Books like Superman Smashes the Klan — picked by fans

Growing up as a first-generation Korean American my heart ached with love to read this book. It truly celebrates Korean culture and its ties to family. Kim portrays our young protagonist Yoomi, a black and white cat experiencing something everyone has gone through—a bad day while highlighting some of the warmth and joyful things about Korean culture, my favorite topic being food. The end cap of the book features a recipe for kimbap. I love that she does this because growing up my mother would pack me kimbap for lunch and kids would immediately peg it as sushi. Little me would have felt so seen and loved by this book and I’m so happy it exists today.

This book was extremely poignant. It may not be intended for the youngest of readers. I admit, I read it on my own. But the message was deep. Children from preschool to teenage can have strong feelings about their parents’ behaviors. But what young children don’t often (can’t often) understand is where, in their parents’ history, those behaviors are born out of.

This story takes something as simple as foraging for watercress on the side of the road and examines where, in the narrator’s parents’ history, that behavior comes from. It’s sorrowful, haunting, and hopeful all at the same time. This is a beautiful book to address the “big feelings” of embarrassment kids may feel about their parents without understanding the reasoning behind their patent’s actions.

Even though I’m not a Chinese immigrant, I found this book to be so relatable. It’s all about navigating the adolescent need to fit in while also being true to yourself.

The innovative story structure follows three different threads that eventually come together unexpectedly. The combination of a realistic school-kid, a legendary Monkey King, and a sit-com stereotype antagonist is so creative.

Cicada is one of those quietly brilliant stories that says so much but can also be left to the interpretation of the reader. For me it immediately and intensely made me think of the (Asian) immigrant experience and the racism and classism that come with that. The gorgeous illustrations alone are a reason to pick it up but the story will keep you coming back to it.

I’m a huge fan of the rivalry between Superman and Lex Luthor, so I was excited to check out this new story set during their middle school years–possibly the most dramatic time in a kid’s life.

This Clark is a little spicy, which I enjoyed. I like that he doesn’t always make good choices. In Lex, he finds a brainy outsider searching for a confidant. Brendan Reichs gives us a friendship between boys that feels honest, and Jerry Gaylord’s delightfully expressive art captures their emotions nicely.

There were laughs but also a simmering tension that kept my attention, especially as it related to a little lie that became a big problem. This story is a nice reminder that heroes and villains aren’t born; they’re made.

Deadpool is superhero comics', and perhaps literature in general’s, most consistently challenging fictional engagement with cancer. Deadpool’s healing factor prevents his cancer from ever being cured, which traps him in a never-ending cycle of remission and relapse.

Unlike a superhero who responds to a bodily transformation by self-sacrificingly upholding the status quo, Deadpool is a mercenary and anti-hero. In this collection, writer Joe Kelly creates much of the narrative infrastructure that eventually made the character one of Marvel’s most popular.

Kelly also crafts a story where Deadpool is offered a heroic transformation that—through personal weakness, history, bad luck, and supervillainous interference—tragically fails. This book establishes the template for Deadpool stories and digs into Deadpool’s cancer for the first time.

I loved Stanley’s self-aware and endearingly dry sense of humor as he grapples with anxiety as well as his comic-book obsession, which becomes contagious throughout the book. I loved following his journey from a middle-school kid who passes out during a school safety presentation to one who discovers his inner courage thanks to his love of comics—and some mindfulness breathing techniques woven throughout, as well.

It was refreshing to read a book featuring a boy struggling with anxiety, and I loved rooting for him as he went on a comic trivia scavenger hunt, to Comic Con, and even as he muddled his way through family and friendship hardships. I was truly sad when the story ended; along the way, he became a hero in his own right!

This is the book that forever changed how superheroes were written.  

In Watchmen, masked vigilantes started as a craze in the 1930s, and history got slightly bent in the process. We won the Vietnam War, Nixon stayed president, and...you'll have fun picking out all the bits of altered history in the background.

The heart of the book is its unforgettable characters - slightly over-the-hill superheroes brought out of retirement by the murder of one of their own, to face an ever-deepening mystery and their own midlife crises.

Jonathan isn’t your typical tortured hero, as much of his brokenness is self-inflicted. But that doesn’t make his journey to redemption any less painful or heart-twisty. We follow his progress in real-time while simultaneously discovering everything he did to fall from grace in the first place. You equally love him and hate him in the most soul-crushing way. And if that little bit of catnip didn’t sway you, give five-year-old Maddie a chance.

Superheroes and zombies seem like a terrible combination, but Peter Clines makes a fascinating story of zombies destroying the Earth but for a collection of superhero guarded survivors.

It's a bit like The Walking Dead combined with the Justice League, though the power level of the people involved is closer to Marvel's street level. The first book has some crass jokes that get dropped from the sequels but not enough that I didn't enjoy it. I have to say my favorite characters are Saint George (a Superman analog) and Stealth (a female Batman).