It's pretty much impossible to not be intrigued by a book titled "Captain Freedom: A Superhero's Quest for Truth, Justice and the Celebrity He So Richly Deserves." That's why we're thinking author G. Xavier Robillard will be pretty busy this weekend at New York ComicCon, where he'll be promoting his satire about a once-popular superhero whose caché is about on par with that of William Katt (Anybody? "The Greatest American Hero"? Anybody?).

This is Robillard's first novel, but we've been fans of his work for quite some time. As a blogger, he contributes to a host of humor sites, from some really funny ones to Asylum. OK, so we're biased. We're not alone in our praise of "Captain Freedom," though. Publisher's Weekly commented that "It's funny and smart, and even readers who've long given up comic books will enjoy the ride."

If you're still on the fence about taking the ride, click here to read some of the good parts of "Captain Freedom," after the jump.

Page 6, from the chapter "Forced Out": "Entering the conference room, I'm immediately suspicious. They have a PowerPoint presentation. First the accountants remind me that my insurance premiums are too high. But I have put a generation of criminals behind bars. Then they start hurling fiduciary mumbo-jumbo like Zeus' lighting bolts. 'Sales of your comic book are in decline.' 'The market favors graphic novels about losers.' 'We've posted losses for the last seven quarters." "We can't compete with that indecipherable but adorable manga.'"

Page 44, from the chapter "Sidekick Found": "For over a year, I hear the same story: due to writer strikes and the high overhead and insurance costs, nobody is getting extra staff. They actually make me fire the driver of the Freedom Utility Vehicle, and I have to drive it myself. But my manager tells me there is good news: instead of paying for an actual assistant, the IT department at Gotham has provided me with a computer-generated alternative. My new sidekick is an animated paperclip with legs. His name is Whizbang. 'But you can call me Whizzy!' I do not."

Page 76, from the chapter "Time Travel": "We sign the standard waiver after reading through the three rules of time travel:
-- You must wear era-appropriate clothing. This is especially true of synthetic fabrics that haven't yet been invented in your destination time -- they could disrupt fashion patterns and create a confusing twenty-first century leiderhosen craze.
-- You should not meet a younger version of yourself. If you encounter the past version of yourself, explain it away using Dickens' Ghost of Something Future. The younger version of you won't recognize you, thinking it's impossible you would ending up looking so bad in 25 years, and dismiss you as some Dickens-spouting bum.
-- You must not do anything to affect the course of history. This rule is total bullshit, but you agree to it anyway, just like you agree to pay your work for any office supplies that you use for personal reasons."

Page 105, from the chapter "Life On Mars": "I've seen framed photos and dozens of comics depicting life here, but nothing can get you ready for a Martian sunrise. You stare at the Earth, and you think, oh my god, it's really far away. And then the Ecstasy kicks in, and you get all excited for a really fantastic day of hanging out on another planet and beating the crap out of the Martians. It will be a difficult battle for me. Jet lag, less gravity and a smaller planetary mass dampen my ability to predict the weather. I feel off balance, like I can't get my sea legs. The climate here is so awful, it's like the Pacific Northwest. There's a 90 percent chance that you'd rather stay home, drink coffee and start a zine."