The periods that count: the two essays of Sarah Byam and Trevor Von Eeden(October 3, 1991, then November 19, 1992); the team series launched by Chuck Dixon the November 4, 1998, by far the most important; the duo of Judd Winick and Cliff Chiang(October 10, 2007); the series of Brenden Fletcher and Annie Wu(June 17, 2015); and the tournament Tom King and Ryan Sook(November 27, 2024).
Five series have borne his name in thirty-five years. None made it past a handful of issues, and yet the character never disappeared.
This apparent contradiction becomes clear as soon as we stop classifying these publications by quality and instead classify them by format: this character does not resist the solo story, and each generation of authors has rediscovered him to their cost - until someone finally finds the framework that suits him.
Why the solo story resists it
Let's pose the problem before examining the answers, because it conditions everything.
This heroine differs from almost all the major figures of her publisher by one specific point:it is defined by a skill, not by a power. She fights better than the others. It is an acquired, maintained, transmissible superiority — the exact opposite of a gift.
On paper, it's a strength. In use, this creates three writing difficulties.
A skill does not produce a show by itself. A power is shown in one box; technical mastery must be demonstrated over time, against someone comparable. You therefore need an opponent equal to your level in each episode, which quickly wears out.
A skill does not provide designated enemies. The galleries of adversaries are built as a mirror of power. Without power, there is no reflection — hence the remarkable absence of lasting antagonistic figures in its history.
A skill is assessed by comparison. Knowing that she is the better fighter only makes sense when surrounded by people who fight. Isolated in its own magazine, the quality that defines it becomes unverifiable.
This is why her best pages are almost all in publications where she is not alone. This is not a lack of editorial care: it is structural.
1991 and 1992: two close tests
The first two attempts came in quick succession, under the same creative team.
The first, on newsstands on October 3, 1991 priced at $1.75, is written by Sarah Byam and drawn by Trevor Von Eeden. The opening story announces domestic troubles, and the program is indeed that: to bring the heroine back to human level, in a city, with ordinary problems.
The second, launched on November 19, 1992, takes the same team for a slightly longer series, the first chapter of which deals with hero worship.
These two publications are worth more than their reputation. Byam writes an adult, autonomous character grappling with concrete social issues, and Von Eeden brings a nervous trait that contrasts with the production of the time.
They nevertheless fail on the problem described above: deprived of partners, the heroine spends her time confronting ordinary criminals who do not put her skills to the test. The catalog incidentally notes a British price of one pound on these issues.
To read for curiosity, and for an underrated drawing. These numbers can be found for almost nothing.
1998: the solution was the team
Here's the decisive run, and it involves stopping giving her a magazine of her own.
After an isolated essay published in 1996, a regular series began on November 4, 1998 at the price of $1.99, from the pen of Chuck Dixon. The principle: associate the heroine with a partner who doesn't fight at all, but who knows everything - one acts on the ground, the other analyzes from a distance.
The device suddenly solves the three difficulties stated above.
Physical competence becomes visible, because an external voice comments on it and measures it. She becomes necessary, because the partner depends entirely on it. And she becomes characterizing, because the contrast between the two women makes each one exist.
This series lasted for years and is among its publisher's most regular publications over the period. Above all, it established a definition of the character which has not changed since, and which has informed all subsequent adaptations.
Our entry recommendation, without hesitation. The first issues remain very accessible, as we detail in ourprice analysis.
2007: two directions in three months
The year 2007 offers one after the other a limited series and a regular series, very different from each other.
The first, arriving on July 5, 2007, is a four-part mini-series whose title announces a difficult coexistence with sin. She explores the maternal side of the character, a little-trodden terrain.
The second, launched on October 10, 2007 and written by Judd Winick, sets him up as a permanent duo with a long-time partner.Cliff Chiang delivers plates with remarkable clarity of line.
This series divides, and it must be said frankly. Seen from our heroine, she marks a regression: after a decade where she led her own team, she finds herself defined by a relationship. Some readers see it as a sentimental outcome, others as a loss of autonomy. The design is unanimous.
2015: the most unexpected proposal
The series launched on June 17, 2015 by Brenden Fletcher and Annie Wu is the strangest of the file, and probably the most successful on a formal level.
Its principle lies in the title of the first episode: the heroine is the singer of a rock group, presented as the most dangerous in the country. The series follows a tour.
This radical shift works for a specific reason. A concert is a collective, choreographed confrontation, where physical performance is the very subject. The musical format therefore naturally provides what solo stories failed to produce: a framework where his mastery of the body is constantly staged.
Annie Wu draws in a graphic register close to the concert poster, with aggressive flat areas and a layout that borrows from a fanzine. It's the most identifiable visual work ever devoted to the character.
The catalog notes two alternative covers on the first issue, including a convention exclusive. No impact on reading.
2024: the format she was waiting for
The most recent series, on shelves since November 27, 2024 priced at $4.99, is signed Tom King to the script and Ryan Sook to the drawing.
Its device is announced straightforwardly by the title of the first chapter, which speaks of first round: it's a tournament. A succession of fights, each against a different opponent, until the best one is chosen.
After thirty years of attempts, someone has finally constructed a framework where the question posed by the character — who fights best? — literally becomes the plot. Competence no longer needs to be justified by a context: it East the context.
King writes here in a drier register than usual, and Sook delivers exemplary readability, essential when a story is entirely based on confrontations. The first issue exists in four cover versions.
Special edition: the duo with a magician
A volume published in 2014 deserves a separate mention, because it occupies a singular position.
It associates the heroine with a magical figure from the same house, in a complete story conceived as an autonomous object. The interest lies in the contrast: a powerless fighter facing a manipulator of the unreal, forced to cooperate.
It's an ideal read to discover both characters at once, and it requires no prior knowledge. We talk about it again in ourZatanna's best runs.
What none of these series tell
An absence deserves to be noted, because it surprises readers coming from other characters.
None of these runs constitutes a original story. There is no equivalent, on this character, of those volumes which repeat everything from the beginning and serve as a common reference for all readers.
The reason lies in the editorial history, developed in ourarticle about his beginnings: the reorganization of the 1980s split identity between two generations, making any single origin difficult to write. Telling where it comes from would require resolving a question that the editor prefers to leave open.
The practical consequence is rather pleasant.You can start anywhere without having the impression of missing a prerequisite, since there is no founding text to know. Few figures of this age offer such free entry.
In what order to read
The most efficient route: the 1998 team series, then the 2024 tournament. You will have the character as he works, in the two formats that suit him, without going through the unsuccessful attempts.
The journey of the curious: the 2015 series first. This is the most original entry point, and the one that best sets the tone of the character for someone who knows nothing about it.
The complete journey: in chronological order since 1991. You will then see three generations of authors stumbling over the same obstacle, then getting around it. It is instructive beyond this single file.
His 1947 debut is the subject ofseparate study, and the organization of a coherent collection of ourdedicated guide.
The most frequently asked questions
By the team series launched on November 4, 1998 from the pen of Chuck Dixon. This is the character's decisive run: he associates her with a partner who does not fight but who knows everything, which makes her physical competence visible, necessary and characterizing. This definition has not changed since and has informed all the adaptations.
Because it is defined by a skill and not by a power. Technical mastery does not produce a spectacle in one box, does not generate established enemies, and can only be appreciated by comparison. Isolated in its own magazine, the quality that defines it becomes unverifiable. This is not a lack of editorial care, it is structural.
It is the most unexpected proposal and undoubtedly the most formally successful. A concert is a choreographed collective confrontation where physical performance is the subject: the musical framework therefore naturally provides what solo narratives did not produce. Annie Wu draws there in a concert poster style, the most identifiable visual work in the file.
Because it makes the question asked by the character the plot itself. A succession of battles against different adversaries until the best is chosen: after thirty years of attempts, skill no longer needs to be justified by a context, it is the context. Tom King writes, Ryan Sook delivers exemplary readability.
For curiosity and for an underestimated drawing. Sarah Byam writes an adult and autonomous character, grappling with concrete social questions, and Trevor Von Eeden brings a nervous trait which contrasts with the production of the time. However, they come up against the obstacle of the solo format. These numbers can be found for almost nothing.
It divides. Seen from the heroine's perspective, she marks a regression: after a decade where she led her own team, she finds herself defined by a relationship. Some see it as a sentimental outcome, others as a loss of autonomy. On the other hand, Cliff Chiang's drawing, with its remarkable clarity of line, is unanimously unanimous.
Yes, a 2014 volume that associates her with a magician from the same house, designed as a stand-alone object. The contrast between a powerless fighter and a manipulator of the unreal forced to cooperate makes it an excellent entry point, with no prior knowledge required.
Because the galleries of antagonists are built as a mirror of a power: each durable enemy responds to a specific capacity. Without the power to reflect, no figure imposes itself naturally. This is one of the three direct consequences of his definition by skill, and it explains the remarkable absence of regular enemies in his story.
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