“I have a tendency to become obsessed with things I really like,” says the guy who wrote 1600 words about Chris Claremont last week. My enthusiasm flares up suddenly, burns brightly for a while, and then after an indeterminate period of time the next new thing takes its place. That doesn’t mean I no longer love the object of my initial enthusiasm; it just gets pushed to the background while my new darling — whatever that may be — commands all my attention.

The strangest part of this phenomenon is that those items in the background can burst forth again and fascinate me all over again. Comic books obviously feed this tendency; I can read a book for months, and then something changes — writer leaves, new artist can only draw one face, Wolverine makes one too many unwarranted guest appearances — and I’m done with it. Until a few months later, when something else changes and it’s back on my list.

Usagi Yojimbo is the most extreme example of my mental foible. I bought Usagi Yojimbo in the 80s like it was my job to support this book. I talked it up constantly, made my friends read it, argued that it was better than Lone Wolf and Cub (an argument I would no longer be foolish enough to make, because they’re equally great and entirely different books) and went so far as to homebrew some rules for a Stan Sakai variant universe of warrior animals for Dungeons and Dragons. My connection with Usagi would have greatly affected my personal life, if I had had one at the time.

And then I didn’t buy it anymore. I have no idea when I stopped buying it, or why. I suspect it was due to Usagi’s slightly irregular publishing schedule, but I’m not positive.

After all these years and all the opportunities to catch up with my rabbit hero, it was the impulse purchase of a used Usagi Yojimbo graphic novel a few weeks ago that rekindled my fascination (that impulse was spurred on in no small part by the Webster Film Series’ amazing Akira Kurosawa festival). Actually, it was like gasoline thrown on a fire as far as my brain was concerned; I went back and bought all the used copies, and then bought five new ones, and I would have got more but I sometimes like to eat a meal.

Everything I loved about Stan Sakai’s feudal Japan remains, but it somehow seems more fantastic, more meaningful after all these years apart. Part of that meaningfulness no doubt comes from me being an older and ever-so-infinitesimally-more-mature person. Despite Sakai’s all-ages approach to his storytelling, many of his tales have emotional components that are adult in resonance; elements I glossed over 20 years ago to get to more sword fighting I now find to be the best part of the stories. Usagi’s complicated relationship with Nakamura Koji, the ronin who seeks to duel and defeat Usagi’s teacher and friend Katsuichi; Gen’s conflicted emotions about shouldering his father’s responsibilities; the perfectly-crafted arc of Usagi and his son Jotaro’s journey and eventual parting — these are beautiful pieces of a whole that is grander and more powerful than the younger me ever recognized. It’s enlightening and surprising to recognize that my favorite parts of my favorite black & white book are the grey areas. And, you know, the sword fights are still boss.

So, I urge you all to seek out a book you haven’t read for years, or to revisit one you once loved but long ago filed away in the back of the bottom long box. What you find may surprise you, especially if you’ve deceived yourself into believing you’ve never grown up, as I have. If that sounds like too much work, well, I’m trying not to be the guy who browbeats people to buy their favorite comics, but you could maybe take a look at Usagi Yojimbo, if you’re so inclined.

Usagi Volume 24 ships this week, if that’s any enticement.

-Paul

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