Perry White for governor!

You may not know this if you don't live in Texas (and if the voting numbers here are anything to go by, maybe not even then), but the state recently had its primary elections for the governor's race. The winning Republican candidate was incumbent Gov. Rick Perry, and the Democratic nod went to former Houston mayor Bill White.

I'm a little embarrassed to admit this, but some sharpie at the local TV station noticed something that went right over my head. Like, you might say, a speeding bullet.

Do you see it yet? White and Perry. Perry and White.

Perry.

White.

Holy crap!

Even more amazingly they decided to do a story about it, featuring both Dragon's Lair Comics and my own regular shop, Austin Books and Comics (where there's a party going on right now THAT I'M MISSING. See what I do for you? It's because I give and I give. I'm a giver.) They even interviewed Austin Books' own Brandon Zuern, raconteur, gadabout and the guy who introduced me to the wonder that is the film, A Boy and His Dog.

The news story is a little doofy and the definition of "slow news day," but I don't care because while it's ostensibly an election story, it's really all about Perry White. Check it out:



Honestly — and given the name for this blog, you might've guessed this by now — it's nice to see my favorite comic book newspaper editor get some much-deserved attention. And why shouldn't he? Perry White is a stalwart of the DCU, not to mention Metropolis. Tirelessly covering events in a town where it's always a good news day, often uncovering the scoops himself, and probably one of the few people to figure out Superman's secret identity (oh, c'mon, OF COURSE he knows), Perry is the consumate newsman and a bedrock of that great metropolitan newspaper known as the Daily Planet.

Yay for Perry White!

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?

Is this thing on?

Well ... hello, there.

As you may have noticed (or not), things have been pretty quiet around these parts. The one-two punch of the holidays and a two-week vacation gave me the chance to take a nice little bit of time off. Now I'm rested and ready to reacquaint myself with this electronic addiction. In other words, I missed you guys and I missed talking comics, so let's get going.

So where was I for the past two weeks? I was lucky enough to spend the time in New York City, and let me tell ya, that's a happening little town. My wife and I saw nearly every museum, landmark and tourist destination while we there, and discovered 14 days is just enough time to realize it's not enough time. Still, we saw almost everything on our list and had a great time. And in case you're wondering, yes, a certain store was on the list:

Sorry about the photo quality — I was a half-block away, for God's sake! Anyway, I'm happy to report that Midtown Comics is pretty much everything you'd feverishly imagine. Friendly staff, plenty of floppies and books in stock, a ton of back issues, toys and statues ... all in all, fairly high on the awesome scale.

Fortunately for me, my wife was patient enough to let me drag her to both Manhattan locations. If you don't live in the New York area and have to choose only one during a trip, I'd recommend the Times Square store. It's bigger (two floors!) and it felt like there was more to gawk at and geek out over. On the other hand, the cozier Lexington location was hiring at the time and it's easy to fantasize about working there.

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Another stop on my NYC geek tour was the Museum of Comic and Cartoon Art, which is hosting exhibits of Harvey Comics art and the work of Ryan Dunlavey (who's probably best known as the co-creator and artist of Action Philosophers). It's really more a gallery than a museum at this point, but it's nice to see someone giving unfiltered attention to comic art and MoCCA does a good job of it. Both of the current exhibits are great, and the Harvey art is particularly fascinating. Both the process and craftsmanship that went into these comics are on display, and it's a treat to see it up close. If you have the chance, you should go check it out and give your support to an organization that's supporting an art form we all love.

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And this has nothing to do with vacationing, but I was sorry to see veteran character actor Pat Hingle died Saturday due to a type of blood cancer. Hingle played Commissioner Gordon in the first four Batman movies, and had a long career that spanned film, television and the stage. He was 84.

Huh. Well, nothing like ending on a depressing note to alienate whatever readers are still here, right? Again, thanks for your patience, and thanks for reading! As always, I appreciate your comments, and thanks for the e-mails asking just where the hell I was. Things will be getting back into the usual rhythm soon — I swear!

Hey Austin, I'm talking to you

Like a lot of people who end up writing comic book blogs, I was lucky enough to work in a comic shop a few years ago. Even luckier, I worked with some great people who made the fact I was surrounded by comics all day the icing on the cake.

Two of those folks, Eric and Roy, have finally made their dream come true by opening their own shop here in Austin. Tribe Comics and Games has only been open a couple of weeks and, like most new businesses, could use your support. If you live in Austin, swing by the shop and give them a try — the guys know their comics (and RPGs and board games) and they truly appreciate their customers, so you know you'll be in good hands.

And hey, the holidays are coming up, so what better time to do a little comic book shopping? Because, y'know, some of us like getting comics for Christmas.

Just sayin'.

So if you find yourself in the Austin area, show Tribe Comics and Games some love. Tell them Max sent ya!

Shopping around: Why I'll never cheat again

Last night, I was unfaithful.

I didn't set out to stray. As the cliché goes, it just happened. And like most cheaters I felt dirty and wrong from the beginning, finding myself in a strange place that felt foreign and unnatural. Worse — and predictably — I ended up unsatisfied, regretting my poor decision and realizing I already had everything I needed.

This morning, I still can't believe I went to a different comic shop.

There really isn't any excuse; it was late, my shop had already closed for the night, and I thought I could just duck into this other shop to grab what I needed. I didn't have anything exotic in mind this week, just a little mainstream stuff. It would be a quickie.

I should have known better. I've mentioned before how much I like my regular store, and every week I'm reminded that Austin Books & Comics is probably the best comic shop in the city (it's certainly the most complete, and the staff is incredibly friendly and helpful). But sometimes circumstance and my impatience are a bad combination.


My wife wasn't feeling well last night, and since it was already getting late I decided we should stick close to home. Austin Books is about three or four miles from my apartment; the Shop That Shall Not Be Named is about three or four blocks. I figured we could swing by, I'd pick up the three books I was planning to get and we'd be on our way. Normally I don't go to this shop, both out of a sense of loyalty to my shop and because the Unnamed Shop's selection sucks. It's really more of a gaming store, with just one small wall for comics; it's great when I need dice, crappy if I would ever want a book that wasn't from DC or Marvel.

In this case, I thought I'd be able to get my books pretty easily since they were all mainstream titles from the Big Two. Instead, I found one. So like a cheating spouse who realizes how good he's got it at home, I'll go slinking back to my usual shop tonight, feeling guilty and begging for forgiveness.

It's a question that gets tossed around, but I'll ask it again: What makes a comic shop a good comic shop? And why does it seem to be something that's so hard to achieve? Why does finding a good shop have to be like trying to find a retail version of a unicorn?

I know I'm lucky to have an excellent shop in my city (my old hometown doesn't have a single decent shop). And if I wasn't going to Austin Books I'd be going to Rogues Gallery, another very good shop with a superior staff that's just a little too far out to be convenient for me (still, it'd be worth the extra drive time). Rogues Gallery used to be part of the local chain of shops I once worked for, and the guys who now own the shop really knows their stuff. (They used to be fellow employees, so yeah, they're living the dream.)

But again, there's that other side of the coin to deal with. Of course I used to go to the shop I worked for, but for a variety of reasons I don't anymore (which is a shame, because I used to love that place). And there was another local string of shops that, one day and without warning, apparently just closed. The scuttlebutt is that customers weren't told in advance, and there was no explanation afterward — from one day to the next all the shops were closed except one, and the only thing customers could do was peer in through darkened windows and wonder what the hell happened.

Often, it seems so easy to point at something and say, "Well, that's not good." I don't claim to know much about the business side of things beyond what I picked up while working at a shop that was fairly large, well-stocked, well-organized and successful in a competitive market. I do know, however, what I look for as a customer.

So why did I stray, especially knowing it wouldn't be what I was looking for? Laziness, circumstance and the illusion of convenience all combined to lead me to a brief tryst with another comic shop. Regret will keep me from going back.

Photo swiped from Justin Davis' Flickr site
Note: The photo is about two years old, and shows about a quarter of the shop; Austin Books is currently in the middle of a renovation, so the layout is likely to change.

I (heart) my comic shop

Like most of us, I go to my local comic shop every Wednesday to pick up my new books for the week. It’s like clockwork, and it’s about as interesting as it sounds; I go after work, weave my way around the other customers while I grab my titles, and then try to talk my wife into going out for dinner before heading home.

But now the routine is a little different and I’m getting to Austin Books & Comics later than normal. Driving to the shop last night around 8 p.m. I thought, “No problem – they’re open late on Wednesdays.” Which is true. What is not true is that “late” means "9 p.m." Which is what I thought.

So we got to the shop and I yanked on the door and KA-CLUNK! Locked! And right there on the door is the sign I’ve seen a hundred times that says, “Wednesdays: Closed — 8 p.m.” Well, hell. I was already walking away when my wife said, “Hey, hey — they’re going to let us in!”

Wait — what? It was still sinking in when Brandon (I think he’s the manager, but is mostly referenced in my head as “that cool guy at Austin Books”) unlocked the door and said, “C’mon in.”

So, yes, even though the store had closed at least a half hour before I pathetically tugged on their door, the staff still let me in so I could get my comics. Sure, it got one more sale in before they went home, but I don’t think it was the reason for unlocking that door. I think they just wanted to give some guy a chance to get his comics.

And that’s pretty cool.

Austin Books already had me with its crazy-complete inventory and helpful staff, but this just cemented it. This is the sort of thing that makes a regular customer a loyal customer.

What about you guys? Let me know in the comments which comic shop you call yours, and how they've earned your superhuman loyalty.

Photo swiped from Austin Books & Comics' Flickr site (and I swear — I am not The Preventor)

What the hell, Midtown?

Midtown Comics has changed the way it publishes its weekly online shipping list, and all I can say is, "Bleagh."

Yes, this is an outrageous sense of entitlement coming from someone who mostly uses the Web site to get an idea of what he's going to buy at his own local comic shop. But even so, I don't understand why Midtown would want to go from an aesthetically boring, but completely functional, listing style to something that seems convoluted and annoyingly hungry for bandwidth. Books, DVDs and every other piece of merchandising are thrown in there with the comic titles, with alphabetization being the only nod to order. A list that was a quick and handy reference is now a slog.

Of course, the easy thing to say is, "Well, find another list, you self-important jerk." And I probably will, even though any other listing I look at is nowhere near as complete or as early. Mostly, it's just a drag to lose something so reliable.

I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one who considers Midtown as having the go-to shipping list, so I'm curious to know if anyone else was put off by the new format. Or is it just me?

Still, again — bleagh.

Mature content: Can older readers equal new comic book fans?

It’s a common topic of discussion in the comics community: How do we – fans, booksellers, creators and publishers – bring new readers into comics?

When it comes to younger readers, we think we’ve got a good idea of how to go about it. Age-appropriate storylines, tie-ins with popular cartoons and titles that can act as a bridge between kiddy books and the regular lines (titles like Runaways, for instance) are common wisdom. And it makes sense – getting new readers when they’re young should help keep the medium fresh and creative, and from a business perspective it helps lay the foundation for future sales.

But what about adult readers? How do you take the average person who might wander into a typical comic book store after watching the latest superhero movie and turn them into ongoing comic readers?

There are some hurdles that can be tough to overcome, not least of which is, ironically, that well-known stigma of comics being “just for kids.” But I think it’s mostly a problem of familiarity – most people just don’t think of comics as “reading,” and even people who do read comics aren’t necessarily knowledgeable of all the various genres that are out there.

When I was working in a comic shop I prided myself on being able to guide people to titles they might not have given a chance otherwise. Best of all was introducing customers to books they never would have thought of but ended up really enjoying. But I had an advantage – they were already coming into the store looking for comics.

It’s a different story outside of the shop. Talking to people who don’t normally read comics is a much tougher sell, and my batting average has only been … well, average. A few people have become regular readers of one or two titles, but more often I’ve gotten polite disinterest and a promise to “catch up with the collections.” A lot of times it’s just the disinterest.

Take, for instance, my wife. In the years that we’ve been together, I’ve rarely been able to entice her into reading comics. My wife is very into history, world cultures and complex storytelling (Russian literature is her favorite), so I thought Neil Gaiman’s Sandman would be a no-brainer. It turned out to be a non-starter, and I was stumped.

Later, she enthusiastically plowed through Art Spiegelman’s Maus, and later still she did the same with Marjane Satrapi’s Persepolis series. Now I think I have a better idea of what kind of comics my wife would be interested in, but I don’t force it (just because it’s my hobby doesn’t mean I expect it to be everybody’s). As it is, it took a while to figure out what kind of books she might like, and I know her better than any random customer.

I wonder why it was so tricky, and it makes me wonder about the market at large. Is it a problem of culture? Other countries don’t seem to have the problem of comics being considered an immature hobby, or as something you’re supposed to outgrow.

Is it a problem of format? People in general seem to expect more magazine for their three bucks (and I can’t really blame them for that), and it might be why there’s a trend toward “waiting for the trade.” But how many of those people actually pick up a trade that comes out months after a comic initially grabbed their attention? And there’s also a learning curve, because it sometimes takes a while for new readers to realize that there are a number of writers and artists and combinations of the two, some of which they’ll like and others they’ll just hate, and it take some patience to navigate all that. How do you convince people it's worth the effort?

Or is it a matter of content? It isn’t fair to expect new readers to be knowledgeable about every genre out there, particularly the independent titles that often escape the notice of even dedicated comic fans. That mostly leaves comics that really are meant for kids or mainstream books that seem to be relying more on cartoony violence and gore, along with a helping of adolescent attempts at titillation.

This isn’t meant to be a knock on those kinds of books (look at my pull-list and you’ll see I have no room to judge), but it doesn’t exactly do anything to dispel the immature image the comics community is trying to fight off.

Which brings me back to my original question: How do we - fans, booksellers, creators and publishers – bring new adult readers into comics? And once we do, how do we keep them there?

Or should concentration stay on younger readers, with the hope that they'll continue to be fans after they've grown up?

I like you, but I'm breaking up with you

Comic books fans have a reputation - not completely undeserved - of being fickle. We expect a lot from our obsession, and we're willing to drop a title the minute an artist or writer we don't like takes over, or if a costume is changed, or if a character does something we think is, well, out of character.

But we are also intensely loyal, and this shows in how we shop. Or actually, in where we shop. Most regular comic book readers I know have a particular store they go to, a place that they consider their shop. This is where they go first, and a lot of times it will be the only place they go. And even if they have some gripes about it, they'll always go to their store.

Until they don't.

Let me explain what got me thinking about this. I like the store I go to, but it also drives me crazy. Since it's a smaller shop, it carries a mostly mainstream selection, which is fine since I read a lot of mainstream books. But, I also read indie titles and books that don't dress up in spandex, and that means I either have to place a special order or go to another shop to get everything on that week's list. The problem with a special order is it either takes weeks to be filled, or someone goofs and the order is never placed at all.

I usually end up going to the back-up shop for whatever's missing at my regular store. Every week.

Honestly, if I was better about ordering things in advance, that would take care of most of my problems with the shop. And like I said, I like my shop. It:

• is staffed by very nice people who make an effort to know what I'm in to
• offers a 15 percent discount to subscribers
• is literally blocks from my home

The back-up shop is more of a schlep (but still not that far, really) and doesn't offer any regular discounts (except 10 percent off graphic novels). They do, however, have almost every title being published in a given week.

But I doubt I'll switch. My main shop has built enough goodwill that I want to stick with them, and that fanboy loyalty makes me want to defend my shop, even from myself.

Which brings me to my point (or my question, actually): What would it take to make you leave your shop for a different one?