Grim-and-gritty is officially old and boring

This had started out as a longer, probably much more convoluted post about Mark Millar, the cult of personality that seems to have sprung up around certain comic book writers, and the apparent addiction to gore and ultra-violence that both Marvel and DC have been guilty of, but instead I'll boil it down to a simple question that I put to you, my Internet Pals:

Are people finally getting tired of it all?

I ask because I've been sensing some push-back recently, and I'm not sure if I'm actually detecting a ripple in the Force or if it's just wishful thinking. In either case, here are some things to consider:

Kick-Ass, which was hyped so hard people back in the 1920s have probably heard about it, just kind of petered out this weekend when it opened nationally. Sure, it was No. 1, but by just barely bringing in $19.8 million compared to How to Train Your Dragon's $19.6 mil. (a kid's movie that was already in its fourth week).

No doubt the hardcore Millar fans were lined up, but what about the rest of the geek chorus? Did they reject the movie the way some have been rejecting it and the comic online lately? Or is just a matter of little name-recognition and mainstream audiences being gun-shy (heh) about a movie riding mostly on its more interesting supporting character, an 11-year-old girl who curses a lot and is a ninja?

The other thing that caught my attention was the first few pages of Brightest Day #0, the kick-off to what DC promises is a shiny and new direction spanning the publisher's superhero line. A direction apparently best expressed by showing a baby bird falling from a tree, bloodily cracking itself open on a headstone and then laying crumpled on the ground, dead.

Marvel is also trumpeting the launch of the very similar Heroic Age event, noise that sounds tinny considering Millar, Brian Michael Bendis and Jeph Loeb have spent years upping the body count for the publisher while sealing it in a slick veneer of "coolz." (I feel I have to point out, as so many have before, that Loeb was responsible for the "Blob cannibalizing Wasp, like, RIGHT THERE" scene in his Ultimatum series.)

Both companies say they're paving the way to a lighter tone in their books and moving away from the grim-and-gritty aesthetic that keeps getting grimmer and grittier. And I have to wonder — are the Big Two full of shit?


Because I don't see it. And I'm curious whether other people are missing it, too, and if there is some kind of grit-fatigue setting in, like a comic book readers' version of Seasonal Affective Disorder. It bothers me because it's gotten ... stupid. And distracting. And, worst of all, boring. Bo-ring. Both publishers has created a system and style that encourages big, flashy set pieces tied together with the flimsiest of dialogue and piecemeal plot points at the expense of, y'know, a story.

(I know this isn't true of every single title either company puts out — both produce comics I love, but let's stick to generalities for the sake of this discussion.)

Now that the Big Two are promising to do things differently, how will readers react if they don't? It wouldn't be the first time either one has promised more than they delivered, but I wonder if there's more at stake this time. I kind of doubt it — fanboys have short memories and a limitless ability to gripe-and-forgive. But, man, I'd sure like to believe it.

As corny as it sounds, maybe it's time for Marvel and DC to have a little less shock and awe, and a little more aw, shucks in their comics.

MOOOOON ... child?!

Generally speaking, I don't think anyone cares what I'm having for lunch.

So when I'm updating my status on Facebook (clicky-clicky over on the right if you want to be Internet pals), I crib film quotes on a regular basis. Usually they're taken from pop culture icons, obscure B-movies or geek movie touchstones. And normally at least one or two people know what the hell I'm talking about and play along.

Now that I've set the scene, I should tell you the movie I was talking about this time was The Neverending Story.

There was some brief back-and-forth online, and then it was picked up again yesterday at the comic book shop.

"Hey," my friend asked when I walked in, "was the princess' name really 'Moonchild'? Where'd you get that from?"

Yup, I said, that was actually her name; I couldn't remember when I'd figured that out, but it was one of those things rattling around in my melon, like AT-ATs and the Penny Plunderer.

But the seed was planted. Was that her name? Did Wikipedia and IMDb lie to me? They've been know to do it before, the dirty bastards. I've always thought it was Moonchild, but maybe I'd just told myself that for so long that I believed it. And really, "Moonchild?" Even coming from a kid it seems a little silly-pants.

So what do you think? Take a look at this clip and tell me — what the heck is Bastian screaming into the night?



And while we're at it — what kind of name is Bastian?!

Why the Marvel calendar's days are numbered

In daily life, my nerdiness is pretty evident.

This is especially true at work. Green Lantern pins are piled up at the feet of a Monitor figure like aluminum tribute. Spider-Man sits on top of Yoda's oversized head beneath my completed Human Fly checklist. And on my wall is the new Marvel calendar, which is really kind of nice for a freebie.

And which will be coming down again in February because I don't want to get written up.

The place where I work is informal for an office setting and I'm certainly not a prude, but the image of Ms. Marvel that is waiting to slide out from between January and March just won't fly. It is, in the language of management-types the world over, “inappropriate for the office.”

And that's a shame, because I like to think of myself as an evangelist for comics. I preach the four-color Word to anyone who'll listen. But how do I justify a Ms. Marvel who looks more like Ms. February? How do I explain that this woman who is floating on her back, arms splayed in welcome and with a sleepy, lips-parted-just-so look on her face, is a superhero? A superhero who apparently fights evil in a thong and half-shirt?

There's a thin line between sensual and sexual, between sexuality and sexualized. When I was flipping through the calendar (given away free last week at comic book stores), I had a sudden urge to apologize to someone, to explain that Ms. Marvel is generally a strong character. That she served as an officer in the Air Force. That this is a depiction of her original costume, with a misguided design reflecting her mid-70s roots.

But mostly I keep thinking, “The women in my office — especially my boss — would have a shit if I put this up.” And rightfully so.

Besides the blatant sexism, I'm also bugged by the apparent pandering of Marvel to the stereotypical, drooling fanboy mentality. The only other female character to make the calendar is March's Marvel Girl, who fares a little better than Ms. Marvel but still looks as if she's re-enacting the subway grate scene from The Seven Year Itch. (By the way, Jean, nice rack.) To be fair, Sub-Mariner is wearing even less than either of the Marvels in September, but I'd argue that his depiction lacks the sense of vulnerability of the other two. Again, there may be sexuality, but Sub-Mariner is not sexualized.

(And for the record, Wolverine's November picture made my wife laugh and laugh. You can come to your own conclusions why.)

There is always talk about how superhero comics need to grow up, or that they already have by upping the body counts and spraying blood across everything in the scene. But that's not growing up; that's what kids think growing up means. Growing up means maturity. And when I can't put a freely distributed superhero calendar up in my office for a month because it comes across as sexist stroke material, that tells me the industry still has some growing up to do.

Some random thoughts about comics, and the greatest thing you'll see this week

Over on its blog The Source, DC just announced writer James Robinson and artist Mark Bagley will be taking over as the creative team for Justice League of America in October. I think that's good news; I've been enjoying Robinson's work on Superman, and of course he's the author of an amazing run on Starman, so I've got my fingers crossed that he'll be doing something interesting with the JLA.

I do feel a little bad for current JLA writer Dwayne McDuffie, though. He just found out he was getting the boot a few weeks ago, and even though he's apparently been less than happy during his tenure it still seems he had some ideas he wanted to explore. That said, I haven't read a JLA book in a long time, including McDuffie's. Maybe a change will do the title some good.

Personally, it'd be great to read Justice League again. I miss the chemistry of a team book, and I was always more a JLA man than an Avenger's guy. As a matter of fact, let's make that a poll! And let's keep it simple: JLA or Avengers, who ya got? Vote for your favorite in the sidebar, and be sure to stump for your team in the comments.

•••

As long as you're answering questions, let me ask another: Have your buying habits changed?

This week, between the special issues and newly higher-priced titles, I definitely had to be more choosy about what I picked up. As a matter of fact, I had to leave a couple of books behind because it didn't fit into my weekly budget (keep in mind it's fairly modest compared to some). I'll still be picking them up sometime in the future, but that's when — and if — it fits into the expense account. Is anyone else feeling the effects of higher cover prices?

•••

Speaking of this week's comics — was the wrap-up for Mysterius The Unfathomable awesome or what? Sure, it was slightly unfathomable itself thanks to a lot of threads that had to be stitched together all at once, but it's nothing a quick re-read of past issues won't fix. And in any case, this is a series worth re-reading anyway. If you weren't getting this in single issues (shame on you), be sure to get it when it comes out in trade — it's great work from Jeff Parker and Tom Fowler, whose artwork I want to make sweet, sweet love to.

•••

And now, as promised, the greatest thing you'll see this week:


Panel from Captain America #600 (originally published in Captain America Comics #16)
Stan Lee, writer; Al Alvison, artist

One shop, two worlds

It may surprise you to learn this, but I'm a huge nerd.

My love for comics might be the most obvious evidence, but my capacity for nerdity knows no bounds so I'm a pretty active gamer, too. And when I say "gamer" I don't mean the semi-cool console gaming. Oh, no. I'm talking about the old-school paper-and-pencil, character sheet-filling, buying yet another set of funny looking dice kind of gaming.

(And 'cause I can tell you're dying to know; a half-orc warden, thank you very much.)

There have been a few superhero role-playing games that have floated around, and I wish I could've played this one:


Doesn't that look awesome, in a kinda cheesy way?

But coming across this ad reminded me of something I noticed while working at a comic shop a few years ago. The shop was equal parts comics and gaming supplies, complete with dice, miniatures and sourcebooks for a ton of RPGs, as well as comics, trades and manga. It was like heaven ... siiiigggh ...

Ahem. Anyway. After a while something was obvious; the gamers had no time for the comic book geeks, and the comic readers sneered at the gamers. It was a Cold Geek War, with both factions tolerating each other but rarely interacting. Depending on what side of the store you were on determined what kind of snotty remarks you would hear. You would think two groups whose hobbies are based largely on imagination and over-the-top adventures would be like blood brothers — especially considering all the comics based on games available — but that wasn't usually the case.

What made this weirder was the fact that most of the employees read comics and gamed, and did both fanatically. Personally, I could never understand the riff and scorned both equally (I kid because I love!).

Has anyone else ever experienced this? Was it some sort of goofy peer pressure, with Ponyboy peering over the racks and sharing meaningful looks with Cherry Valance over in miniatures? Was it all my imagination? And how many of you fellow comic book readers are also gamers?

This and that: Pull lists, FCBD and a shrinking Marvel?

It's been one of those days, so let's bullet list this sucker:

Today, of course, is new comics day and I'll be picking up a batch made up of books I'm looking forward to and at least one I'm a little wary about.

Kull #6 and Agents of Atlas #4 are sure to make me happy — Kull is my favorite of Dark Horse's R.E. Howard adaptations and Agents of Atlas is always intelligent and fun — and Seaguy: The Slaves of Mickey Eye #2 is pure distilled Grant Morrison (make of that what you will). Superman: World of New Krypton has been surprisingly solid, and I'm curious to see what's going to develop in issue #3. And I never miss an issue of Atomic Robo; Atomic Robo and The Shadow from Beyond Time #1 will be no exception.

The wild card will be Flash: Rebirth #2. I was enthusiastic about this title (and the return of Silver Age Flash Barry Allen) when it was announced, but the first issue went a long way toward deflating that. Will things turn a corner in the second issue? I hope so, and writer Geoff Johns' characterization of Barry in the recent Blackest Night #0 gives me a reason to think this title just needs to find its groove before it becomes as good a book as it should be.

There are a few other titles I'm on the fence about (Final Crisis Aftermath: Run! #1, Fin Fang Four Return #1, New Mutants #1), but I'd really recommend Alias: The Ultimate Collection Vol. 1 — that's some sweet mashing up of the superhero and noir genres right there, from a time when Brian Michael Bendis could concentrate on telling a good story instead of trying to write almost every Marvel title on the racks.

•••

New comics are going to have to fight it out with the slightly less new stack of awesome I grabbed during Free Comic Book Day, though. My local comic shop (the always great Austin Books and Comics) has a good system set up, allowing customers to select 10 comics from the — as far as I can tell — complete catalog of this year's titles. Since my wife vowed to love, honor and be my partner-in-crime, I went home with a total of 20 comics (aah, don't belly-ache, she's interested in some of them, too ... sorta).

The whole thing went very smoothly, even with a steady crowd and the added degree of difficulty of a tent set up in the parking lot, and I was in and out in about five minutes. I actually spent more time browsing in the store later — which is part of the point, right? Friendly employees, an inviting interior (hellooo, remodeling!) and what always seems to be an obvious love for the product they sell makes visiting my LCS a pleasure, even during a crazy event like FCBD.

•••

Speaking of the FCBD offerings, what's up with the smaller size of the Marvel comics? Making a rough guess, I'd estimate the books lost about a quarter of its trim size. Take a look:


(Sorry about the crappy quality - I took this on the fly.)

I've seen a rumor that this was Marvel's way of testing a smaller print size, which would be a money-saving move (newspapers have been doing the same thing for years). Personally, it doesn't bother me. I noticed the difference in size when I picked up the books, but that disappeared once I started reading. Really, nothing is lost with the smaller size (granted, there may not be as much room for detail, but for the most part paying attention to panel size should take care of that).

I don't see a problem if Marvel wants to print its books in a format somewhere between the average size and a digest — BUT that's only if the price per issue stays at (or in some cases, returns to) $2.99 or the page count is increased, similar to what DC is doing with its back-up stories.

What do you think? Does size matter? And what was your Free Comic Book Day like this year? Let me know in the comments.

Who will be back in 'Black?'

Free Comic Book Day is next week, and DC has been ramping up the PR machine by releasing some splash pages from Blackest Night #0. I'm fairly burned out on big "event" series and crossovers from both DC and Marvel, but the Green Lantern fan in me can't help but look forward to the big galactic Rainbow War that's being promised. Whether that promise is met or not is a whole other discussion, but for now I'll keep my fingers crossed.

Of course, one of the biggest questions revolves around the Black Lanterns, the so-called "Zombie Lanterns" led by Black Hand and a renegade Guardian whose mascara keeps running. Any character that is currently "dead" in the DCU is a potential Death Lantern, so there's been plenty of debate about just who will come crawling out of the grave. Aquaman looks like a sure bet, but there are still numerous candidates to choose from and this Doug Mahnke page (man, what a great artist) offers some clues.


I recognize Aquaman's glove there in the middle and ... nobody else. Many of the designs are right on the edge of my memory, but I can't put a finger on any. Like that blue and red cuff at the mid-right? I know I know that design, but my brain won't tell me. And I think the knitted blue sleeve directly opposite is supposed to be Earth-2 Superman, but I'm not sure.

Recognize (or think you recognize) any of the soon-to-be Black Lanterns sprouting from the earth? Give me your guess in the comments.

How Aunt Lily taught me to love The Human Fly

I bought 10 issues of The Human Fly yesterday, and my Aunt Lily is to blame.

When I was just a little Maxo back in 1970s-El Paso, my parents would often drive downtown to pay the utility bills. Back then you could go in person to an office that would keep the water and electricity flowing, and since the short drive seemed exotic and adventurous at the time I'd usually volunteer to go along.

But I had an ulterior motive.

I didn't really want to spend an afternoon standing in various city-sponsored lines. Almost as soon as my parents mentioned a trip Downtown, I'd start pleading with them to leave me at the main library branch or at my Aunt Lily's used bookstore — knowing full well they wouldn't leave a niño on his own to navigate a cavernous library and its potential for stranger-danger. The idea of a bored and increasingly whiny kid didn't appeal to them, either, so Aunt Lily's it was.

Martin's Bookstore was named after my uncle, who ran the shop with my aunt until he passed away and she took her now-longstanding post behind the register. This is how I always think of her — perched on a stool, greeting customers with a brusque-sounding French accent that has never really faded after years in Spanish-heavy El Paso (Aunt Lily was a war-bride, marrying my Tío Martín after they met during World War II).

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't intimidated by her, even though she was always patient and generous. She didn't appreciate a lot of noise, and she made sure her books weren't being manhandled to the point they couldn't be resold. It was usually so quiet in there that when my sister came along we'd whisper, tiptoeing down the aisles of the rambling store as if we were hapless Greeks trying to sidestep the Minotaur.

Now, of course, I realize probably none of this was lost on her. But she'd let us play our games, only shushing us when we'd get too rowdy. More often I'd wander around the store for hours, picking things off the shelf and sitting cross-legged in a hidden corner, wrapped in silence and the musty smell of old books.

I don't remember when exactly it happened, but it was one of those seemingly endless afternoons when my love of comics would be sparked.

What I do remember is being plunked down at a small table in a back room, the same table where Aunt Lily would have lunch after closing the shop for maybe 20 minutes. She pulled a box from off a nearby shelf and put it on a chair next to me; the box was filled with comics.

From that time on, if I was in the bookstore I was reading comics. The Unknown Soldier. The Human Target. Justice League of America. Spider-Man. Superman, Batman and The Flash. Tomb of Dracula. House of Secrets and House of Mystery.

And, of course, The Human Fly.

Needless to say, I was hooked. Aunt Lily had a collection spanning the Silver and just-beginning Bronze ages, and for better or worse those would be the comics that would inform my basis for loving comics. And it's why finding a stash of The Human Fly slapped a stupid grin on my face and sent me reaching for my wallet; suddenly I was back at that back room table, a plate of cookies and a glass of Kool-Aid nearby, diving headlong into a world I would never completely leave.

It wasn't until years later I realized there was a reason those comics were in boxes and out of sight. Unlike the magazines she had in spinner racks throughout the store, these weren't meant for the random patron. These were books she was saving, books she was preserving for collectors and possible future sales. And she was letting her eight-year-old great-nephew paw his way through each and every one of the hundreds tucked safely away.

She still owns the bookstore, still perches on a stool behind the register. I make sure to visit her whenever I'm in town, and the last time I was there I made a point of thanking her — for everything, but particularly for introducing me to comics. She rolled her eyes and reminded me to pick a book off the shelf — something to take with me before I left.


How did you begin reading comics? Did you discover them yourself, or did someone introduce you to the medium? Were you a kid, or did you come across comics as an adult? Share your story in the comments!

Rebirth: New life for the old Flash could be good for everyone

When Flash: Rebirth #1 is released tomorrow, it will be something of a family reunion for me.

Like most comic book geeks, I have "my" versions of legacy superheroes, and in the case of the Flash, Barry Allen is mine. Barry Allen — square, straight-arrow, "boring" ol' Barry — is the first Flash I experienced. He was the one I grew up with. The one I pretended to be when I'd try to snatch something out of the air before it could hit the ground.

But this doesn't mean I don't have any room in my personal Flash Museum for Wally West and Jay Garrick (though I could never warm up to Bart Allen). When Barry sacrificed himself in Crisis on Infinite Earths to save the universe ... well, it made sense. It was exactly the sort of thing the character would do, and it also made perfect sense that Wally — who had been Barry's protégé as Kid Flash — would carry on in his fallen mentor's place.

I especially appreciated the way Wally was distinct from Barry, rather than just a carboard plug-in used to fill a suddenly empty speedster slot. Where Barry was the classic selfless hero, Wally was usually just fun — and more than even Barry, Wally seemed to cement the idea of a Flash Family.

I'm hoping Wally doesn't suddenly become marginalized by Barry's return — but as a fan, I'm willing to risk it. Does that make me a typical fanboy? I hope not. But I can't deny I'm excited to see what Geoff Johns does with the resurrection of the Silver Age Flash, particularly since I thought he already pulled off the impossible by bringing back Hal Jordan as Green Lantern (again, my GL).

Which brings me to what I would most like to see in the Flash reboot; more Flashes. When Johns brought Hal back from the hell that was the Spectre storyline, he didn't suddenly jettison Guy Gardner, John Stewart and Kyle Rayner. If anything, he helped further define those characters, and then expanded on the whole GL Corps concept. I don't see why something similar can't be done for the Flash Family. Ever since Barry met Jay, there really hasn't been just one Flash in the DCU — why should there only be two?

It may not be obvious, but I'm not one of those comic book fans who thinks things were better back in the day. As I said, Barry's death made sense and I was perfectly content to let him stay dead. And if it was almost any other writer than Johns, I'd most likely be a lot more suspect than enthusiastic.

But as it is, I'll be happy to welcome back Barry Allen tomorrow — as long as it doesn't mean saying good-bye to anyone else calling themselves the Flash, too.

What do you think of Barry Allen's revival? Let me know in the comments, and be sure to vote for your Flash in the sidebar poll. And while you're at it, take a look at Ron Richards' "6 Questions That Flash: Rebirth Needs to Answer" at iFanboy for some interesting thoughts on the Scarlet Speedster's return.

What's at the top of the comic book mountain?

So the other day I received an e-mail that was both hellish and irresistible, like chocolate-covered crack delivered straight to the inbox.

Steve of I Was Ben had a question: Considering all the talk going around about Watchmen being the apex of the medium, what do you think is the pinnacle of the comic book form?

On its face, it's a straight-forward question. But in the depths of my geeky soul (and, I'm assuming, yours now), the torture began. Lists were made and discarded, foreheads were slapped whenever another title was remembered, and second-guessing ran rampant. Almost like asking a parent to choose their favorite child, or to decide between Coke or Pepsi (Mr. Pibb, duh), this was — as even Adrian Veidt might put it — "a toughie."

What was my answer (besides vaguely ambiguous)? Go check out Steve's post at I Was Ben to find out, as well as to get the thoughtful opinions of our pal The Fortress Keeper and Teresa of In Sequence. While you're at it, leave your own picks in the I Was Ben comments; I think we'd all be interested to hear some more points of view.

Speaking of which, you should also take a look at blog-buddy Kevin Church's recent post on good comics for new readers — there isn't a stinker in the bunch, and there are some solid suggestions in the comments, too (Vimanarama! God, I love that one!)

Now give it some thought, and let's hear it!

The return of Staple! and other items of interest (plus a question!)

I don't go to a lot of comic book conventions, but Staple! is one I try hard not to miss.

Staple! is an expo for independently produced comics and other self-published literature, art and any other creative endeavor that fits the vibe of a hip mini-con, here in Austin, Texas. I have an unnatural love for Staple!, and though I've said it before, it really does get bigger and better with each year.

This year is the fifth for the expo, and the organizers have some pretty exciting guests lined up. At the top of the bill is Stan Sakai, legendary creator of Usagi Yojimbo (and this year's Staplegator logo). If I can keep from going into a fanboy coma, I'm really looking forward to meeting him. He'll also be joined by Chris Onstad (of Achewood fame) and Jeffrey Brown (Incredible Change-Bots and other great comics) — not to mention a host of other guests and vendors. You can get the latest information on guests and programming at the Web site.

If you're anywhere near the Austin area, I recommend carving out a couple of hours to take in what's ultimately a very cool meeting of the comic book-minded.

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Speaking of very cool, the Staple! podcasts are being taken care of by the guys over at Dial-A-Stranger, which is itself one of my favorite regular podcasts. The concept is simple; people e-mail or call in with queries on ... well, anything ... and then hosts Mercedes and Zach randomly call someone from a list of other people who have volunteered to take a question.

It sounds simple and it is, but the interaction between the hosts and the person on the other end of the line is frequently hilarious and often poignant.

It's also well worth a listen.

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So, Scans-Daily was shut down, huh? I only went to the site a few times — usually when someone else's blog linked to it — so I can't pretend to know too much about it. But I do know that a lot of the people who populated S_D tended to skirt the definition of Fair Use and made a lot of noise, both about how creators didn't know how to use their own characters and about how the posters had some sort of right to do whatever they wanted with someone else's work.

Let me say right off that I'm a big free speech and fair use guy. But that doesn't mean that anything created by anyone else is mine to use as I will. It's illegal and it's disprespectful to the creator. And to not only post almost complete (and in some cases, entirely complete) issues online AND THEN crow about it ... well, that just isn't very smart and you deserved to get shut down. No amount of hand-wringing, cries of man-hate (I didn't even realize S_D was supposed to be a "female space" until recently) or claims of comic book evangelism will change that.

Lisa Fortuner and Andrew Weiss have very good points to make about the whole thing, so go check it out. For myself, I'm sorry people will miss their sense of community, but I'm not sorry to see Scans_Daily go. I tend to avoid message boards and the like because they always seem to end up making me depressed and angry; we'll see how long the mods can keep some of the more interesting new boards to pop up in S_D's place from spinning out of control.

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You may have noticed (or not — what am I, a mind-reader?) that there were some strange goings-on here at the blog yesterday. Blogger has been giving me more and more trouble lately, so I ask you, Internet: Is it time to switch to Wordpress? Tell me, Internet, tell me!!

All right, everybody - suit up!

I don't know if this has made the rounds yet, but it's the first I've seen of it: the New York Daily News has a fun little compare-and-contrast photo feature up at their Web site comparing TV and movie depictions of superheroes to the original comic book designs.

They cheat a little bit by using multiple characters from the same movie (there's plenty of Watchmen and Spider-Man here), but the indie folks aren't left totally out in the cold, either. It's not complete (insert fanboy whine here), but it's still impressively in-depth, from the cool ...


to the omigodmakeitstop ...


What do you think? What are some of your favorite — or most hated — character costumes to hit the screen? Any love for the TV version of Flash? Let me know in the comments!

Geek check: So, uh ... what're you wearing?

So far today, two people have pointed at me and said, "Hey, Green Lantern!"

The company I work for is pretty casual, and jeans and a T-shirt is the top of the dress code for most of the employees, myself included. Today that includes a Green Lantern shirt.

The funny thing is, this shirt brings that reaction in people a lot. I don't know if it's because people are familiar with the John Stewart character thanks to the JLA cartoons, if an older (*ahem*) generation remembers Hal from the Super Friends or what, but most people seem to recognize this green and white symbol.

The cool thing? Everybody who points it out is smiling.

This shirt has prompted more random conversations than I can think of, with the exception of the Aquaman T-shirt, but that was annoying at first because everyone seemed to think it was an Entourage reference instead of, y'know, an Aquaman reference.

Is it a Green Lantern thing? Leftover goodwill from Iron Man and The Dark Knight? Personally, I like to think it's mostly a fun thing — and people like to have fun, even if it's just in a brief moment of recognition, whether you're a comic fan or not.

I think it's also part of the whole Rise of the Geek thing , though we'll see how long that lasts. But for now, a comic book T-shirt may not make you cool, but it's not going to get you ostracized, either. And in some cases, it may even get you a wave and a smile from a stranger.

So what about you? Are you proudly wearing your superhero T-shirts to work? Putting your laptop in a manga themed messenger bag? Or do you have a comic character dangling from your keychain? Let your comic geek flag fly in the comments!

Comics get love from the Louvre

In the whole "comics as art" debate, someone will usually throw in the idea that comics get more respect in countries that aren't the United States. And for the most part they're right, with other countries embracing comics in a wide range of genres aimed at a variety of age groups without the stigma we seem to hold onto here in the States.

We're getting better about it, though, and in spite of the reputation other countries have for acknowledging comics as a legitimate literary art form, it's still big news when one of the most respected museums in the world has an exhibit dedicated to them.

That's why I was happy to read about the Louvre exhibit, appropriately titled "Small Design: The Louvre Invites Comic Strip Art," which opened today. The show will include the work of five artists, with the Louvre used as the setting for each. I realize it doesn't do you much good unless you live in Paris, but I thought it was nice to see comics finding their way into one of the world's top museums (even if the curator seems to waffle between approval and dismissal — what's up with that, M. Douar?).

Like most comic fans, I've seen comic book work displayed in shops and even some galleries, but I don't think I've ever personally seen it done in an established art museum. Has anyone out there seen comics get their due from a major museum? Share your story in the comments!

Like 'A Christmas Carol,' but with Hulks

So I get back from my trip and come across this:

"The holiday season is here and what better way to celebrate it than with the Incredible Hulk and Rampaging Rulk? Marvel is proud to unveil both Hulk #9 Santa Hulk Variant covers, illustrated by superstar artist Ed McGuinness, so you can celebrate with the stars of 2008’s hottest ongoing series! Written by Eisner-Winning, Emmy-Winning scribe Jeph Loeb and with art by superstars Frank Cho and Art Adams, including 50/50 variant covers from each artist, you get two incredible stories—one starring Rulk and another starring… WENDIHULK!? (or is it HULKDIGO!?)"

Congratulations, Marvel: I officially want to punch you in the balls. I know you've been calling the Red Hulk "Rulk," but you're actually planning to go with that? Seriously? I don't necessarily expect high literature from my Hulk comics, but "Rulk?!" (I just noticed the stocking — argh!)

And is it just me, or does it seem as if we're reaching a tipping point on the variant covers thing? Have we learned nothing? Am I going to end up on a beach shaking my fist at a giant statue of Ripclaw?!

... Hulkdigo ... eesh ...

End of the line for Minx

CBR broke the news yesterday that DC is killing the Minx line, and I can't say I'm surprised.

Minx, a young adult imprint geared primarily toward teenage girls, never really seemed to find its footing and failed to build up any kind of real momentum. I won't pretend to have a full understanding of all the nuances — marketing, the vagaries of book store placement or final sale numbers — but I feel comfortable saying this: From the few titles I read, and judging by the various reviews I digested, the Minx books just weren't very good.

Again, I didn't read a whole lot of the Minx books. Mostly it was because the story outlines didn't interest me (and to be fair, they weren't really done with a late-30s dude in mind) or I lost interest once I read lukewarm reviews. And the ones I did read were just ... OK. Ish.

Was it a matter of hype? Were expectations set too high? I don't think so. Any new imprint, particularly from the Big Two, is going to get a huge marketing push, with plenty of noise and glitter. Whether or not they make it, though, is primarily up to the consumer.

(That's ignoring the seemingly growing, movie industry-like tendency to cut a title if it's not an instant bestseller — but that's a whole other discussion.)

In general, Minx looked as if it had its collective head in the right place, with a range of writers and artists (some of whom already had YA credentials) and story ideas that were broad and varied. The problem often was how those ideas were executed; blandly.

I don't know where the inertia came from, but I know it was there and almost from the beginning. When the Minx line launched I was still working at a local comic book shop, and there wasn't much customer interest in it beyond the curiosity surrounding the first releases. I think we did a front-of-store display, and then the books quietly faded into the shelves of the so-called "drama" section. I don't remember any of the employees — a pretty diverse group where reading habits were concerned — being all that excited about the Minx line, even after reading a title or two. Sometimes reading that second book only cemented the initial indifference. I certainly don't remember any customers coming in after the launch and asking specifically for a Minx book.

But I think the Minx line is worth saving — in some form, at least. Some of the stories showed real potential to carry an ongoing series of books, and I'm glad DC is apparently planning to keep publishing at least a few of the Minx titles for now. What I'd like to see the publisher do is bring those books, and any other similar future titles, together under a general Young Adults line, something that will serve the oh-so-coveted group of readers that are too old for Johnny DC and perhaps not ready (or even interested) in the main DC and Vertigo lines — an "indie" line for kids who aren't necessarily children anymore.

A line geared toward girls and boys (which, honestly, I think the Minx books were anyway) who are looking for something other than spandex or the latest profanity-filled Vertigo offering would be appealing. And not just to 'tweens.

Minx was a good idea — I just don't know if it was completely thought out by DC.

Poll: Bends, folds and other comic crimes

If you were to walk through any room in my home and poke around a little bit, it's practically guaranteed that you would find a comic book floating around.

There are literally comics all over my house; hidden in drawers, stacked on shelves and teetering in piles in bathroom cabinets. And except for what I consider concessions to re-readability more than a fanboyish urge for everlasting preservation — not putting them where they can get wet or where one of the cats can get to them — I don't really take very good care of my comics.

Once upon a time I used to bag and board 'em all before stowing them in a longbox, being careful to make sure they were packed well enough to stand up straight but not so tight that they couldn't "breathe." But now longboxes are mostly a way to contain comic-creep. Somewhere along the way the bags-and-boards became just bags, and now my comics run wild and naked like little free-range chickens.

I've always been more of a reader than a collector, but I know this is probably horrifying to some of you out there. And I won't lie — the books tend to get dinged. Sometimes they get outright donged. I feel a little guilty about it sometimes, but I get over it pretty quick. It's always in in the back of my mind that my monthlies will get replaced by trades eventually, and besides, I've got fond memories of reading and treasuring old comics that were worn tissue-thin by being read over and over again. Buying a comic just to hermetically seal it in a plastic slab seems criminal.

Of course if you bend and fold the spine back, I will kill you. Kill you dead.

But that's just me — how do you store your comics? Bags and boards? Slabs? Climate-controlled room or in a steadily curving pile in the magazine rack? Answer the survey, why don'cha, and remember to leave your comments!

Hey, check out my briefs

Between trips out of town and the resulting backlog at work, posting here at GCP has been even spottier than usual — but that doesn't mean I haven't been around! Here are some of the things that have been in the back of my mind recently:

No, I haven't seen it yet. I know, I know — but it hasn't been because of a lack of desire, that's for sure (especially after I saw Church's and Sims' spoiler-free reviews). I tried to see it yesterday, but tickets had already sold out for the next two showings so I'm planning to try again this afternoon. But you know what's the worst part, worse than the anticipation or trying to avoid the inevitable spoilers? Here it is: My mom has already seen The Dark Knight.

My mom.

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Speaking of lame, what's up with Christian Bale? It's never right to assault anybody, but your mother and sister?! I'm hoping — probably foolishly — that the allegations somehow turn out to be false, but we'll have to wait and see. In the meantime, my selfish fanboy soul hopes this doesn't end up reflecting badly on the movie. Stupid Christian Bale.

Edit to Add: Thankfully, the whole thing doesn't seem to be as bad as the media reports first made it sound. Bale denies the allegations, the cops don't seem too stressed about it, and even his mother and sister seem to be downplaying the so-called incident. It's also important to note the definition of "assault" is different in England and in this case basically seems to mean he angrily hollered at people. Under that definition, I'd be considered a repeat offender. All in all, it seems to be no big deal — just the sort of thing that happens within families every Thanksgiving. It actually bothers me more that Fox seems to be the only ones following up on this story.

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Speaking of movies, after seeing the trailer for the Watchmen movie, I'm getting more and more (cautiously) optimistic about the final product. I'm still a little worried about what's going to go into the movie and what's going to have to come out, but as long as the core concepts are included I think it'll turn out alright. So far it looks pretty good, and while Nite Owl is a little more buff than I expected, Dr. Manhattan is damn near perfect.

Also, this picture of the original Minutemen is pretty fantastic:

That's kind of what you would expect costumes in the 40s to look like, right? Sorta homemade and goofy looking. I appreciate that someone is paying attention to little details like that, instead of just going for wall-to-wall "WaTChmEn RUleZ!!"

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So, I haven't read any Spider-Man books regularly for a while now (the clones did it to me), but I might have to pick this one up when it comes out in August just for the Adi Granov cover alone:

Positive reviews keep floating around, so this may be what gets me to finally give the post-Brand New Day Spidey a chance. Or not. We'll have to wait to see if Amazing Spider-Man Family #1 is any good or just a bunch of crap wrapped in a really beautiful cover.

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As I mentioned at the beginning of this ramble, I've been out of town a lot lately and I'll be traveling again late next week (helloooo, Veracruz! Home of some of the best coffee ever as well as soul-crushing humidity).

Of course, that's also the same time the mighty Bahlactus will be hosting the first round of his latest Friday Night Fights bout, so I'm either going to be really, really early with my entry or I'm going to be experimenting with the scheduling function on Blogger. Either way, prepare for potential weirdness! I've been a longtime FNF participant and I've always appreciated how much work Bahlactus obviously puts into it, so I'm not about to miss one now — especially since the Big B hints that this might be the final fight.

If that's the case, I hope you'll join me in a proper salute.

Fiduciary Friday: Nickel and dimed

OK, this isn't really going to become a regular feature, but it is a topic I'll probably come back to once in a while because, just as it does with everything else, money makes the comic book world go 'round.

A few months ago I asked the question, "How is the slipping U.S. economy affecting the way you buy comics?" Most of the respondents (as I remember it — I know I saved it, but for the life of me I can't find my copy of the poll results) said that, so far at least, the economy hadn't had any affect on the amount of money they regularly spent on comics.

When the final results were in, I was a little surprised until I realized my buying habits hadn't really changed either. Sure, I was more aware of how much money I was spending, and there were occasions when I would cut a comic from my weekly pile, but for the most part I tended to spend the same amount of money week after week. Things were just beginning to look shaky on the national economic front, but it wasn't enough to have any real, personal daily impact.

That, as they say, was then. Luckily for my wife and I, our lifestyle hasn't changed dramatically, but it has changed a bit. And if we were aware of expenditures before, brother you better believe we're really aware of them now. Aware enough that I found myself wondering last week, "Hm ... does it make sense to spend this money every week when I could save a little cash by buying trades of the stuff I really, really want instead? Am I just wasting my money?" (You'll notice I didn't consider not buying comics at all — what are you, crazy?) I also know I drop titles that I'm iffy about more quickly now, and I've also cut titles to make room for new ones I'm interested in so I can stay within my spending range.

Like of lot of the poll respondents I've got a weekly budget, and at $15 to $20 I think mine is fairly modest (especially compared to some of the buy-lists I've seen on other blogs that regularly have a couple of dozen books listed, as well as trades, hardcover collections and omnibuses). I also know that if the cover price of a comic was to rise in any significant way (which I think could be a distinct possibility), it would definitely mean less comics would be coming home with me.

And that brings me to my question: How much money do you spend on comics every week? How would a price increase your buying habits? And I'd also like to know how you'd answer a familiar question — has the worsening U.S. economy affected how you buy your comics?

There is a caveat (ain't there always?): I know many of you work in comic book shops or subscribe to a pull, so I'd like to know how much you spend with and without the discount because even a small cut in price can make the difference between picking up a particular comic or not. There will be a couple of polls over on the right, and I'd really like to hear your opinions in the comments.

Continuity and Kool-Aid: Remembering what matters

You can trace my love of comics to a utility bill.

Back in the stone age of the 70s, it was still a normal thing to go to actual buildings downtown to pay for the water, gas and electricity that was pumped to your house the month before. I don't know if my parents ever noticed, but I loved it when it was time to pay the bills because that meant trips to the city's main library and — more often — my aunt's used bookstore.

Obviously, I was the biggest nerd in my neighborhood.

Rather than drag a restless kid around downtown El Paso, my parents realized I could spend entire afternoons happily squirreled away in a corner of the bookstore. And my aunt realized I could probably spend days in that corner if I was given a stack of comics to read.

Fueled by cookies and Kool-Aid and an overactive imagination, I soon became lost. Suddenly my world was filled with exploding planets and radioactive spiders, lassos made of truth and lonely scientists cursed by their inner rage. And I became enamored of characters and concepts that now seem obscure, or at least throwbacks; I ransacked the House of Mystery and House of Secrets, scaled walls and solved crimes with the Human Fly, explored the depths and dangers of the ocean with Stingray, and learned from Sgt. Rock that nothing is ever easy in Easy Company.

Many of the characters I loved then have found new life in reboots (I was thrilled when The Human Target made a reappearance) and black and white collections like DC's Showcase line and Marvel's Essentials. Thanks to these, I've been able to not only revisit half-remembered titles but to also get more background and depth than I ever did by reading random issues at a card table in a back room.

But I've noticed something — I rarely read those collections with the idea of filling in blanks. Mostly I pick one up and read stories at random, which is easy since they come from a time when the done-in-one was the norm. And continuity? Usually anything that references a past story is taken care of with an editor's note, and if not can easily be ignored. Enjoying the story doesn't depend on knowing that Superman threw Luthor's pimento loaf sandwich into the sun that one time.

I started thinking about this after reading Devon's post over at Second Printing, where he talks about his seven-year-old nephew bouncing along the four-color landscape like an astronaut on the Moon, unburdened by the weight of continuity and What Came Before. Devon is so impressed by this that he's decided to keep as open a mind as his nephew.

There's been a lot of talk about continuity surrounding the Big Two for a while, thanks to continued mucking around and reboots and Crises and One More Days. And if something is radically changed from past iterations, people freak out. If something else leans heavily on stories and characters out of the dollar bin, people freak out.

Yes, it can be frustrating. It can be annoying. It can even be insulting. But sometimes —just sometimes — I think we get in our own way. It's easy to take our comics so seriously we forget to enjoy them. Things don't always make sense in comic books, and I'd argue that it's always been that way. We've just forgotten what little difference it used to make.

Before anyone gets the wrong idea: I don't think comics should suddenly become even more of a hodge-podge of concepts and broken story lines than they already are; readers deserve better than that. But does it really matter if Superman doesn't line up with Action? The big concepts should stay the same, but it's too easy to get bogged down in the details. As long as things don't massively and stupidly contradict each other, I'm willing to gloss over that pimento loaf. I don't even care if Luthor skips lunch altogether.

Does this make me a bad comic book reader? Old-school to the point of being out of touch? I don't know. I'm certainly no apologist for bad storytelling. But I'll freely admit that my opinion is fluid — depending on the story, continuity is extremely important. But sometimes it's not. I think it's worthwhile to recognize (and admit) the difference.

Tastes change, and our palates become more sophisticated with experience; that's essential to the much-needed growth and diversity of comics. It's part of a healthy comic book reader's diet. But we can't forget that at one time, we were in love with cookies and Kool-Aid.