I Can See Your House From Here - Archives
vol 2 number 11
In an industry filled with cynicism and jaded reaction, where do I fit in?
Oh, yeah. Right. Sorry about that - I just forgot who I was for a second there.
The funniest thing about the comic book industry is the people that drive it. Comic books, at least at the core, are supposed to be an escape, much like an action movie or heavy metal music. The reader is allowed - encouraged, even - to vicariously be all that he can be (I would say she, too, but the female population of Comic Readers World is ridiculously low). While reading the latest issue of Superman or Captain America, he is transported to a world where the good guy gets the last punch, and the beautiful girls never fall for the bad guys. It is, to borrow a phrase or two from Mark Alessi of Crossgen Comics, a place where might makes right and good triumphs over evil.
This isn't attractive to everyone - I know this. It's something that took me a long time to become comfortable telling people, that I was a comic reader, a collector, a fan. I don't even bother to point out the comics that defy the stereotype of superheroes any more; before you even have a chance to tell them about MAUS or STRANGERS IN PARADISE or LOVE AND ROCKETS or WATCHMEN, your audience has already written you off as permanently damaged, emotionally or intellectually stunted, stuck in adolescence.
Not to say that none of that is true of me, admittedly, but the comics are coincidence.
I got my first comics in the summer of 1977, while in the hospital. I had fractured my skull on the playground of a Burger King - please, hold the comments that I've heard a million times before - and while I was in the hospital, I got comic books to read. Only two titles stick with me (The Uncanny X-Men and Green Lantern/Green Arrow), but I had the bug, and have kept it ever since. Comics were my escape from the world that picked on me, and by the time I grew past getting bullied, around high school, the addiction ran too deep.
So now here I am, nearly thirty, reasonably well adjusted, with a good education, a beautiful wife, success in a lot of areas, and I still read comics. Of course, I still have a thing for late-'80s era metal and the WWF, too. Go figure.
Oh, sure - tell me you wouldn't be entertained to see me break from a discussion on the underlying themes in Camus to chant along with The Rock. You know you'd smile.
Picture the typical comic reader in your head. I'm not going to bother describing him to you; we both know what he looks like. A little too heavy or a little too thin, stringy hair or maybe prematurely balding, braces or a stutter, definitely the runt of the litter. Problems at school, problems at home - either way, he's looking at a long life of social maladaptation. It's not hard to see why he likes comics, is it? He can, for ten minutes at a time, fly or lift mountains or read minds. He has, thanks to the writers and artists, all power and glory that he will likely never experience in life.
Maybe that outlook explains a lot, though. Even if you're one of the lucky ones, and you manage to grow out of the geeky thing, that sort of life as a kid shapes your attitudes and reactions forever, right? Most of the guys that I grew up with went on to become either successful and popular but bitter towards the Beautiful People or remained nerds, no longer wanting to be one of the Beautiful People because they were too bitter towards them. Well, there is the one guy who joined the Army and now brags about his body count in the Persian Gulf, but he was always a little touched.
If you want to see this bitterness in action, you don't have to look very hard ("You're soaking in it!"). Message boards are a good place to look, for instance. When Michael Jackson announced last week that he was putting together a tribute single for charity a la "We Are the World," you would imagine that people would think well of his philanthropy. After all, when Marvel announced that it was putting out a book specifically geared to raising money for the Widow's and Children's Fund of the New York Police Department, Widow's and Children's Fund of the New York Fire Department, and the American Red Cross, even the strident Marvel haters oohed and aahed at the move. The reaction to Michael's announcement? "Why don't the musicians just donate their money?" "It'll never sell." "Just what we need - another cheesy pop song."
Wait - but… I….
I realize that most of the musicians have more money than comic writers and artists will see in a lifetime. I know that Michael is quite possibly trying to save his career at this point. But aren't the two projects equally valid, in an effort to help the victims of a tragedy?
Hey, if reading Internet message forums is too tedious for you - and I don't blame you for saying so at all - just head down to your local comic store and mention Marvel in the presence of a group of fanboys (you can say you're there to get a birthday present for your kid brother if anyone asks). As a little background for those of you outside looking in, Marvel is one of the two biggest, most established comic companies, owners of Spider-Man, the Hulk, and the X-Men. They've also struggled, financially, for the past few years (much like the rest of the industry), and have recently seen a revitalized period.
A few weeks ago, they made it very public that a printer in Alabama stopped the presses on the debut issue of Alias, the book that was kicking off their new adult line. Luckily, they managed to get the book to another printer, and it met the target release date. Then last week, it was announced that one of their titles had been reprinted after the initial run but before the book ever went on sale. It seems that the editorial staff had failed to spot one of the female hero's 'assets' prominently on display in the artwork; only after the book was printed was the error caught, and the book was ordered pulped, replaced by a corrected version in time for stores to get the book.
This sort of thing is far from common, but not unheard of. However, what is odd is that the Editor in Chief and President of Marvel were not, apparently, that bothered by the extra skin, as they saved three thousand copies to be put on sale at premium prices (that's upwards of $20 for those of you that don't follow the market). Sounds like a fair way to make up the cost of a 70,000 book print run that was to be destroyed, right?
Not according to the fanboy gathering at Captain Comics. It was market manipulation, free press for Marvel, a desperate ploy to steal money from the readers who would pay upwards of twenty dollars for one panel of a naked woman. A penciled naked woman, at that - and believe me, there's a lot of fanboys that would buy that. The Alias incident was just scripted, a way for Marvel to get sympathy at the expense of a backwards state.
So who's to be believed? I think my answer probably echoes yours: who cares? Either way, more attention gets drawn to Marvel; everyone wants to see if the interracial love scene was really that big of a deal (it wasn't) or what Elektra looks like in her birthday suit (like a naked cartoon girl). The poor fanboys don't realize that they've fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker. Whether they buy the book or not, they're talking about it, spreading the word, creating buzz (and as the 2 Live Crew can attest, negative buzz serves to boost sales better than none at all).
I'll grant you that society as a whole has become gradually more jaded; the incidents drawn above are apt to generate similar reactions across society, not just the comic field. With things like the 2000 Presidential election, terrorist bombings on our own soil, and the maddening success of Harry Potter, I suppose I can see why. It digs at me, though, that the misanthropic writings of Florence King and H. L. Mencken are losing their joy for me. Nowadays it seems like everyone's a cynic, and as the Society for People Who Hate People gets larger and larger, as the critical voice of the proletariat gets louder and louder, I want less and less to hear it.
Oh, well. I can always turn to my comics. Are you sure you don't want to join me?