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Journalism of Courage
Bruce Wayne is an engineer. He lost his father in a shooting. His mother is alive and works with Jim Gordon. Bruce spends his time with Harvey Dent (Two-Face), Edward Nigma (the Riddler), Selina Kyle (Catwoman) and Waylon Jones (Killer Croc). They are childhood friends who stay over at each other’s homes and often play cards together.
Alfred Pennyworth is an Afghanistan veteran and a trained assassin. Jim Gordon is a former police commissioner and the current Mayor of Gotham City.
Unreal? Unusual? Almost sacrilegious? That is exactly what writer Scott Snyder and artist Nick Dragotta deliver in Absolute Batman Volume 1: The Zoo, a radical reimagining of the Batman legend in a modern setting. The series began late last year, and its first six issues have now been compiled into a single volume.
This is not the first time that someone has taken Batman’s story away from the familiar “child traumatised by the murder of his parents, who grows up to fight crime” trope that dominated comics until the 1980s.
Frank Miller famously presented Batman as a middle-aged, retired vigilante in his iconic Dark Knight series, which inspired Christopher Nolan’s films. Yet, most reinterpretations have not left a permanent mark on the Batman mythos. The Zoo promises something very different.
Within a few pages it is clear that this is no routine Batman story. It begins with the gritty, noir-style narration typical of Gotham, as a mysterious figure on a motorbike muses over the city. When the helmet comes off, the surprise is immediate.
“My name is Alfred Pennyworth,” the figure declares. “And I am here to do some bad things.”
This Alfred is not the avuncular, genteel English butler who raises Bruce Wayne like a second father. Instead, he is a lean, lethal, battle-hardened killer. Imagine Bruce Willis replacing Michael Caine, and you have some idea. For much of The Zoo, Alfred is the story’s narrator.
Gotham is under siege. Its tormentors are not mob bosses or supervillains, but savage gangs calling themselves Party Animals. Wearing grotesque animal masks, they roam the city, slaughtering citizens without reason or ransom. The police, and even Mayor Jim Gordon, are powerless.
Readers should be warned, The Zoo is not for children, nor for the faint-hearted. Its violence is unflinching. In one scene, the leader of the Party Animals breaks a man’s limbs before strangling him, all while chatting amiably with Harvey Dent.
Batman himself is no gentler. At one point, he hacks off an attacker’s hand with cold precision. “They can sometimes reattach them,” he tells the horrified man. “There is a hospital three blocks south. Or perhaps east. I forget. But I would run.” This is Batman as a brutal enforcer, more comfortable with carnage than cleverness.
As Alfred stalks the Party Animals, a new figure emerges: a man in the shape of a bat, tearing into the gangs with relentless fury. At first sceptical, Alfred slowly recognises the reality.
“Maybe that is all he is,” Alfred reflects. “One long advance forward. Batman AF.”
The narrative shifts between present-day Gotham and Bruce Wayne’s past, showing how he became Batman. The zoo of the title is both literal and metaphorical: the scene of his father’s murder during a school trip, and a symbol of Gotham itself, now overrun by beasts.
Snyder’s writing, combined with Dragotta’s bold illustrations, lends The Zoo a cinematic quality—you can almost hear the bones break and the bullets fly. Like Frank Miller’s Dark Knight, this story also scrutinises society, media, politics, and policing, and shows why Gotham needs a vigilante.
The art pays homage to Miller, particularly in full-page spreads of Batman leaping into battle. For the most immersive experience, the digital edition on a tablet is recommended, as zooming through the panels enhances the detail.
One of the boldest departures is Bruce Wayne’s relationship with his mother, Martha. Unlike the usual tragic martyr, she is alive, working alongside Gordon, and clashing with her increasingly withdrawn son. Their exchanges are sharp, even volatile. At one point, when Bruce tries to stop her from leaving the house, she snaps: “I am going to kiss you now so I do not slap you.”
The book’s 176 pages are dense with plot twists and visceral imagery. The ending may not fully satisfy, but the theatrical storytelling recalls both Miller’s comics and Nolan’s films. The final epilogue twist sets the stage for Volume 2, expected at Christmas.
At around ₹1500 for the paperback and ₹1350 for the digital version, Absolute Batman Volume 1: The Zoo is not cheap, but it is a compelling investment for fans. Dark, violent, and often bleak, it never extinguishes the spark of hope that defines Batman. Different Bruce, different Gotham—but still:
Batman AF.
