It’s a chilly Saturday morning, and Butler’s book-packed halls are as inviting as ever. I’m in no hurry, so I take my time glancing down the rows and rows of books in the stacks on the 10th floor. Like any Columbian I have highbrow tendencies—but this time, I’m not after a deeply psychological novel, a work of esoteric philosophy, or a collection of obscure Georgian poetry. I happen to be browsing the shelves of Butler’s comics collection.
