There's nothing terribly wrong with Concrete, but it doesn't stand out in a big way either. The premise is rather thin and the storylines come out of nowhere; issue 4 already has our not-yet-established hero playing bodyguard for a rock star. Of all things, the book is closest to a 1990s teen soap opera, like 90210 or Melrose Place. Odd. ( )

Concrete is a man with a body made of...well, concrete. He weighs 1200 pounds, is impenetrable to bullets, can hold his breath for over an hour, and possesses superhuman strength. Concrete isn't your typical superhuman comic book series though. There aren't any supervillains, no epic battles to "Save the world," none of the usual over-the-top absurdity usually associated with the genre, other than the nature of the main character himself. No, instead the comic series is mostly about Concrete coming to grips with his new body, testing its boundaries, and using it for more modest tasks, such as rescuing a few trapped miners in a collapsed tunnel.

I enjoyed the series, but I'm not a huge fan of the superhero genre. Concrete deviates from the norm but it still has that feeling of an 80's-era comic book. I'd say it's definitely worth looking into if you like that sort of thing, but it wasn't really my thing. ( )

Most American comics fall into the superhero genre, and a lot of the most thoughtful ones use that genre to make an interesting statement. Concrete falls into that second category, along with Astro City, It's a Bird, and others of my personal favorites.

The concept is the normal guy who is mysteriously granted super powers, a Silver Age cliche that recalls Spider-Man and the Incredible Hulk. This time, though, our hero is not a desperate teenager but a grown man, a politician's speechwriter, and recently divorced. Also, unlike his Marvel predecessors, Concrete does not live in a world of superheroes; he is the only one of his kind. This premise leads to a more realistic consideration of the superhero in society: there are government cover-ups, scientific research, celebrity appeal. Concrete becomes a licensed character, and goes on tour with a musician who resembles Prince. Wherever he goes, he is the center of attention.

In the end, it's a poignant story of a man who is granted new opportunities at the same time that the possibility of simple human existence is taken from him. He can (and does) attempt to swim the Atlantic Ocean and climb Mount Everest, but work, romance, and family are no longer part of his life. Throughout all of his trials, though, Concrete remains a believably human character. This volume's cover image says it all: it's a portrait of Concrete, whose two fragile eyes peer out from behind a face of stone.

Original post on "All The Things I've Lost"