By Ruel S. De Vera, Associate Editor
Sunday Inquirer Magazine

WHEN my father was a child growing up in the province of Bicol, he devised a way of making some money by buying komiks and renting them out at the neighborhood general store in the post-war years. This is a particularly cool fact considering how much I love comic books today.

Most children, at one point or another, become interested in comic books—and then are expected to leave them behind as they grow up. Thus it has become a bit of a stigma to still like comic books once you enter and exit the teen years.

Many people would be surprised when it turns out that their favorite athletes or artists profess a serious devotion to comic books, as if implying that their idols are too cool to like something as kiddie as comic books.

I consider myself lucky never to have had that problem. Funny Comics (Superkat! Nik-nok!) was weekly ritual. Classics Illustrated was an awesome way to read legendary stories. I remember trading for my first comic book ever in grade school, trading away a soundtrack cassette of “E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial” for a giant-size “The Legion of Super-heroes,” an issue that featured Grimbor the Chainsman on the cover.

The very fact I can identify that guy on the cover speaks to my utter geekiness. I remember that comic book in particular—everything about it. I even remember the full-page ad at the back of the issue, touting what wonderful things you get for free if you sold issues of a newspaper called Grit. I know of other ads as well, speaking of Sea Monkeys and X-Ray Specs.

When I began reading Marvel Comics, I noticed the comics-style ads for Hostess Twinkies. I read a lot of comics during those years, even enjoying the intersection of comics and toys by reading “Transformers” and “G.I. Joe.”

But my favorite comic title back then was unusual. It was“All-Star Squadron,” a DC Comics title written by Roy Thomas that featured authentic (and not-so-authentic) superheroes from World War II. It utterly fascinated me, all these obscure heroes and villains, something that has become a trademark of my reading.

I fell behind in my reading a bit as I entered college, though I was peripherally aware that Superman had died and Batman had his back broken. I wasn’t ashamed of my comics habit—quite the contrary—I was just too busy with other things to keep it up.

I was already working when I picked up my comics habit. It began innocuously enough, with me picking up a few issues then subscribing through Filbars to the Abnett and Lanning Legion of Super-heroes. It was my first time reading the work of the duo and I was hooked.

Gravitating to a store called Comic Quest, I made good friends and picked up more titles. Aside from a renewed interest in the Transformers, I really got into the fantastic DC title “JSA,” which, no surprise here, featured WWII heroes. It was an amazing title, full of heroes both familiar and new.

The writers, James Robinson, Geoff Johns and David Goyer, were perfect fits. I had the opportunity years later to see Goyer in the flesh, telling him that “JSA” was the greatest comic title ever, meaning every single word.

In the process, I have also savored the work of comic books from other parts of the world, particularly Europe where Goscinny and Uderzo’s Asterix The Gaul provide entertainment like no other. I myself have always identified with poor Cacofonix the Bard, who ends every adventure bound and gagged because he wants to sing.

And the comic books from the Philippines took me by surprise, and are now beloved. Gerry Alanguilan’s “Wasted” really disturbed me, making an indelible mark. Arnold Arre’s “The Mythology Class” charmed me. I consider comic books and komiks to be iterations of the same substance in different styles, and so I revel in the legacy of Mars Ravelo’s Captain Barbell as much as I do in the spooky seeking of Budjette Tan’s Alexandra Trese.

Comic books have a different vibe now, partly because of the success of so many comic book-based movies. When even a challenging series like “Watchmen” can be made into a movie, you know you’re living in a new world. It is a time with its transcendent adaptations (“The Dark Knight”) and its crash and-burn attempts (“Steel”). And I try to catch each one. The monthly periodicals (affectionately referred to as “floppies”) are an endangered species, while the graphic novel and the collected trade paperback ensure a longer lifespan for the stories.

Even collecting is different now, with comics suddenly expensive collector’s items and some people sliding the mint edition issues into Mylar sleeves, never to be read. That’s anathema to me, because comic books are almost as pure an incarnation of storytelling as you’ll ever find, a melding of the visual and literary narratives. Comics are meant to be read, to be shared, not stashed away far from the eyes of would-be readers.

Today, I read a lot of comic books and love it. I remain unabashed about my love for the medium because there is simply no other like it. From my father’s rental stock to my bedside table, we continue to read—and we are legion.

Read all about the joy of comic books in the May 17, 2009 issue of the Sunday Inquirer Magazine.