Not to be Sold to Minors ... Or Anyone Else

It used to be that comic books were thought as a child's medium. These days it's fortunate if you can get anyone to remember they exist. Because some comic books used to be geared to children, the entire industry was lumped into that. If it had sequential illustrations and used word balloons to convey dialogue, it was for children.

Comic book readers know that just was not the case. And these days, comics that aren't meant for children are the norm, and a child's comic is as rare as an unbiased Fox newscast.

I have no problem with comic books geared to children. I also have have no problem with comic books meant to appeal to adults. What I do have an issue with is people who think adult comics (whether or not they are porn or just have a more complex storyline) should not exist. Having worked in a few different comic book stores, I have encountered those people (often parents, not very often comic book readers).

These unenlightened souls would come into the store and pick up a comic book that looked like it appealed to them -- an adult. As soon as they saw it was for an adult (which is why they picked it up in the first place), they would put it back and say, "They shouldn't sell these things to kids or anyone else." I would have to correct them and state that we don't sell them to kids, but it would be pointless to argue. The mature-subject matter book that appealed to them because they were an adult should not be made for adults or anyone else, and that was that.

It always pained me to see those people with children. It made me wonder what they were teaching those kids.

When I worked the stores in various capacities, I was careful as to what I sold. Comic book store owners and employees often find themselves to be targets to zealots looking to burn a cross or two on the medium's lawn. I never had any incidents where angry parents came back demanding a refund because I sold their sixteen-year-old a Preacher issue, but it was always at the back of my mind.

When a person decided to get into a more in-depth discussion with me about why those comic books should not exist, I was quick to point out that there were novels meant for adults and novels meant for children, but nobody was arguing that adult novels shouldn't exist. Somehow they never got it. Comic books, they said, are different.

No. They are not.

Comic books are an equally valuable entertainment and artistic choice. They enlighten, amuse and educate. To say that comics geared to adults should not be published is akin to saying you don't want to be challenged by any sort of artistic medium. The statement is a badge of ignorance, and far too many adults wear it with pride.

And want to know the kicker? Even if a child had somehow become exposed to a comic book meant for an adult, guess what would happen? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Yes, there would be questions. It's a parents job to answer those things whether or not you are ready to. But I have never seen anything in any adult comic book that would either scar a child for life or flat out destroy them.

Adults are sometimes bigger children than the children they are supposed to support. It's a frightening thought, but that was just your average day in the comic book store.

Cover Review: The Elongated Man #3

What does it say about a mini-series when your title character is in the background? To me it says, "lack of confidence." The fact that the cover, like all the covers in this series, is done as a mock postcard, too, which can work every once in a while, but for all four issues? No.

The Elongated Man has always been a pointless DC character. Not much has made him stand out (though Identity Crisis made him tolerable). This cover is part of that problem. Nothing about it screams "must read" or even "fun." Yeah, it looks like it might be amusing, but also that it is instantly forgettable and not very important in the grand scheme of things. The pun, "From Bad to Wurst," is also a groaner -- again like the character.

All four issues of this series had covers that failed to catch anyone's attention. If you are one of three Elongated Man fans, you probably were overwhelmed at the possibilities of this series, and probably also really enjoyed the covers. You may also enjoy watching paint dry and old sitcoms on TV Land.

The rest of us are left wishing this character would have never been created in the first place.

This Die Hard May be Dead

As I write this, "What's The Frequency, Kenneth?" is playing. You may remember the R.E.M. song. The more astute among you will remember it as something that was asked of Dan Rather before being attacked by a random thug. (Or was it more than one?) The phrase is cryptic at best. Pointless at the very least. It's much like the new Die Hard Year One comic book series.

I got the first two issues of this series for two reasons: the movies and the writer, Howard Chaykin. Both have had some misses in their respective careers, but overall tend to be entertaining.

The verdict is still out on whether this will be a hit or miss, but with two issues read so far I kind of think it will be the latter.

Spotty art, less than authentic dialogue, and a storyline that is going somewhere but taking its time getting there. Those are the first impressions of these two issues. Honestly, it doesn't even feel like Chaykin's behind the wheel, and the Bruce Willis-marine-turned-cop could be any cop. He doesn't have the feel of McClane. Granted, this is his first year as a cop, but McClane is a strong enough personality that some of that would appear in his first year in the uniform. Instead, we're given generic cops and stereotypical cops. Generic wives and stereotypical husbands. In fact, it all feels so generic and stereotypical.

I'll stick with it to see how it plays out. I'm not expecting big things. By this point I'm not expecting anything if truth be told. I am perplexed, however. Why did anyone green light this story? Is it the Die Hard franchise or Chaykin's name that sold it? One had to do it, so why not utilize it?

As I finish this up, Scritti Politti is playing. "Perfect Way." Does anyone remember this band? Does anyone care about this song? Exactly. The Die Hard Year One comic book is bound to end up the same way if it continues on this instantly forgettable path.

Annoying Store Owner

Michael Tierney, owner of Collector's Edition in Arkansas, is a man who has always annoyed me. His Trendwatcher write-ups in the ever-shrinking Comics Buyer's Guide and letters in the same place have made him seem like a reluctant moral crusader who is out to protect children from upsetting comic books (which is, when it gets down to it, the parent's job). Granted, since parents are lazy and since comic books have a bad history when it comes to "harmful matter" and children, some may see Tierney's advice and wisdom as a blessing. I differ.

In the December 2009 issue of Comics Buyer's Guide Tierney is once again featured in the CBG Trendwatchers section. Apparently he was profiled by his "state" newspaper. This brought him all kinds of publicity, which is great for a store owner. What really filled his heart with wholesome glee, however, was the parents.

"Most gratifying were all the parents," he wrote, "who came in to thank me for my efforts to provide them better content information. I felt like The Hulk on the cover of Incredible Hulk #279, where he's carried on the shoulders of a cheering crowd." I think that swelled head makes him more like the Leader, but I'll grant him his small victory. After all, he is in Arkansas and those people probably need someone to tell them what is safe to read.

When I managed Comic Castle I often had parents asking me what was "safe" for their children. I would give recommendations, but only after saying something like, "Well, I don't know your child, or even how mature he or she is. I can recommend some titles and tell you why I recommend them, but you need to look at what I'm recommending before you buy it because you know your child better than I do."

Parents seemed to appreciate that, and I had parents turn down Uncanny X-Men but at the same time pick up The Filth. (The mother who did that said she did so because the violence in the Marvel title seemed exploitive and there for no other reason then that's what heroes did, while the Vertigo title at least had a story with substance behind it. Interesting, as I enjoyed both titles.) I didn't feel like a crusader or hero, though. I was just doing my damn job. Tierney, it seems, likes his role as a moral barometer, and based on the recommendations he often gives, I would say he's knows what's safe if only because he is very familiar with boring.

I have never stepped foot in either of the man's stores, and probably never will. If the man runs his shops like I think he does, you will find nothing all that thought provoking or even erotic. It's his store. He doesn't have to stock those kinds of titles. They exist, however, and some comic book fans like them. Again, he may stock those types of things, but I strongly suspect that Vertigo and a few indie titles are about as thought provoking as he gets. (I doubt he ever carried Skinheads in Love, for example, but I could be wrong.)

Thanks for keeping America's children safe, Mr. Tierney. All the mouth-breathing parents sure appreciate it.

Cover Review: Daredevil #36

I'm a huge fan of the Daredevil character. No secret there. The above issue is #36 in his original Marvel series. As you can see, twelve cents was it all it took for about twenty minutes of entertainment. My how times have changed.

This is a mediocre Daredevil cover, and this series had plenty of those. Gene Colan, an artist I've never really liked because he makes everyone look a little deformed, did the pencils and Paul Reinman went crazy on the inks. The result is a cover that could've been really good, but instead looks unkempt.

The use of the single light to spotlight the unconscious Daredevil is a great touch. Looking at the man's face who is holding him, however, gives the reader the sense this guy just came across our hero. He doesn't look like the type who could take down the Man Without Fear. In fact, he looks a little mentally disabled. If that was supposed to give readers a sense of danger, it didn't work. If it was to get us to question what was going on -- mission accomplished.

"The name of the game is ... MAYHEM!" reads the cover blurb. Is mayhem what is going on, or is it the name of the man who is holding Daredevil's limp body? Good questions again, and one can only hope the former is true because this guy looks to be light years away from Mayhem. Maybe it's that goofy outfit which makes him look like he should be a figure on a futuristic playing card from Bicycle. ("I got the Joker, and he's wild!") It leads to questions, and since I think Daredevil readers tend to demand a little more from their comic book stories, this is a good thing.

With all respect to Colan, too, this is one of his more reserved works. Nobody's collar is flying out of control, no coats are whipping around, lips aren't distorted, no hair is askew. Daredevil's limp, outstretched hand seems to be pleading for our help, too, which is a great ploy on Colan's behalf. It gives the reader a stake in the outcome of the tale. Regular readers can't help put to pick it up. First time readers may just be curious enough to see what is going on. It will not, however, attract a reader who has never had a desire to read the title before.

This isn't the worst Daredevil cover ever done. Nor is it the best. It kind of matches what often happens with this title. When it's good, it's really good. Otherwise, it just tends to sit there until a capable writer (like Frank Miller, Brian Michael Bendis or Ed Brubaker) comes along.

Woe is Me

I recently finished Essential Silver Surfer Vol. 1, which a co-worker gave me, and I can't say I'm impressed. First some thoughts on the Essentials line.

The idea behind the Essentials books is a good one. They are the size of phone books and reprint a whole lot of issues (which would usually cost a small fortune to get individually) for around $16.99. A great price for that big of a book. The only problem is that they are in black and white. I have no problem with black and white comics, but I do have a problem with reprinting comics in black and white that were originally meant to be in color. It loses something. It's like making a color movie black and white or even colorizing a black and white film.

That rant is over.

The Silver Surfer is not a character I ever really cared about. He was fine guest-starring in stories, and that '90s Ron Lim series wasn't too terrible, but overall he's always been a whiner. Shedding a tear (literally) over his lost love and the cruelty of humanity. I always looked at him as what Marvel considered to be its Jesus figure (when in reality that is my favorite hero, Daredevil). The Surfer was a mass of twisted, poorly handled contradictions (he won't steal from Reed Richards, but has no problem stealing from a bank in the same issue) when his first solo series first started, and to solidify that Jesus angle, a recurring villain was none other than Mephisto.

I've kind of like Mephisto in the Marvel Universe. Face it, he just looks cool. And his mission when it comes to Surfer is to get him to give up his soul. Pretty straightforward. Could make for engaging reading with another hero and a better writer's hands. (Oddly enough, later in the Surfer series they both end up donning the same disguise to blend in with humans: trench coat and hat.) In these first 18 issues (and on Fantastic Four annual) the red one (though you wouldn't be able to discern that from the Essentials book) makes several appearances, none of which are truly memorable (though him getting Surfer to attack SHIELD was pretty cool).

Surfer is such a whiner, however, that I kept wishing every villain he went up against, whether it be Yetis or the U.S. Army, would tear him in half. His constant sorrow is not only depressing, but it actually serves as a reminder that while pathos can work well for some, on Surfer it is about as appealing as it was with Kurt Cobain. One just wishes Surfer would have checked out the same way.

In these first 18 issues, humanity is shown as the beast it is. I agree with Stan Lee's depiction. What I don't agree with is how humans treat Surfer, and how Surfer reacts to that. Humanity wouldn't hate Surfer because he was different or misunderstood. It would hate him because here he is, essentially a god, and all he can do is lament. He has the Cosmic Power, which enables him to heal the sick and wounded (except when it really counts), and all he can do is think about how he wishes humans would understand him. I get the fact that he is trapped far away from the woman he loves, but he seems incapable of moving beyond that. Why even venture to Earth then? Especially after the first time humans attack him? Why not just stay in space? I know it's because the writers need to write stories, but it makes the Surfer come across as a pathetic idiot who doesn't learn from his mistakes. I would attack him, too, especially when he refused to reduce the attackers to steaming puddles of bubbling flesh.

Before reading these stories I didn't understand the Surfer's appeal. After reading them, however, I think I got it. Surfer appeals to armchair intellectuals who thought they were deep in the 1960s because they smoked pot, read some philosophy and still were into pop culture enough to read highbrow comics like Silver Surfer. They thought they were special because they could somehow misinterpret the Kronstadt rebellion and find imaginary parallels to the Surfer's plight on planet Earth. They'd drop acid and then proclaim that real revolutionaries read of the Surfer's exploits and "the Man" and his apologists stuck to capitalist drivel like Detective Comics. Every adult over 40 I've ever met who likes the Surfer has kind of fallen into that category, and they haven't changed. "Surfer is deep, man. He, like, points out all our problems and shows us what is wrong with the world ... and he surfs ... the sky!"

Silver Surfer is a baby with a bazooka. He knows not what he can do. Thank God I was only given the first volume.

Marvel Zombies

I am a fan of horror movies, as anyone who has read my other blog, The Last Picture Blog, can attest to. I also like zombie films. When it comes to comics, I do enjoy the horror ones, especially EC and, of all things, Charlton's horror lines from the days of yore. I do not, however, read the current crop of horror and, most notably, zombie comics.

I don't know why I don't read these titles like Walking Dead, which has gotten all kinds of acclaim. I've never given them a chance, and I really have no desire to. It's not that I don't think they're any good. In fact, the one I did read, the first Marvel Zombies series, was actually quite enjoyable. It did not make me want to pick up the other series in that line, and nor did it get to me to explore other titles. So why the hesitation to read these?

I'm picky when it comes to new titles (not that these are new now, but if I didn't get them when they started it is doubtful I will pick them up now). I'm also very random. When the zombie books first started getting big, I was doubtful of whether or not they would last. I didn't want to start a series that would be around five months and end without a formal conclusion. Therefore, I avoided them. When it was obvious they weren't going anywhere, it was already too late. I stayed away despite my friends telling me how good these books were (and some amazing covers). The Marvel book I did read was fine, but it also came across as a novelty with no real bearing in the Marvel Universe (why this should matter is obvious -- I'm also big on continuity). It was a big What-If that made me ask, "What if it mattered?"

In the future I may pick up the back issues of various series on the cheap (when I no longer have to worry about car repairs, plane tickets and the like). There are great deals to be had on eBay, but I really have enough to read now at the moment (nine short boxes or so). Until then, I've got the films. At least I know those won't end halfway through.