AT FIRST, NORTHSTAR, the pioneering openly gay comic-book superhero of Marvel Comics, was a beacon of hope in the gay community, heralded as an about-face for a company whose former CEO Jim Shooter declared “No Gays in the Marvel Universe” more than 25 years ago. Then, in 2005, Northstar's writers had him murdered, not once, not twice, but three separate times in three separate realities. Fans began to scrutinise the comic-book world's subsequent homosexual (out or suspected) characters and discovered that the vast majority of them suffered similarly atrocious fates: a host of impalings, murders, rapes or vilification.

Perry Moore is the author of the new young adult novel Hero, whose laudable protagonist Thom Creed is a young superpowered man struggling with revealing his cosmic gifts and his homosexuality. Moore methodically catalogued the fates of each of these characters (there are nearly 75 by his count) in a manifesto-like text called Who Cares about the Death of a Gay Superhero? His findings became a call to arms for him to create his own gay superhero: one that, uniquely, emerges victorious.

“The ‘tragedy' of being gay has been told enough times,” Moore says, with the emphatic passion of an avenger. “I feel like I am one of the first to tell a different story. Gay people don't have to be victims. Thom is the centre of his own story.” Like his protagonist, Moore bucks the homosexual stereotypes of the limp-wristed effete that are the comic world's predominant characterisations of gay characters. He is youthful, with rakish blond hair, a masculine demeanour and Baywatch looks. Last November he was named “Sexy Man of the Week” by People magazine, a publication that targets a primarily heterosexual female audience.

Pointedly, Thom is devoid of the grossly stereotypical attributes that comic books link to their gay characters' sexual preference. He's a whiz at sport (as was Moore growing up in Virginia Beach, Virginia) with a raging high-school crush (“I fell for a guy on my basketball team, wicked jump shot, great smile,” Moore says), competitive and slightly out of touch with his emotions. In other words - your average adolescent male. His very typicalness is something that young gay readers facing ostracisation can take strength in.

The autobiographical similarities Thom shares with his creator continue to the strained though loving relationship that the fictional character has with his initially homophobic father. Moore's own father is a Vietnam veteran, once revered and later shunned as public sentiment to that war changed. “My father was my hero for what he had to overcome,” Moore says. “The world at best ignored him, at worst treated him like pariah.” Thom's father similarly has fallen from grace. “I wrote the book to tell about my dad and to tell the world about the experience of growing up different.” Thom's world isn't that different to ours, except that it's populated by superpowered heroes and baddies who are constantly scrapping. The good guys, “The League”, are called upon to save the day with the frequency with which we in our world ring the fire brigade to rescue Kitty.

Thom, discovering his uncanny ability to heal with his hands, seeks to join their ranks, yet is afraid that his homosexuality will prevent his acceptance into their fraternity. But his fears of their reception take a distant second to his anxiety over his father's reaction, a struggle felt by Moore in his own youth. Indeed, an exchange in which Thom's father says that homosexuality “is one of the world's biggest problems”, is drawn directly from Moore's own experience. Yet bigots aren't vilified, in the book or in Moore's life. “The generation above my parents was racist,” he says. “My parents were careful to make sure we were not.” To him, doing the same for homophobia is carrying that torch.

The book is entertaining, though in contrast to its rich core tackling deep social issues, the writing is light: it's mostly action-led. “The best writers never let you know that they are on their soapbox,” Moore says, though at times he falls short of that goal. Battle scenes read like notes from a screenplay directing action - a left hook there, a blast of laser here. There is little of the richness possible when depicting sweeping clashes between good and evil. This is surprising, since Moore is an ardent student of C.S. Lewis: before writing Hero he was best known for his producing work taking that author's battles from Narnia's pages to the silver screen.Lewis attended his dual agendas - of writing an exquisite novel and a biblical allegory for children - in equal measure.

Moore's predominant focus is clearly on mitigating the negative associations he feels that gays have been lambasted with by the comic- book powers that be.

Moore set out to avenge Northstar, and has his sights set - superhero-style - on avenging a generation. “Literature at its greatest can change the world for the better,” he says, adding: “None of us was put on this planet to ride on the back of the bus.” Be they gay, straight or superpowered.

Hero by Perry Moore
Corgi, £5.99; 432pp Buy the book here

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