his brush off with. The effect is jarring at first, but gives the book a feel unlike any other that's been created since. Back to the story, a trench coat-clad Joker (who sporting a stylish pair of pumps, because he was clearly a fan of those girls from the Robert Palmer music videos) basically trolls Batman who's been reduced to having to walk through Arkham's hallways in a game of hide-and-seek.

While hiding and/or seeking, he encounters members of his rogue's gallery presented more realistically as people who've been institutionalized because there's something seriously wrong with them, not because they had a couple of bad punchlines. It's Batman wondering if perhaps he's just as crazy as the crazies he's helped put in the crazy house. The Joker isn't ha-ha funny here, but he's definitely demented, as his voice is series of stream-of-consciousness non-sequiturs: "Paint filthy words on the foreheads of children."

Ultimately the story swirls down a rabbit hole designed to make the reader feel as is if perhaps they may need to check themselves into somewhere for a few days. The Dark Knight is at his darkest when pushed by his old foe to the point of losing his patience and any sense of empathy he may have had before this clear violation of the rules of visitor's day. Upon bumping into a sickly Clayface, who in this incarnation is either an AIDS or cancer patient with a flesh-eating disease, he breaks cripple's leg like he's stomping on a vase. It's Batman the bully, everyone. In hindsight Clayface might have just been like Play-Doh that wasn't put away properly and he just started drying up. You still could have just pushed him aside, Bruce.

Moving on, when it looks like Bats might be wheeling Doctor Destiny (Morrison having a laugh at an obscure villain's expense) outside for a cigarette, he abruptly throws him and his wheelchair down a flight of stairs without so much as taking a peek to see if he's okay. You find yourself laughing a bit because it's all about Batman going bat-shit crazy. It had to happen eventually, right?

And that's really what happens here. Mentally and physically exhausted by the events of the unplanned pop-in that he never received a formal invitation for, nor RSVP'd to, Batman ultimately leaves it up to his most indecisive of foes to decide his fate: He either walks out the front, or the Joker kills him. Obviously the Joker doesn't kill him; they complete each other, remember? But Mr. J does offer him a standing invitation to return to Arkham, should life on the outside become too crazy. If the Joker's hosting, I'm there, and have made many happy returns. In fact, I think I'm due for another visit any day now.