I’m Hexed.

I hate to admit it, but a few months back I skipped over the first issue of the new Jonah Hex. Sure, as a good ol’ country boy, I grew up watching John Wayne, Clint Eastwood and others kicking ass and taking names in westerns.

I’ll still watch one now and again (my dad and I agree, 1953’s “Shane” with Alan Ladd is the cream of the crop), but I’m not quite the cowboy enthusiast I once was, Brokeback Mountain not withstanding (that’s a joke, I swear).

I also never had much exposure to Jonah Hex. I’ve seen a few books over the years, but was never too impressed. It seemed like a superhero book trapped in the old west, and I mean that in the worst way possible.

On a whim, I grabbed issue two. With that and now issue three under my belt, I can proudly say I’m back in the saddle. The funny thing is, the complaint I hear most about the new Jonah Hex is precisely what I enjoy so much about it.

Critics and fans have complained about the cutting out of Hex’s “mystical powers” that he wielded back in the day. Now, he’s just a cowboy with a gun.

Yeah, he’s a cowboy with a gun. But he’s also got that hard edge that only comes with the toughest hombres, a sense of fairness that keeps him respectable, the scarred up face that somehow makes him cooler and an itchy trigger finger. I credit writers Justin Gray and Jimmy Palmiotti for instilling the spirit of the best westerns (not the motels). Luke Ross also contributes with art that evokes a very realistic Southwest.

It’s not a superhero in the old west. It’s just a cowboy book, but a damn fine one.