Scan barcode
A review by thirty37seven
Batman: Turning Points by Greg Rucka
3.0
... Grief is driving him... it's stolen his reason... life robbed him of his family... he's lashing out... the irony hasn't escaped me...
Two months ago a monster took the legs of Jim Gordon's daughter, and tried to take his sanity with them... All to prove a point... That the only proper response to the chaos and cruelty around us was to go crazy. To cross the line. But, of course, Jim Gordon is still here, doing his job... persevering. And even in those hellish hours he clung to his principles... It awed me that there was no bloodlust in him.
"I want him brought in... and I want him brought in by the book! We have to show him that our way works!"
His words overpowered my own anger, and echoed inside as I did as he asked. But once that night was over, there were other words that echoed...
"You had a bad day, and it drove you as crazy as everybody else... Only you won't admit it! You have to keep pretending that life makes sense..."
Some of them even my own...
"Maybe ordinary people don't always crack... maybe it was just you, all the time..."
We're we both right? Do my words reflect back on me? The events of the past year have shown me that if nothing else, the world does not make sense. But haven't I known that all along? And if so, why do I consider Jim Gordon to be the better man? Better than both me and the Joker, because he perseveres? What is it that I do, exactly, if not that?
"You're a good friend, Jim... I'm sorry... about your daughter."
"Yeah, I'm sorry, too... about your son..."
"He wasn't my son... not really."
"The hell he wasn't..."
"The bat's a time bomb. I mean, his eyes... Like there was nothing there. Not hate. Nothing. He doesn't care who lives or dies. Not even himself."
"It never stops, does it? It's like our lives are marked by tragedies."
"It's the price of the war, Jim."
"It's too high a price. We mark our lives by tragedy, you and I, nothing else. Divorce. Death. Mutilation. Maiming. More death. Both of us."
"Yes."
"I feel old... old like the stars."
Two months ago a monster took the legs of Jim Gordon's daughter, and tried to take his sanity with them... All to prove a point... That the only proper response to the chaos and cruelty around us was to go crazy. To cross the line. But, of course, Jim Gordon is still here, doing his job... persevering. And even in those hellish hours he clung to his principles... It awed me that there was no bloodlust in him.
"I want him brought in... and I want him brought in by the book! We have to show him that our way works!"
His words overpowered my own anger, and echoed inside as I did as he asked. But once that night was over, there were other words that echoed...
"You had a bad day, and it drove you as crazy as everybody else... Only you won't admit it! You have to keep pretending that life makes sense..."
Some of them even my own...
"Maybe ordinary people don't always crack... maybe it was just you, all the time..."
We're we both right? Do my words reflect back on me? The events of the past year have shown me that if nothing else, the world does not make sense. But haven't I known that all along? And if so, why do I consider Jim Gordon to be the better man? Better than both me and the Joker, because he perseveres? What is it that I do, exactly, if not that?
"You're a good friend, Jim... I'm sorry... about your daughter."
"Yeah, I'm sorry, too... about your son..."
"He wasn't my son... not really."
"The hell he wasn't..."
"The bat's a time bomb. I mean, his eyes... Like there was nothing there. Not hate. Nothing. He doesn't care who lives or dies. Not even himself."
"It never stops, does it? It's like our lives are marked by tragedies."
"It's the price of the war, Jim."
"It's too high a price. We mark our lives by tragedy, you and I, nothing else. Divorce. Death. Mutilation. Maiming. More death. Both of us."
"Yes."
"I feel old... old like the stars."