The Boss Behind the Book

Shakespeare and Superheroes

"I thought I was going to be the Shakespeare guy at some liberal arts school," he said.

Growing up, his mother told him he was “probably training for a job that didn’t exist yet.” Between Shakespeare and superheroes, she wasn't wrong.

Lewis was the kid who dressed as Spider-Man every Halloween and never outgrew comics. But it wasn't until a Brandeis University professor encouraged him to write about Neil Gaiman's “The Sandman” alongside “A Midsummer Night's Dream” that the two worlds finally collided.

Lewis laughs that the professor "made the mistake" of letting him write about comics.

"I've always seen stories visually," he said.

That assignment changed everything. It led to comic writing, an Eisner Award nomination, judging at San Diego Comic-Con, and decades of scholarship exploring everything from cancer and loneliness to religion and identity through panels and pictures.

Working alongside peers and future healthcare professionals at MCPHS, Lewis said he began to see that comics belonged in medicine, too. Lewis is also one of the organizers of the New England Graphic Medicine Summit, which was held at MCPHS last October.

"When students look at me skeptically about it, I remind them that anytime they go on an airplane, the way we're taught where all the emergency equipment is—that's a comic," he said. "It breaks through language barriers."

Graphic medicine builds on that same idea. The field brings together doctors, nurses, artists, educators, and researchers who use visual storytelling to explain illness, deepen empathy, and help patients communicate experiences that words alone sometimes can't.

'The Conduit'

Lewis jokes that, as the new treasurer of the Graphic Medicine International Collective, the organization's finances are in safe hands.

"I won't show them my own checkbook, which is a mess," he said. "They won't see Springsteen charges or merch on there."

The joke lands because Springsteen isn't simply Lewis' favorite musician. He's a kindred spirit. Both men return, again and again, to the same question: How do ordinary people hold onto hope and dreams when life doesn't go according to plan?

Lewis had to answer that question himself.

He first proposed “Body, Soul, and Comics” before the pandemic. Then COVID-19 hit. His marriage ended. Family health issues emerged. His career shifted. Rather than rush the manuscript, his publisher encouraged him to finish it when he was ready.

Around that time, “Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse” introduced audiences to Peter B. Parker, the older, divorced, slightly out-of-shape Spider-Man trying to put his life back together.

Lewis knew exactly who he'd be for Halloween.

"I totally related to Peter B. Parker," he said. "Still trying to be a hero in my kids' lives or trying to be a hero in the classroom while I'm an absolute wreck."

Lewis looks back and thinks that season shaped the book. “I think it made me a little bit more vulnerable.”

It changed the way he teaches, too.

Early in his career, he tried to sound like the expert. Now he’d rather be the guide.

“I like not being the expert,” he said. “I like being the conduit. I love introducing students to all this so they can go further.”

As Health Humanities director, Lewis gets his students ready not just for technical work; they need curiosity, strong communication, and real compassion.

“I see students now who are way more tuned in to how important community, authenticity, and sincerity are in medicine,” Lewis said.

The same hope weaves quietly through “Body, Soul, and Comics,” hiding in Springsteen song titles and echoing through stories of illness, resilience, and grace. “If readers remember one thing from the book,” Lewis said, “I hope it’s this: we’re all doing our best as humans.”