This book has made me a Daredevil fan, even though the title could temporarily be redubbed "Kingpin," since it features Wilson Fisk almost nearly as much as ol' Hornhead. Personally, I'm OK with that. Fisk is as deeply rooted in his ways as Daredevil, so the duo make perfect literary foils, even when they're not grappling with each other.
Even with everything that Matt Murdock has been through in his four-color career, Brubaker manages to find new challenges to make the character live. Old scenarios are flipped on their heads and supporting characters are used to move the story -– not as crutches or false leads, but as braces to hold the action and story up high and to keep it moving forward.
Lark's art is without peer. He's grittily photorealistic without looking like he's tracing from a lightbox. His characters move, and feel, breathe, and hurt. Daredevil looks believable and intimidating, rather than corny and awkward as most of us would in red pajamas with horns on our heads.
This is the book I never knew I really, really wanted to read. Daredevil is a reader's character, enabling the reader to step into his boots. Many readers, myself included, can find relativity through Dakota North's words, "Y'know for a smart guy, Matt. . . you can do some truly idiotic things." Can't we all? One of the most idiotic things you could do would be to ignore such a classic story in the making as is taking shape in "Daredevil". This story is just ramping up, and it's not too late to get in and buckle up for what looks like one hell of a ride.