Origin (Comics) | Review

Origin isn't your typical superhero back-story filled with training montages and heroic awakenings. This is trauma literature dressed in mutant clothing– a gothic tragedy that asks what it costs to become something other than human, and whether you can ever truly come back from it once you've crossed that dark line.

Published in 2001, this limited series was controversial from the start. Fans worried that explaining Wolverine's past would ruin his mystique. Instead, Jenkins and Kubert delivered something far more unsettling– a story that makes his future feel inevitable and tragic.

Set in late 1800s of rural Canada, Origin introduces us to a sickly kid named James Howlett and doesn't tell you upfront that this is Logan. For most of the first issue, you're trying to figure out which kid will grow up to become Wolverine. Is it the groundskeeper's aggressive son Dog Logan or this frail sick rich kid with chronic illness?

The setting itself feels deliberate– cold, isolated and unforgiving. Canada in the 1800s wasn't just a backdrop but a reflection of James' internal world. Everything about his childhood feels suffocating, from the rigid class structure to the emotional distance in his own home.

Origin unfolds like a slow-burning gothic novel. James is haunted by grief, confusion and a gnawing sense of not belonging. He lives in a mansion with an emotionally detached and unloving mother, who ignores him and a distant father. The only person who shows him any kindness is this sweet red-haired girl named Rose.

What makes Origin brilliant is how it refuses to rush. Jenkins takes his time building dread, letting you sit with James' unbearable loneliness before the violence erupts. You're not watching an action hero get powers– you're watching a child's life shatter in real time.

Then it happens– a moment of trauma, violence and revelation that changes everything. James witnesses something deeply traumatic that triggers his latent mutant ability and BAM, three razor-sharp bone claws tear through his bloody knuckles in a burst of fear and rage.

In that very moment, the legacy of Wolverine begins– with young James screaming in pain and confusion. The story gets really heavy as James and Rose flee into the wilderness. James starts calling himself "Logan" and slowly loses pieces of who he used to be. He stops talking as much, his memories get fuzzy and he becomes more... feral.

Here, the series leans heavily into tragedy. Logan becomes a shadow of himself– not yet the berserker we all know and love, but not the innocent boy he was either. The more he learns to survive in the harsh, unforgiving wild, the more he drifts away from humanity.

Logan's mutation isn't just physical– it's spiritual and deeply psychological. He even loses his ability to connect emotionally with those around him. What was once grief for him slowly turns into something cold and animal-like that's really heartbreaking to watch unfold.

The final chapter lands with a devastating blow. There's no grand twist, no moral closure, no costume, no X-Men showing up, no big battle to save the world. It's just Logan– alone again– wandering with the unbearable weight of his blood-soaked past, too heavy to carry and too painful to forget or escape from completely.

From a broader perspective, Origin took a huge risk in 2001. Wolverine's mysterious past was part of what made him cool. Instead of ruining the mystery, Origin actually makes him more compelling to fans. It showed that trauma– not heroism– is what shapes most Marvel heroes.

This isn't a superhero story in the traditional sense. It's more like a Greek tragedy that happens to a guy who will eventually become a deadly weapon and join the X-Men. There's just a scared little boy, his bloody claws and the cold, brutal, unforgiving world that violently created him and stripped away everything he once loved.

The artwork absolutely nails the haunting mood of Wolverine's origin story. Kubert's drawing feels grounded and real, while Isanove's painting keeps everything muted and shadowy. Canadian wilderness looks beautiful but lonely– like it's mourning alongside Logan.

The panel layouts deserve special mention too. Kubert uses tight, claustrophobic framing during James' childhood scenes, then opens up the pages once Logan hits the wilderness. It's visual storytelling that perfectly mirrors his psychological shift from trapped, sheltered rich kid to an untamed, feral survivor living on animal instinct.

Jenkins and Kubert achieved a delicate kind of horror in Origin. Not body horror but pure emotional horror– the dread of watching Logan go through all the tragic events of his life. This is a story of how he was born but also the tragic tale of how his younger innocent self died.

Jenkins never tries to over-explain or glorify the characters. Instead, Origin leaves space for mystery and in doing so, it honors the fragmented nature of Logan's identity. It showed how trauma can completely reshape a broken person, violently stripping away everything they once were and leaving only survival instincts behind.