Superman: Escape from Bizarro World left me wondering what Bizarro world my brain was in that I dropped $24.99 on a hardcover that (after reading it) I would have been better served hurling through a window--or better yet, at the creator’s heads. Penned by Geoff Johns and schlock has-been Richard Donner, the pair cash in on the resurgence of the Man of Steel (after all that “Death Of Superman” nonsense that killed the comics industry in the early ‘90s), and they sucker unsuspecting morons like me into spending almost thirty dollars (with sales tax) on reprehensible garbage.

Shame on you, DC. Shame.

While the story wasn’t horrendous, this volume represents everything that’s negative and sensationalistic about the industry. They can’t all be winners, right? That’s true, but they shouldn’t be gussied up scams that bilk you out of $25 either.

Why am I so angry? Because half of this handsome hardcover piece of pigeon liner consists of a pretty good story, and the other half re-prints “Classic Bizarro” stories from 1960, 1984, and 1986. If I wanted to read antiquated kitsch, I would have bought it in the 50,000 other Superman compilations out there. Buying this book is like letting a pretty woman walk you to your door after a date only to get punched in the head and wake up an hour later without your wallet. It’s a cheat.

The cherry on top of this mound of dung is the praise-heaping, ass-kissing grandiosity of Brian K. Vaughn (who’s all aboard on a gravy train with his script-writing skills for Lost). Vaughn’s star has been steadily sinking since his two creator-owned franchises started losing steam (Y: The Last Man and Ex Machina), so I suppose this intro is just a pleasant little bonus on top of his network money. Something to pay for the new roof on the guest house near the pool.

After researching Vaughn extensively, I was offended and insulted that he responded to my calculated questions with stock answers that he’d repeated ad nauseum in many, many previous interviews. It should come as no surprise then that his intro is short, contrived and has the consistency of cotton candy. Fluffy.

Eric Powell (the artist to this monstrosity) is the only party involved who’s making it out of this review unscathed. His art depicts the comical, surreal quality of the Bizarro World spot on.

I’m a sucker for a pretty cover and a coffee-table edition. Shame on me.

I would have been much less disappointed if they reprinted this storyline in a cheaper, trade paperback edition without the hacky stories from yesteryear. Some people enjoy that pap, but I’m one of the ones that don’t. I like to know what I’m getting into, and to spend that much money and get regurgitated nonsense is an affront to humanity.

Don’t buy this book. Don’t even look at it. It’s a mistake. An abomination--like Bizarro, only with less depth and humor. DC comics, you let me down on this one.

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