Comic books have always put the reader right on top of the action. We have close-ups on both good guys and bad. We hear their conversations, we know what they're thinking, we are fully aware of their motivations.

But Kurt Busiek didn't want to write that kind of comic book. And Marvels, a four-issue mini-series collected in a single edition in 1994, approached the Marvel universe of superheroes from a new perspective.

Ours.

Busiek wrote the book from the vantage point of normal, mortal folk, those who live in this world without benefit of wonderful powers and colorful costumes. Those who, if they're lucky, might see some superhero action from a close, but reasonably safe distance or, if they're unlucky, might get swept into the maelstrom as the hero and villain bust their way through the streets and pound on each other's indestructible heads.

The story in Marvels follows closely on the heels of Phil Sheldon, a young New York City photographer in the days just before the United States joined the fight in World War II. It was then that the first "marvels" entered the world: the original Human Torch, a flaming android; Namor, the Sub-Mariner, prince of the seas; Captain America, chemically enhanced to be at the peak of human fitness.

At first, people don't know how to react to the marvels. But Busiek gets it just right: a mixture of disbelief, admiration, fear, envy. And the public is a fickle beast, showering these heroes with accolades one day, abuse the next, and never sure whether their terror exceeds their sense of amazement that such beings even exist.

And Sheldon, who loses an eye after finding himself too close to one super-powered conflict, still seems to have the clearest vision when it comes to public perception of the heroes. When danger threatens, the people rally behind their gaudily garbed champions; when things are quiet, people resent those who have abilities beyond their own.

Those feelings grow following the war and the subsequent "marvel" age -- the return of Captain American and Namor, the birth of the Fantastic Four, the creation of the Avengers, etc. And then there's the anti-mutant hysteria. But through it all, Sheldon serves to keep things in perspective -- his own, his journalist's point of view, and the impact these changes in the world have on a young family.

It's a powerful tale, and it deserves powerful art. It got just that from Alex Ross, who painted lush, brilliant art for every page of the collection. Every panel has an incredible realism about it; the faces are of portrait quality, and credulous readers might believe they see a few of them blink. Even the inhuman splendor of the marvels have a real-life look to them, and their costumes don't look like something painted on, but rather like something someone might wear.

Battle scenes, sometimes viewed at a distance, sometimes close-up through Sheldon's telephoto lens, are particularly potent presentations of super-powered violence.

One of the strongest points of Marvels is its creators' attention to detail. Busiek has mapped out an incredibly detailed history of the Marvel universe, touching at least briefly on most of the pivotal events which occurred over the years. And Ross has filled the pages with visual treats, little tidbits which add extra layers to the book's enjoyment. For instance, check out the guests at the wedding of Reed Richards and Sue Storm. (And tell me Richards doesn't bear a striking resemblance to the professor from Gilligan's Island.) Take a look at the fashions in the store window before and after Sheldon's encounter with the X-Men. And, for the first time ever in a Marvel book, villain Norman Osborne's hair looks like hair.

The Silver Surfer -- always a pretty silly hero, in my opinion -- finally looks real, with light reflecting in artistic splendor from his shiny skin. But it also begs the question -- when the world-devouring Galactus threatens the planet with destruction, where the hell were the Avengers and other heroes? Why'd they sit that one out while the Fantastic Four got clocked?

Another very nice touch is the scattering of newspapers -- with clearly legible headlines and photos -- throughout the book. This keeps readers informed what else is going on in the Marvel world without forcing Busiek and Ross to sacrifice additional panels to tell it directly.

It also gives them an excuse to focus somewhat on the media itself, and they show us a day when newspapers were actually go-get-'em aggressive about reporting. It's an exciting perspective, and makes me yearn for the return of that kind of journalism instead of the tabloid style so in favor today. Of course, with a newspaper focus, Busiek also introduces a goodly number of Marvel's ongoing supporting cast, like top-notch Daily Bugle reporter Ben Urich, gruff editor J. Jonah Jameson (who Busiek shows us as a young reporter, back when he still had ethics and a real news sense), and staffers like Robertson, Brant and Foswell -- and even a smarmy young photographer named Parker.

The book also points a finger at some of the lunacies of the human race -- at least, the one which inhabits the Marvel world. For instance, how many times does Namor have to go on a rampage of utter destruction before the world labels him a "bad guy"? Why is it that his countless attacks on the world are instantly forgiven and forgotten the instant he does something heroic?

And it underscores the feelings of helplessness which must reign when the fate of the city, or even the world, lies in the hands of costumed heroes who are fighting seemingly insurmountable odds.

The final chapter is the most human of all. Investigating the death of a former police captain, Sheldon -- who doesn't buy Jameson's anti-Spider-Man propaganda -- meets the lovely Gwen Stacy, who gets caught up in a titanic battle between Spider-Man and the Green Goblin. If you don't come away from this chapter feeling the human side of superheroics, you obviously forgot to turn the pages.

Most comic books are grounded clearly in the realm of comics; there's no sense of reality there. But Marvels does the implausible -- it takes the fantasy world of superheroes and makes them seem real. And it holds a mirror up to us to show how we'd act and react if superheroes really did begin appearing among us.

By focusing on the human aspect, Marvels makes the existence of super heroes seem -- marvelous.