Evil is Relative

The Superman Family of comics is on a hot streak right now, and are better overall than they've been in a decade-plus. But right now the one that I'm cracking open as soon as I get home from the comic shop is Sophie Campbell's Supergirl, which is quite possibly the best series ever to feature a character with that name, Kryptonian or otherwise. 

I want to highlight just one detail in the most recent issue, Supergirl #3, because it shows a story trope we've seen a lot in the last several years, particularly with Supergirl, but gets it right in a way that few creators do. 

See, Supergirl gets hit with a beam powered by Black Kryptonite. As a result she turns into Satan Girl (and Krypto turns into a bad dog who sadly isn't given a name) and goes on a rampage through Midvale. This is a bit de rigueur for Supergirl; Satan Girl was an evil duplicate of her created by Red Kryptonite back in 1963, and Black Kryptonite made its first comic book appearance in 2006's Supergirl #5, where it created an evil duplicate of Supergirl. Since then, Supergirl's joined with H'el, become a Red Lantern, and been Jokerized, and I feel like I'm forgetting a couple of other "Supergirl goes bad" plotlines. It seems to be the go-to story for a character that comic writers often don't have any other ideas for. Which is a shame, because there's plenty of other drama to mine from Supergirl's core concept. 

Black Kryptonite is likely inspired by the synthetic Kryptonite in Superman III, where Gus Gorman substituted "tar" for the unknown ingredient. After exposure to the synthetic Kryptonite, Superman went bad, until eventually he split into two individuals and had a fight until they reintegrated.

"Superman goes bad" is a pretty familiar story beat in recent years, too, whether it's his post-resurrection brawl in the Snyder Justice League film or the Injustice universe version of the character who jumped from video games to comics to a crossover with the main universe's Jon Kent, or the various evil alternate versions like Brightburn and Homelander. And I get the interest in exploring the horror inherent to someone truly sinister having the practically unlimited power that Superman has. We see variations of those stories even with characters like General Zod and Lex Luthor, remorseless villains driven by megalomania.

What I appreciate about Superman III and Supergirl #3 is what they tell us about Superman and Supergirl. When loosed from the bonds of their morality, what do we see them do? Not murder, not world domination, not horrific violence.

No, instead they just become jerks.

Superman straightens the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Supergirl pantses a bunch of people. They do pranks and acts of vandalism. They do the kind of "evil" that a villain in a Care Bears cartoon would do. 

And that tells us something interesting, something fundamental about the Cousins of Steel: That at their core, there's not some world-dominating villain just barely restrained by the bonds of their steadfast moral codes. Cruelty and domination aren't in their nature. The worst they can muster is mean.

To me, this rings a lot truer than the murdergod stories. I'm sure there are people who would, if given the power and the freedom from guilt, go on a rampage. The current political situation makes that abundantly clear. But I think a lot more of us would just be more lazy, petty, hedonistic, and immature.

Which means that even when they've been turned evil, Supergirl and Superman are better people than their villains. And I appreciate that.

Boldly Going

I finally picked up some of the Batman: Brave and the Bold DVDs, and while I'm waiting for the first season to arrive, I popped one of the second-season discs into the DVD player for background. I've watched the show off and on enough to know it's awesome, but "A Bat Divided" is just a special kind of great. It's not just the interesting new twist on Firestorm--which I hope carries over somewhat into the New 52 where the status quo seems similar--nor is it the huge number of cameos--Killer Moth! The Eraser! The Ten-Eyed Man!--it's Dr. Double X, who is just a sensational character rediscovery.

Characters like Dr. Double X are the reason why I wish I knew more about the zanier eras of Batman, since the zany tide of the Silver Age crazied all boats. I just wish I'd known about him when I was doing Walking with Superman. I can already imagine the plot...

A prologue of sorts, I guess?

As should be obvious by now, I spend a lot of time thinking about Superman. Probably an unhealthy amount, actually. As a consequence, I've found myself doing a lot of Superman reading lately. Three things in particular have been working to change and reshape my opinions of the character (in some cases even including some of the things I once thought were foundational): the Morrison/Millar/Waid/Peyer "Superman 2000" pitch, Elliot S! Maggin's novel Superman: The Last Son of Krypton, and the Maggin/Bates era of Superman comics from the '70s and early '80s. I've got a bunch of posts percolating about stuff from these sources, and while I'd like to say that that means you'll be reading more about Superman here than usual, we both know that's not the case.

One thing that I think is worth mentioning is the fact that each of these three materials is something that I've actively avoided reading, for one reason or another. I wrote off the "Superman 2000" pitch after I heard about it, mainly because I thought the whole concept of splitting up Lois and Clark's marriage was wrongheaded, smacking of the same Silver Age nostalgia that was running rampant in the DCU and comics in general. I still think it'd be a bad idea to break up comics' most famous couple, but mostly because I don't think anyone has really taken advantage of the story potential of the marriage, and because I don't think you can un-ring that wedding bell. Once Clark and Lois have broken up, even if neither of them remembers the marriage, I think everyone everywhere is going to be reading the rest of their stories as biding time and treading water until they get married again. Mark Waid's "Birthright" made me further convinced that the "Superman 2000" situation would have been a total fiasco, and so I wrote off the pitch as a profoundly bad idea.

Now that I've read it, I can't believe that I wrote it off so completely based on what was, ultimately, such a tiny aspect of the whole enterprise. It's made me decide to revisit "Birthright," to read that series in light of what these four horsemen actually wanted to achieve. While I think Waid still dropped the ball (the "soul-vision"/vegetarianism concept was explained a lot more clearly and sensibly in "Superman 2000" than in "Birthright"), I think a larger ball was dropped by the editorial staff who decided instead to go with the Jeph Loeb soft reboot. But that's a story for another post.

"Birthright" was what made me decide not to read the Maggin Superman novels. I'd heard that "soul-vision" came out of Miracle Monday, and that was enough to make me write off those as well. I picked up Last Son of Krypton some years ago at a used bookstore, and I'm actually on my second copy, having lent the first to a friend, without ever actually cracking it. I picked up Miracle Monday back in '08, but haven't gotten to it, either. With Spring Break coming up, I anticipate having enough time to actually finish the first novel, and I'd like to finish the second before the actual Miracle Monday in May. I'm only nine chapters in, but this is some good Superman. I was silly to ignore it for so long based on spurious guilt by association.

Which brings us to the Bates/Maggin era of the Superman comics, which I've largely avoided for a totally different reason: they didn't matter. I started reading Superman regularly in 1992, and one of my earliest introductions was with the Wizard Death of Superman Special. I read that thing cover to cover multiple times, absorbing every single fact I could, and one of those facts was that the Crisis changed Superman and things were different now and nothing from before mattered. This caused multiple arguments between me and my mother. So I wrote anything pre-1986 off as silly Silver Age non-continuity stuff, and never really looked back, barring the occasional "For the Man Who Has Everything." In recent years, I've been growing a greater appreciation for the Silver Age, but that still left a pretty huge gap including all of the '70s and early '80s--in large part because almost none of it has been collected. The Alan Moore stories have been reprinted, and a handful of issues in the decade-style trades, but most of the Maggin/Bates era has been left to collect dust in back issue boxes. And that's a shame, because these are some of the most interesting, most fun Superman comics I've read in a long time. There's some of that Silver Age goofiness, to be sure, but I think modern comics could do with an injection of the Julie Schwartz model of writing stories to fit a crazy/punchy cover. The more significant point to be made is that these comics are fun, and that's often been sorely lacking in Superman's books. I'd love to see these reprinted in some kind of omnibus format, or even just a less-piecemeal way than the current "stories from a certain decade or theme" model of old-school reprintings.

Hm. This was supposed to be a very different post. I guess that'll be the next one, then. The moral of the stories, kids: don't dismiss things for stupid reasons. Every comic story is an "imaginary story," and ignoring some because you think they're somehow less imaginary than others is just stupid.

Getting it Right

I was pretty harsh on Chris Roberson's first issue of Superman, mainly due to a fairly glaring error. I also have a history of getting quite annoyed when comics mangle basic science in the service of technobabble. There's an art to technobabble, and it's clear that not every writer is the staff of "Star Trek: The Next Generation."

So it's always nice to be able to praise writers when they get it right. And in "Superman/Batman" #80, Chris Roberson got it right.

Frankly, it started with some excellent time travel action in the DC One Million future in #79. I'm a big fan of DC's various futures, especially that one, and I'm similarly a big fan of stories that play around with time travel, so this hits a lot of nice notes for me. I do wish post-DC One Million uses of the 853rd Century characters would recall that their outfits have lens flares associated with them; every damn character commented on the strange fabric of the heroes' outfits in the original crossover, and it's not like lens flare is difficult to add.

But I digress. The point is, the first part of the story is strong, but it's the second part that really makes me happy.

It starts with Epoch's attack on Superman, using a burst of red sun energy. I've noted before the recent trend in writers treating red sun energy as if it immediately robs Superman of his abilities, as it did in the Silver Age. Since the dawn of the modern age, though, Superman's cells have stored yellow sun energy like a battery, and so exposure to red sun energy alone shouldn't drain that energy. Under red sunlight, Superman's cells simply shouldn't recharge, but they should use the yellow sun energy as usual.

So I'm elated to see Roberson getting that precisely right on this page. Epoch fires red sun energy at him with such intensity that it would cause Superman to burn off yellow sun energy (since invulnerability uses that energy like any of his other powers) while being unable to replenish it. As Superman explains, the attack still left enough yellow sun radiation in his cells that he would have his abilities. It's a small, simple detail, but it's still nice to see.

The real treat, however, comes when Superman, Batman, and Robin are locked in Epoch's "Omega Barrier," a cubic force-field with a barrier "as impenetrable as the event horizon of a black hole." First, there's this excellent bit of characterization:

Maybe it's just me, but that seems like a pitch-perfect Superman line. And the way out of a trap that's as inescapable as a black hole is the same way that energy and information escape from a black hole. As Superman correctly explains, even a vacuum is constantly churning with the creation and annihilation of virtual particle-antiparticle pairs. Normally these quantum fluctuations average out to nearly zero energy, but at the event horizon of a black hole, every so often pair creation causes one particle to appear outside of the black hole's range, and the other to appear within that range, causing one particle to fall into the black hole and the other to escape. The net effect is that energy leaks out of a black hole as Hawking Radiation, and over time that would cause the black hole itself to evaporate.

So Superman focuses his heat vision on the Omega Barrier's wall, hoping to increase the rate of particle-antiparticle pair production, and thus create a buildup of Hawking Radiation, which ultimately knocks Epoch out of the sky and disintegrates the barrier. It's a very clever solution, and any scientific quibbles I might have are minor at best (and at least one of them evaporates faster than a black hole if Hawking Radiation is understood in a context of quantum tunneling). It's an excellent example of how real scientific concepts can be tweaked into interesting superheroics without losing the integrity of the science.

So kudos to Chris Roberson. More than anything else, this issue has me excited to see what he does next with the Man of Steel, and based on this two-parter, I hope he stays on the book beyond the conclusion of "Grounded." Because it looks like he's capable of a lot more than batting cleanup for Straczynski.

Superboy's Age

An amusing post over at Thoughtballoons poses the question of Superboy's age, which is kind of an interesting nexus of problems that only comic book characters face. To wit:

1. Superboy is a clone who emerged fully-formed from his test tube, physically sixteen years old when he was 'born.'
   
2. Several years in real-time, and an unknown amount of comic book time, passed, during which Superboy learned that he would not age beyond 16.
   
3. In the "Sins of Youth" crossover, Superboy was artificially aged, then restored, but this (as I recall) fixed his inability to grow older.
   
4. A few years in real time, and an unknown amount of comic book time, passed, and Superboy was taken one thousand years into the future, where he spent several months of real time and an unknown amount of comic book time with the Legion.
   
5. Superboy returned to the present, around the same time that he left.
   
6. A few years in real time, and an unknown amount of comic book time, passed, and Superboy died.
   
7. Superboy's corpse was placed into a sort of suspended animation/regeneration matrix, where it remained for a thousand years of comic book time and a year or two of real time.
   
8. After that thousand years or so, Superboy was revived by a different Legion of Super-Heroes, and he returned to the present.

So how old is Superboy? A few years? Nearly eighteen? That, plus a thousand?

In any case, I imagine he and Bart Allen have quite a lot to talk about. Frankly, they've got so much in common that I think we ought to see a lot more of Conner and Bart hanging out than Conner and Tim.

On Serial Storytelling

I mentioned this in my Superman rant, but I think it's worth expanding, because I think it's a major problem with mainstream comics right now. The bottom line is that there is a big difference between a serialized story and a story released in installments.

Starting with some books in the Silver Age, serialized storytelling became the norm for comics for decades. The ultimate goal of a serial story is to keep the reader coming back, month after month. This is accomplished through building up multi-part stories and developing continuing subplots that link the major stories together. The pinnacle of this is the Levitz Paradigm, Paul Levitz's moderately famous method of developing subplots over time and promoting them to main plots to maintain forward motion. At its simplest, this is what serial comic strips do: one panel recaps previous events, one panel introduces new action, and one panel leads into the next installment. The idea in serial storytelling is to generally maintain a flow from one story into the next. The advantage is that it gives momentum to the series and makes each new story feel like it grows naturally out of the last one. The disadvantage is that it relies on and requires some sense of continuity, which can make writers feel hampered and could potentially scare away new readers¹. Such comics are also difficult to collect in trades

For the most part, this wasn't the case throughout the Golden Age and well into the Silver Age. Comics had very little continuity, in part owing to the demands of the distribution model--comics were distributed at newsstands and grocery store spinner racks, and there was no guarantee which titles would be available from month to month, making it difficult for most readers to follow any one series regularly. Instead, comics were released serially, but each with a mostly self-contained story (so to use the terminology above, each story was released in a single installment). The advantage of this model was that anyone could jump on anywhere; the disadvantages were that anyone could also jump off anywhere, writers were hampered by the inability to tell longer stories, and any continuity accumulated largely unintentionally. It was the growth of the direct market, a major change in the distribution model, which allowed the serialized story model to take over.

The installment story didn't die out during the reign of the serialized story. Instead, the direct market allowed for it to flourish in new forms, no longer tied to ongoing titles and anthology books. Direct market distribution meant that readers could be reasonably expected to follow multi-part stories in a way that they couldn't in the past, and the growth of comic shops meant that interested customers were being regularly exposed to a lot more product than they'd usually find at a newsstand. All this led to the development of things like the mini-series, the maxi-series, one-shots, prestige format books, and original graphic novels. But it seemed, in many cases, that the hope of many of these installment stories was to test the waters for or lead into the real moneymaker, an ongoing series (generally told in serialized story format).

Today, the model is shifting that again. The direct market has become the main avenue for comic distribution, and the casual market has died out almost entirely. But now, the growth of the trade paperback has allowed chain bookstores and Internet shops to pick up a huge portion of overall comic sales. This change in distribution has allowed for another shift in comic storytelling, away from the serialized story and back toward the installment story. The mini- and maxi-series model of finite, largely self-contained stories has become the storytelling model for most ongoing titles, replacing the serialized story model. Again, it's looking at the big moneymaker, which is no longer the ongoing series but the collected edition. In part, this is because bookstore and Internet distribution bring up a lot of the same problems that existed in the days of the newsstand: there's no guarantee which volumes will be available at your local shop, and stand-alone self-contained stories are easier to justify purchasing (while numbered volumes may be daunting to casual readers). Trades rely at least as much on character and creator popularity for sales as they do on continuing stories.

Right now, the individual periodical comic (or floppy) is having a hard time justifying its existence. It seems to exist for three reasons: to maintain the market provided by comic stores, to ensure that comic creators get paid regularly, and to produce content to be collected into trade paperbacks. That's pretty problematic; trades are largely ad-free, more durable, take up less space, contain complete stories, are often easier to obtain (Amazon and Borders deliver to my house), and are often cheaper than their floppy counterparts (especially since Amazon and Borders offer better discounts than my local comic shop). Right now, the best reason to keep buying floppies is to stay on top of the stories as they happen, and that's a pretty flimsy reason.

I think DC and Marvel are looking to electronic distribution to be the new justification for floppies, but I don't know how well that will work unless they cut way back on print runs to account for the people who'd rather just fill their hard drives. Still, I think people (especially comic fans, and especially people without iPads) generally like to have something physical (which is why CDs still exist), and as long as periodical comics are focused on writing for the trade, they're going to see readers waiting for the trade. In order to justify periodical comics, I think the pendulum needs to swing a bit back toward serialized stories. Hopefully, digital distribution will help make that a possibility, but I'm not terribly optimistic. Right now, most ongoing comics seem to be mini- and maxi-series loosely tied together, if at all.

Or comics need to find a new balance, using building subplots to link together installment stories. There have been books which use variations on that model, like Blue Beetle and Incredible Hercules, but they've become the minority rather than the majority. I think there's room for both installment stories and serialized stories in comics, but I'd like to see a little more effort put into giving them the room to do what they're best suited to. Let OGNs be OGNs, don't dismember them into floppies. Let ongoing series be ongoing series, not strung-together miniseries. And let's realize that you can't float the entire industry on the Wednesday regulars--especially if your target demographic is the trade-waiters..

Superman Sunday: Origins (Part 4)

"Boys and girls, your attention please. Presenting a new exciting radio program featuring the thrilling adventures of an amazing and incredible personality!"

With that brief introduction on February 12, 1940, Superman made his way off of the page and onto the airwaves, taking the first small steps into a multimedia empire that would span decades (so far). I think it's fairly common knowledge that a lot of the Superman mythos started with the radio program--everything from Kryptonite to the Daily Planet to "Look! Up in the sky!"--and made its way into the comics later. It's a process that continues to this day, as comics incorporate characters and details from other media into the print continuity¹, generally reflecting either the actual greater visibility and popularity of non-comic media, or the comic writers' perception that that's the case.

What's less common knowledge, I think, is that such elements weren't in place from the start. There's some incredible adaptation decay involved here, which never quite made the leap from broadcast to print--and that's probably for the best.

But the first episode contains a version of the destruction of Krypton that could easily be taken straight from a modern portrayal. Give it a listen:


Frankly, I'm not entirely sure how to go about describing this show, since there's no convenient way to reference discreet bits like panels or even scenes. I think I'm just going to listen through and write up what seems significant. I'll also take a moment to say that I imagine the posts will tend to get either longer or less in-depth as time goes on, since the origin stories get longer as time goes on. Sure, these early years, even up through the Kirk Alyn serial and the '50s comics, have stories that are confined to relatively short time periods and page counts. But 1978 brings a 45-minute origin story; 1996's is nearly 90 minutes, and by 2003 we have 12 full issues to contend with. I'm not made of blogging.

The first significant portion is the introductory narration.

Faster than an airplane! More powerful than a locomotive! Impervious to bullets!
"Up in the sky, look!"
"It's a bird!"
"It's a plane!"
"It's Superman!"

And now, Superman.

It's clearly the rough draft of the opening that we're all used to from the cartoons and TV shows, which is so frequently referenced in pop culture that I suspect most people can rattle large parts of it off the top of their heads, even if they've never seen a Superman show before. Hearing it this first time, the same but subtly different, is a lot like reading the original U.S. Pledge of Allegiance after reciting the revised version in school my whole life. "More powerful than a locomotive" and the bird/plane/Superman bits are the only full lines that make it to the more familiar introduction intact. Eventually, as you know, the first and third lines are combined to become "faster than a speeding bullet," and we get the added "able to leap tall buildings in a single bound," trading a description of invulnerability for leaping/flight. I'll be curious to see if the "leaping" bit is introduced before or after he gains sustained flight as a power. It's hard to say whether "faster than a plane" (vs. bullet) is meant to be a description of his limits or not; as far as I can tell from very cursory research, military planes around the time had top speeds around 450 mph, and Chuck Yeager wouldn't officially break the sound barrier (761.2 mph) for another eight years. I haven't found any official specs on bullet speeds from guns of the era, but bullet speeds in general can easily outstrip that depending on conditions, ranging from 400 mph at the low end to over 3000 mph. Not that Superman's powers have ever been quite so clearly defined, that is, I'm just interested to know if this is meant to be an "impressive but not preposterous" description of his speed, where the change to "faster than a speeding bullet" was an extension of his power, or if it's just that "faster than a speeding bullet" is more impressive and poetic.

Moving right along, there's a second paragraph to the introduction, which again is like a first draft for the version that becomes immortal². It's an interesting mix of what we've seen at the end of the origin stories in the comics and lines like "strange visitor from another planet" that show up in later iterations. Here it is, for posterity and the hearing-impaired:

And now, Superman: a being no larger than an ordinary man, but possessed of powers and abilities never before realized on Earth. Able to leap into the air an eighth of a mile at a single bound! Hurdle a twenty-story building with ease! Race a high-powered bullet to its target! Lift tremendous weights and rend solid steel in his bare hands, as though it were paper. Superman: a strange visitor from a distant planet, champion of the oppressed, physical marvel extraordinary, who has sworn to dedicate his existence on Earth to helping those in need.

The "eighth of a mile"/"twenty-story building"/"raise tremendous weights" has been pretty well consistent in the different origin stories, as has the "champion of the oppressed" and "helping those in need." Frankly, I really like the "champion of the oppressed" moniker, and I'll be interested to see when it gets phased out. "Rend steel" eventually becomes "bend steel," "distant planet" eventually becomes "another planet," and "race a high-powered bullet" eventually gets streamlined into the first-paragraph zinger. For how much of this is taken directly from the comics, it's significant to note that they don't mention that his skin is impervious to anything "less than a bursting shell." And, for that matter, though they keep the "leaping," the sound effect they use sure sounds like flying to me. There's also no mention of Clark Kent, though I think the reasons for that will become obvious in the second episode. This first installment is just about the sci-fi.

There's some nice poetic language in the description of our auditory journey, to "where the planet Krypton burns like a green star in the endless heaven." Here, as in all the previous versions of the story, the denizens of Krypton are highly-evolved supermen at the peak of human physical perfection. The story proper opens on "Krypton's foremost scientist" Jor-L addressing "the planet's governing council" in the Temple of Wisdom. Through his "solar calculations," Jor-L has determined that Krypton is doomed. He lists a litany of natural disasters that have been plaguing the planet, leading to the inevitable conclusion that the planet is facing its final days. Members in the crowd dismiss his doomsaying as mad, and Rozan is sure that he's made a mistake. On the contrary, says Jor-L, Krypton is being drawn ever closer to its sun, and within a month the gravitational stresses will cause Krypton's complete destruction. The council laughs, but Rozan humors him: "Assuming for the moment, Jor-L, that what you say is true, how are we to avoid it? What can we do to stop it?" Jor-L explains that he's been working on a space-ship, and with time and the combined effort and resources of the council, they might be able to evacuate the entire population of Krypton to Earth, which has a similar atmosphere.

Rozan is, again, dismissive. Of course they "have the utmost respect for your [Jor-L's] knowledge and integrity," but he's obviously been working too hard. "Planets as large as Krypton do not explode, Jor-L." So the government recognizes that Jor-L is the world's foremost scientist, respected for his knowledge and integrity, but they patronize him, dismiss his findings as "impossible" and laugh him out of the building, calling him crazy, because they don't like his conclusions and obviously they know more about science than the world's foremost scientist. There's a relevant lesson in all that, even seventy years later.

Another earthquake hits, and Jor-L repeats his warnings.

Jor-L: Wait! Do you hear that, gentlemen? It's the forewarning of doom! Every moment is precious now! Quakes like that are sounding the death knell of Krypton! It will happen, gentlemen, and happen soon! When the last great eruption comes--

Rozan: When it comes, Jor-L, it shall find all of us ready. If Krypton is to die, we shall die with it. The parting would be much too severe. [The council laughs].

And there you have it. The Council of Krypton has chosen its fate, and dismissed Jor-L's science as a joke. Jor-L chides them for their flippant attitude: "Laugh all you like, Rozan, and you members of the Council. I have no time to laugh. My wife, Lara³, and my infant son are dear to me. It is not my wish to stand by and see them destroyed!" He then ends his speech with a hearty 'you'll all be sorry,' and they laugh once more. On one hand, Jor-L is acting a bit like a classic crackpot, and it's often hard to tell the difference between reasonable warnings and irrational doomsaying. On the other hand, you can see Jor-L trying every tactic he can think of to convince the council: he starts by explaining his scientific findings in a fairly calm manner and laying out the potential solution, he moves on to trying to scare them into action, and finally he resorts to an appeal to their humanity, using his own family to try to evoke the council's sympathies. None of it works; the old men are too set in their ways, and so Rozan calls a vote with some pretty loaded language: "You have heard Jor-L speak. Is it your wish that we devote time and money to the building of space-ships, for the transportation of Krypton's population to another planet?" The vote goes about as well as you'd expect.

Jor-L tells the Council that they've signed the death warrant for every living thing on the planet, and says he'll proceed with building his own spaceship to save his family. "As for the rest of you: May the gods have mercy on your souls."

Jor-L returns home, where Lara complains about the heat, wondering if it's because of Krypton's increasing proximity to its sun. Jor-L responds in the affirmative, which raises some scientific questions. I'm no astronomer, but I think if Krypton is getting close enough to the sun that it's affecting global temperature, then there should be other, more obvious signs that its orbit is changing. I think the days should appear to be getting longer, seasons should be getting out of whack, the sun should appear larger in the sky. I suppose those changes might not yet be drastic enough, depending on the astronomical conditions, and one should never underestimate the ability of people in positions of power to rationalize away the obvious. Lara asks him how the Council responded to his news, but Jor-L says he didn't mention it. He doesn't have the heart to tell her that they won't support him (or his pride was wounded by being laughed out of the room). He's just finished building his model rocket, and if it works, he'll build a much larger version for the three of them.

There's a really tragic comment here, from my perspective: "Can't you come in and look at him [Kal-L]? You scarcely see him these days, what with working all hours on the spaceship model." Not only will Jor-L miss his son's childhood and adulthood, sending him off into the cosmic wilderness, but he's sacrificed what little time he does have with the boy to ensure that the child will have a future. That's heartbreaking, and it makes me almost angry that other versions of this origin story have changed this detail, have missed this point, making Jor-L into an artificial intelligence who raises or educates or manipulates his son from beyond the grave. This is the tragedy of Jor-L: he sacrifices everything to give his son a better future than he'll have, up to and including having a relationship with his child.

Suddenly, I have a much more positive opinion of Jor-L.

Jor-L explains how the model craft will work. This is where the Silver Age went wrong, I think, by retconning multiple test-flights into the origin story, rocketing a dog and a chimp into space. It makes the baby-sized rocket look like the next phase in the testing process, rather than a model that was never meant to be used to carry anyone anywhere. After the chimp lives, why not make a full-sized rocket for the whole family?

Anyway, the rocket is pointed at Earth, "a planet, smaller than our own, situated on the other side of the sun." This is the origin of the idea that Krypton was "originally" meant to be in our solar system on an orbit opposite to our own, so we can never detect it. There are some serious astronomical problems with that notion, made odder by the fact that Krypton's rapid descent toward the sun never has any stated effect on Mercury or Venus. I think there's enough ambiguity and poetic license in Jor-L's description here that you can't necessarily peg Krypton's location, but regardless it's not a part of the "original" anything. We're four origins in, folks.

Jor-L explains to Lara what Earth's humans are like, how they're less developed and weaker and more limited than Kryptonians. His illustration is worth quoting:

Jor-L: Something like this: You know how far you step when you want to go somewhere?

Lara: Practically as far as I want. Why, one step takes me to Bruta's house, near the fountain.

Jor-L: Exactly. But down where I'm sending this spaceship, it's quite different. An Earthman steps only three feet at a time at most, and everything else is in proportion.

Lara: And that's where we're going? Oh, how dreadful.

Another little detail that Byrne would eventually restore: Lara's revulsion at the planet Earth. I do like Lara's romantic resignation: "It doesn't matter whether we live or die, as long as we're together." It recalls some of the poetic melodrama from the newspaper strip version.

Jor-L plans to test the rocket at dawn, watching to ensure that it reaches Earth safely. They are about to head back into the house to escape the oppressive heat, when the ground starts trembling once more due to a series of subterranean explosions. Jor-L realizes that the end has come ahead of schedule--"Oh, what a fool I've been to delay!" The other tragedy of Jor-L: despite his warnings, despite his careful studies and calculations, despite his meticulous testing, even he overestimates how much time Krypton has left. Lara asks if the model is large enough to carry one of them, then goes to retrieve Kal-L: "If one of us can be saved, Jor-L, it should be the boy!" Jor-L disagrees--he wants to send Lara. I have a hard time describing why I like this, but something about it rings true. There's something both romantic and pragmatic about Jor-L's position, and something both optimistic and maternal about Lara's. Jor-L provides the means of salvation, Lara provides the hope for the future--shocking that those two elements would go to produce someone like Superman.

On an amusing note, Jor-L can't help but get in an 'I told you so' before the end: "just as I foretold!" Take that, Rozan! They put Kal-L in the rocket and start the launch process. The house begins to sway, smoke pours from the center of the planet, while the rocket builds power. Just when Jor-L thinks it might be too late, the rocket launches. Jor-L declares that their son is on his way to Earth. Lara cries out his name: "Kal-L! KAL-L!" And the planet crumbles.

So the tiny rocketship roars into the uncharted heavens, as the mighty planet of Krypton explodes into millions of glowing fragments, glittering stars to remain forever in the night sky.

I wonder, if they hadn't said that Krypton's fragments were "glowing," would anyone have thought up the idea for Kryptonite? I'll ignore the word "stars" (and for that matter, the word "forever") here as poetic license.

As for Kal-L's ship, as the closing narration says, "Does it reach the Earth? Does it find its mark in all the far-flung darkness of space?"

I guess we'll find out in episode two. Don't miss the next installment of Superman Sunday!

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1. For example, Harley Quinn, Live Wire, Spider-Man's organic webshooters, Wolverine's claws extending from between his knuckles, Iron Man not being a jerk, etc.

2. I'm actually going through some of the radio archives, and it's very interesting to hear the intro develop. To me, anyway. I'm skipping ahead story arc by story arc, and each one gets a little closer to what I'm familiar with--adding lines, subtracting words, and interestingly enough keeping the phrase "champion of the weak and the oppressed" pretty consistently. The familiar "CRACK! Faster than a speeding bullet!" beginning and "the American Way" at the end appear to have been added in 1942, probably during one of the large gaps in my archive--or possibly introduced by one of the portrayals in other media, since the first Fleischer cartoons aired in 1941. At some point, this might be a worthwhile post or series on its own. Mental note: made.

3. Yes, "Lara," with a long "a" at the beginning (though that fluctuates throughout the episode). "Lora" is gone, presumably never to be seen again.

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Superman Sunday: Origins Master List

A brief note about legacy characters

One of the things I like most about the DCU is the idea of legacy characters. Yes, it leads to some really nasty continuity tangles and makes comic quirks (like character aging) really obvious, but I like the sense of history it provides. A superhero name, a costume, a power set, isn't necessarily something unique, but a mantle that can be passed from one character to the next, in a largely unbroken string potentially lasting up to the 853rd century. I enjoy that.

And I was exposed to it pretty early on. Some of the comics I read when I first started reading DC regularly were the Mike Parobeck JSA and the Jurgens JLA. The two issues of JSA I found featured both Wally West and Jay Garrick as "the Flash," neither of whom was the Barry Allen I knew from TV and my parents' comics, as well as Jesse Quick, who I recognized because I'd read about Johnny Quick before. There was even a guy called Green Lantern, who didn't look anything like the Green Lantern I knew. Over in JLA, there was another guy called Green Lantern, who still didn't look anything like the one I knew, but was clearly a different character. It wasn't confusing, it was intriguing: I think you hear this a lot from comics fans, but the minor characters, the legacies, the guest stars--as a kid, those are just tantalizing little glimpses at a fascinating universe with a fascinating history. It's why I loved the Official Handbook to the Marvel Universe and Who's Who as a kid, and I know I'm not the only one, but I wanted to know more about these amazing characters and what they could do.

If there's one lesson DC should have learned from comics like JSA and Flash--if there's one lesson that Geoff Johns should have learned but apparently hasn't--it's that no reasonable person gets confused by having multiple characters running around with the same name. And yet, for a company that prides itself on legacy characters with long histories, how many new-generation heroes have been sidelined or eliminated to make way for their previous counterparts? Recently, it's Firestorm, Hawkgirl, Flash, and Atom, but they're not the only ones. What about Green Arrow? Hourman? Dr. Fate? I can accept, for instance, that there's only one helmet and amulet for Fate, but what of the others? I can't say with any certainty that characters are being pushed to the sides or replaced because the higher-ups think readers aren't bright enough to understand that multiple people might operate under the same name, but I have a hard time thinking of any other reasons that this keeps happening.

I think the legacies offer a nice way to tell new stories, to expand supporting casts, to break out of ruts, and to prevent characters from being spread too thin or overexposed. And I think a lot of books understand this--Steel, Supergirl, and Superboy frequently show up as supporting characters in the Superman books; there was a time when both JLA and JLE had Green Lanterns, so Guy Gardner was on the former and Hal Jordan was on the latter; Flash frequently used the rest of the Flash family as a way to tell new stories, focusing on different Flashes or the relationships that tie them together. DC is a universe that should never run into the Wolverine problem, of one character appearing on six different teams--Barry can be the Flash of the JLA, Jay can lead the JSA, and Wally can be on the Titans or Outsiders or whatever.

Returning to the point, I think DC would be better off by fully embracing the legacies. Let some legacies be like families, working together as a cohesive cast; let others be like franchises, where different people operate in different places, so you can alternate between the focal characters and tell different stories, keeping everything fresh (specifically, I'd like to see a Firestorm book that bounced between Jason and Ronnie's different adventures); let other legacies be loose associations, joined by a Second Feature or something along those lines.

But for the love o' Pete, stop thinking that only one version of a character can have the spotlight at a time. This is a situation where you actually can please most of the people most of the time, why on Earth wouldn't you take it?

Superman Sunday: Origins (Part 1)

We'll start small today. Clocking in at just one seven(ish)-panel page, the Superman origin in "Action Comics #1" is one of the shortest on record. The thing I like about these short origins is that, while they don't offer much depth or detail, they do expose what the creators thought was most important about the character.

In that regard, this first origin story is particularly interesting. Read it for yourself:
We start with Krypton. Or, rather, we don't. Superman's home planet isn't named in this opener. We don't spend any time lingering on Jor-El or Lara or the Council or any of the other trappings of Superman's pre-Earth origins. For Siegel and Shuster, the most important part of this story was starting it quickly, getting the exposition out of the way and the protagonist into the spotlight. So we have a "distant planet" dying of "old age," and a scientist who sends his infant son off in a rocket toward Earth. Other, later stories would fill in the gaps there. "Old age" would be replaced as a cause for the planet's destruction (over and over and over), but the endpoint is always more or less the same.

There's something almost Biblical about the way the second panel's meaning has changed over the years. Just as the serpent in Genesis is never identified as Satan--that's a later interpretation--the "passing motorist" was never identified as the Kents (especially since the noun is singular). Indeed, this iteration of the origin gives Clark no human family whatsoever! Moving on through the third panel, we might conclude that Clark grew up in an orphanage, which I think would make for a very different Superman mythos: just imagine how that would have been reinterpreted in 1985.

Panel three gives us a first glimpse at one of Clark's feats of childhood strength. Strangely enough, this one doesn't get referenced much in modern adaptations--probably in part because the orphanage rarely makes it into the origin these days. I'll be interested in seeing some of the early versions of the "lifting tractor to get ball" and "lifting truck" scenes that usually fill this role. Why this scene? Well, it establishes what happened to Clark after crashing on Earth, and it demonstrates that he's always been extraordinary.

I'd also like to take a moment to note the doctor's glasses flying off. That's just good comedy.

Panel four is a run-down of Superman's powers--interestingly enough, showing Clark out of costume in all three shots. This establishes the rules of the character--rules which, of course, would be stretched beyond all recognition within 20 years or so. I find it interesting that it mentions that "when maturity was reached" he found he could do these incredible things. The idea that Superman's powers developed slowly over time, only hitting their apex when he reached adulthood, was a cornerstone of the Man of Steel reboot, and has been a part of the mythos (to varying degrees) ever since, figuring heavily into "Smallville," for instance. I think the Silver Age focused more on the image of the infant holding up the chair, leading to stories of Superman as a boy and a baby, with the same powers he has as an adult. I like that the pendulum swung back the other way, toward the blurb atop this panel, though it seems to have found a bit of middle ground since the Byrne revamp. In any case, we establish that Superman can leap tall buildings in a single bound, lift giant weights, outrun a locomotive, and withstand the impact of anything less than a "bursting shell." Whether or not a bursting shell--or something more powerful--can actually hurt him is not, as I recall, directly addressed in these early issues, though I haven't read all of them.

It's worth noting how specific some of the ability descriptions are: "1/8 of a mile," "twenty-story building," etc. I'm reminded of the old Official Handbooks to the Marvel Universe, which delighted in such scientific-sounding minutia, explicitly describing characters' strength classes by how many tons they could lift. Some comic traditions are old.

Panel five drops Clark's first name, and it's a bit confusing, to be honest. I'll cut Siegel and Shuster some slack: this is their first big work, and they've been at it for years. They're naturally going to be more familiar with the character than their audience, and I think I blame that for this "calling the character by his first name as if the audience is already aware of what his name is" flub. Here, we get the briefest explanation of our protagonist's motives (good guy: check!), and the note that he's a hero by choice, from an early age. There's a part of me that's tickled by this, knowing that Superman started as a villain, but this also sets the stage for the strong sense of morals (which don't always jive with the law) possessed by our protagonist in the early years.

The next panel is a glimpse not only of the costume, but of the way the character would be narrated for decades. Compare "And so was created... [pause] SUPERMAN! Champion of the oppressed, the physical marvel who had sworn to devote his existence to helping those in need!" to "Look! Up in the sky. It's a bird. It's a plane. It's Superman! Yes, it's Superman — strange visitor from another planet who came to Earth with powers and abilities far beyond those of mortal men. Superman — who can change the course of mighty rivers, bend steel with his bare hands, and who, disguised as Clark Kent, mild-mannered reporter for a great metropolitan newspaper, fights a never-ending battle for Truth, Justice, and the American Way." It's exposition with its own climax and denouement.

I'll note in particular a phrase that you rarely hear about Superman anymore: "champion of the oppressed." At some point, I'd like to do some really deep research into the sociopolitical sentiment and cultural mores of the late 1930s, just to get a better idea of why the early Superman enemies were mostly crooked politicians and fatcats. There's something cathartic about that even now (and something very much in line with Jewish folklore), and I wish we saw a bit more of that in modern Superman comics. It'd be a great way around the problem of Superman's small and paltry rogues gallery if he spent more of his time righting social and political ills--without, say, taking a side in political issues. Corruption is corruption.

Finally, we have what I think is the most interesting part of this page, the most striking thing about what Siegel and Shuster thought was important to include: a justification for Superman's powers. The third panel explained the origin of his abilities (highly evolved/advanced biology), which would remain intact for some time thereafter, but this panel attempts to make those abilities seem less outlandish. I mentioned above that some comic tropes have a long history; this is one of them. This is "The Science of Superman" in 1938.

It's also one more reason I'd like to better understand the cultural milieu of the time. I've grown up in an era where superheroes are commonplace in fiction, where people bending steel and flying are a typical part of suspended disbelief. I've read before that either Siegel and Shuster thought the character might be too outlandish and unbelievable to be salable, or that they had a hard time selling the character for similar reasons. I don't know how true that is, but this panel seems like it's trying to preempt that sentiment. It also makes sense of why Superman's powers steadily grew over the next several years: if people were willing to accept a man who can jump an eighth of a mile, why not a little farther? Siegel, Shuster, and the other creators (along with the limitations of radio) pushed the boundaries of suspended disbelief slowly and steadily, until we had a minor god by the middle of the century.

I suspect the power creep--and the Comics Code, of course--is a major part of why Superman's enemies shifted from human ills to sci-fi/fantasy villains. When Superman can shatter planets, it suddenly seems a bit less like justice and more like bullying for him to lead socialites down into unsafe caves to teach them a lesson. Still, DC, if you're listening, I know I'd buy a regular series starring the Golden Age Superman in the '30s and '40s. Especially if Jon Bogdanove or Dave Bullock were drawing it. As long as you're doing this First Wave stuff, doesn't it just make sense?

So that's the beginning. Depending on how you count it, seven-ish panels to establish Superman as Clark Kent, champion of those who have none, to give him a tantalizingly brief backstory, and to explain and justify some of his amazing abilities. And this is how it would remain...until January 16, 1939. And until next week, Superfans!

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Superman Sunday: Origins Master List

Placeholder

There are a few posts I'm working on, but I'm not sure when I'll be done with them. In the meantime, Graeme McMillan over at io9 has put together a list of 75 Books You Should Own for DC Comics' 75th Anniversary. In the spirit of various "which books have you read" memes, I'm just going to run-down the list with occasional brief commentary. The ones in bold are the ones I own.

• The Superman Chronicles Vol. 1
• The Batman Chronicles Vol. 1
• All-Star Comics Archives Vol. 1
• The Spirit Archives Vol. 13
• The MAD Archives Vol. 1
  
• Showcase Presents: Strange Adventures Vol. 1
  
• Showcase Presents: Bat Lash (Frankly, I didn't know this was out. Now I want it.)
  
• Showcase Presents: Sgt. Rock Vol. 1
• Showcase Presents: The Flash Vol. 1
• Showcase Presents: Justice League of America Vol. 1
• Showcase Presents: The Doom Patrol Vol. 1
• Showcase Presents: House of Mystery Vol. 1
• Diana Prince: Wonder Woman Vol. 1
• Green Lantern/Green Arrow Vol. 1 (At some point, I really should get the second volume.)
  
• Showcase Presents: Teen Titans Vol. 2
• Jack Kirby's Fourth World Vol. 2
• The Legion of Super-Heroes: The Great Darkness Saga
• The New Teen Titans: The Judas Contract (There are few books that I've almost bought more times than this one. It's perpetually in my Amazon Cart, but never in the order list.)
  
• Saga of The Swamp Thing Vol. 1
• Showcase Presents: Ambush Bug (I'm counting this one not because I own the collection, but because I own all but, like, three of Ambush Bug's appearances in floppy form. And I still might get the Showcase edition.)
  
• Crisis On Infinite Earths
• Batman: The Dark Knight Returns
• Watchmen
• Batman: Year One
• Superman: Whatever Happened To The Man Of Tomorrow
• Batman: The Killing Joke
• The History Of The DC Universe
• Batman: A Death In The Family (Get the new hardcover with "A Lonely Place of Dying.")
  
• Justice League International Vol. 1
• Animal Man Vol. 3: Deus Ex Machina
• The Sandman: Fables and Reflections
• V For Vendetta
• Why I Hate Saturn
• Enigma
• Static Shock: Rebirth Of The Cool
• Batman: Mad Love And Other Stories
• Understanding Comics
• The Invisibles Vol. 1: Say You Want A Revolution
• Starman Omnibus Vol. 1 (The Omnibus collections will probably be on an upcoming Birthday list, but I have all the older trades)
  
• Preacher Vol. 1
• Stuck Rubber Baby
• Kurt Busiek's Astro City: Life In The Big City
• Kingdom Come
• Road To Perdition
• Transmetropolitan: Back On The Street
• JLA: Rock Of Ages
• The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen Vol. 1
• Absolute Promethea Vol. 1
• The Golden Age
• The Absolute Authority Vol. 1
• 100%
• Absolute Planetary Vol. 1
• Hellblazer: Haunted
• Sleeper: Season 1
• Wildcats Version 3.0: Brand Building
• Gotham Central Vol. 2: Jokers and Madmen
• 100 Bullets Vol. 1: First Shot, Last Call
• Y: The Last Man Vol. 1: Unmanned
• The Filth
• Ex Machina Deluxe Edition Vol. 1 (I've been collecting this in the regular trades since the start.)
  
• Fables Deluxe Edition Vol. 1 (I sold the individual issues a while back, but I just haven't been inclined to buy the hardcovers yet.)
  
• Bizarro Comics
• Human Target: Chance Meetings
• We3
• DC: The New Frontier
• Green Lantern: Rebirth (I don't own the collection, but I have the individual issues.)
  
• Seven Soldiers of Victory Vol. 1
• 52 Vol. 1 (Another one where I have the floppies, but not the trade.)
  
• Wonder Woman: Who is Wonder Woman? (Ditto.)
  
• The Winter Men
• Doctor 13: Architecture and Mortality
• All Star Superman
• Water Baby
• Bayou Vol. 1
• Blackest Night (If they can count it without the trade being out yet, I can count it while owning all the issues so far.)

Overall, it's a pretty good list. I think I'd argue for the inclusion of JLA: Tower of Babel and Superman For All Seasons, and I suspect that some people would quibble over whose Hellblazer to include, but in general it's pretty comprehensive.

Warm Fuzzies

I've been so busy these past few months that I just haven't had the energy. I've let them pile up beyond belief, keeping track of the barest minimum when I get a little chance.

So I say this with the utmost sincerity: it feels great to be reading comics again.

I don't say this nearly enough

You know, for all the times I've ragged on them in the past, for all the energy and enthusiasm I focus on the competition, and for all the abuse I heap upon their current EIC, there's something that often gets left by the wayside:
I Love Marvel Comics
Maybe it's just the video games talking; maybe it's the fact that I have three unread issues of Marvel freaking Apes sitting on my desk, but I really do love Marvel Comics. Not everything about them, mind you--as you might guess, I go through periods where my love is on the down-swing, but there are a lot of things about the Marvel Universe that just hold a special little place in my heart. So, for the next few days, I'm going to wax a little poetic about the House of Ideas.

And where should I begin? Well, I've been playing Marvel: Ultimate Alliance again recently. The first time I played through, my main team consisted of Captain America, Spider-Man, Thor, and Luke Cage, who occasionally got swapped out for the Thing (though I can't quite remember why). This time around, I've been playing a bit more with some of the in-continuity teams. The X-Men are fun, since there are so many combinations, and it's been neat to watch everyone mourning the death of Nightcrawler...even when he's in my party. I do wish Cyclops weren't such a wuss, but what else is new? The Classic Avengers are fun, especially since I already keep Cap and Thor in their original costumes, and Iron Man's classic armor has better boosts than any other early-unlockable suit. I was chomping at the bit halfway through the game so I could unlock Ghost Rider and build the New Fantastic Four team, which is sadly about as effective as it looks. I still need to get the Joe Fixit outfit for Hulk so I can complete the look. As soon as I unlock Silver Surfer, I'm going to put together an erstwhile Defenders team (aren't they all?). But more than anything, I keep coming back to the Fantastic Four. In my first play-through, it seemed like Thing was the only one with anything useful to contribute, but after playing with them a bit, I see what an incredible group they really are. Johnny's fire powers are all so good that I have trouble picking which ones to keep active; Sue's force field ability and "Unstoppable Force" skill make her nigh-invulnerable; Thing has a great set of upgrades and abilities. If there's a weak link, it's Mr. Fantastic, who still has some pretty devastating attacks. Maybe it's just because I rock the game's socks, but playing as the FF has given me quite a bit of insight into why four folks with relatively tame powers can be one of the most formidable forces in the Marvel Universe.

I'll admit that as a kid, I never really got into the team. I bought the title for a short time around Infinity War (with all the doppelgangers running around) and again when Reed was "dead" and Thing was wearing a mask, but they never caught my interest. The next time I regularly bought the World's Greatest Comic Magazine was during the Waid/Wieringo years--specifically, the storyline where Dr. Doom turns his ex-girlfriend into a suit of skin-armor. Contrary to how that sounds, the book was incredibly fun, and is among the best things I've ever read by Mark Waid. The thing about the Fantastic Four that I think tends to get lost in the shuffle is that the best stories, whether they take place in the Negative Zone or the suburbs, are ones that center around the interactions and relationships between the FF family members.

And that, I think, is why the FF is the only group in the Marvel Universe who can make a transition from New York street crime to global supervillainy, to space invasions and otherdimensional entities, and do it seamlessly. They are, quite literally, the close-knit family that can handle anything. When written poorly, the Fantastic Four are just another superteam; when written well, the Fantastic Four is totally unique among comic book superheroes.

And that's pretty fantastic.

Supermonth: Super-News

So, there's some kind of convention going on on the West Coast, and all this news that totally could have been revealed at Wizard World is coming out. And it's almost all good...and a lot of it is about Superman.

First, there's New Krypton. Holy crap, am I excited about this story. I was skeptical at first, but the idea of plopping down a Kryptonian city with the population of Berkley somewhere on Earth sounds better to me the more I hear about it. And I cannot tell you how happy I am that the triangle numbers are returning. In fact, the only thing I don't like about all this is that Supergirl is getting yet another new writer. I'm enjoying the Kelley Puckett run, and I knew it was ending, but I really wish she'd get some stability. The fact that the writers have come together for a two-year plan at a Super-Summit really makes me happy and optimistic about the future of the Super-books.

Also, I like that they're using the Byrne-designed Kryptonian outfit (among others). I always liked that look.

Milestone is coming to the DCU! The old Milestone series are getting collected in trades! Dwayne McDuffie is reintroducing Icon in the pages of Justice League of America! Static may be joining the Teen Titans! Awesome all around. In fact, the only possible problem I have with this is that McDuffie's run on JLofA has been derailed by crossovers every other issue, it seems, and this might feel like another one of those. I honestly hope this ends up actually being a story arc rather than a one-off crossover preview like the Tangent Comics one.

Now I have to track down those last fourteen issues of "Icon."

There's nothing Superman-related in the announcement of an ongoing Zatanna series under Paul Dini, but I'm excited about that nonetheless. And, no offense to Zatanna, but it'll be nice to get back to Batman in Detective Comics.

Superman news a-go-go. Geoff Johns mentions Superwoman, who I imagine won't be Kristen Wells (Busiek pretty much covered that anyway), but hopefully will have something like her kickass costume. Johns gushes a bit about Lois (which makes me happy, especially given "Final Crisis" #2). It's good to hear that John Henry Irons will be appearing soon (Infinity what?); I'm ambivalent about the return of Doomsday, and well, you know how I feel about General Zod. But a return of Zod may herald a return of Chris, and I really liked Chris.

I still haven't gotten around to watching the Wonder Woman trailer (or "New Frontier" for that matter--that's part of my plan for tomorrow), but I'm excited for February regardless. About the only thing that doesn't make me happy is that they're doing a two-disc special edition of "Superman: Doomsday," which means I'll have to seriously consider whether or not the special features are worth buying the flick over again.

All in all, pretty exciting. It's a good time to love Superman. Um...unless, you know, Libra's after you. In which case, good luck.

Supermonth: Forgotten Favorites I

I've been reading Superman comics for an awfully long time now. Along the way, I've found more than a few stories that seem to have fallen through the cracks--stories that I always enjoyed, but have never been reprinted or given any particular acclaim. I'll be spotlighting a few such stories here, and I'll be starting with one that always sticks out in my memory.

"Identity Crisis"
July-August 1996
Adventures of Superman #536, Action Comics #723, Superman: The Man of Steel #58, Superman #114.

The body swap story is a staple of sci-fi and fantasy. Seems like every cartoon, most comics, and several movies get around to it sooner or later. The event is generally preceded by some variant of the phrase "you wouldn't last ten minutes in my life," and the whole thing is an exercise in seeing what it's like in another person's shoes. The status quo is restored after both parties have learned an important moral lesson that other people may not have it as easy as it looks.

Sometimes that story's fun. Sometimes it's an interesting way of exploring the characters' relationships. More often, it's a paint-by-numbers morality play. But occasionally the writers do something different with the standard plot, putting familiar characters in very unfamiliar situations and seeing how they react.

"Identity Crisis" is the latter.

After a brief introduction that establishes one of the story's themes (the trust Superman inspires in the general public), we move briskly to Brainiac, strapped to a gurney in Lovelace Psychiatric Hospital, which is apparently just outside of Gotham City. Exactly how many nuthouses does one town need? Although, if Gotham goes through wards the way that Bruce Wayne does, it's not that surprising that there'd be three or four in the vicinity.

Anyway, it appears that the Brainiac personality is dormant, and Milton Fine, the mentalist whose body Brainiac has possessed and turned chartreuse since his introduction into the post-Crisis DCU, is in control. That is, of course, until the psychiatrist briefly remarks that there's a teenager in the hospital who has delusions of being Superman. Suddenly, Brainiac breaks free of both mental and physical restraints, and hatches some devilish plan.

After making some movement with the current subplot (Lois and Clark broke up; I'm reasonably certain it's because Clark accidentally checked "maybe" on her "Do you like me?" note), Superman has to go fend off the illusion of a mental hospital flying over the streets of Metropolis. After declaring to the panicked crowds that it's not actually a hospital, but instead an elaborate illusion, multiple onlookers state matter-of-factly that they'd trust Superman over their own senses. That, ladies and gentlemen, is trust. Surely it can't be misused!

You know what happens next: Superman goes after Brainiac, Brainiac does his brainy-action, and suddenly Superman finds himself in the body of 15-year-old Chas Cassidy, a seizure-prone kid with delusions of Kryptonianism. Brainiac, naturally, has taken over Superman's form, upgrading brains from Milton Fine's fragile human model. He quickly finds out that being a Kryptonian is harder than it looks, as he can't use his telepathic mojo through Superman's skull. Not that that really helps Superman, who exits the issue in the arms of two abusive guards on his way to electroshock therapy.

Now, here's where the story could have taken a very interesting turn, exploring what effect this trauma has on Superman's own mental state, and the various problems associated with ECT, but that could very easily have become a polemic. Instead, the next issue begins with a recap, and Superman shuddering at the thought of enduring another bout with electricity that once would have merely tickled.

In the meantime, Brainiac is exploring the world with his amazing new senses and powers, but he eventually discovers that even Superman's brain has a storage limit. Playing on the public's trust, he's able to organize a massive televised conference as a front for using the Metropolis populace as a giant jump-drive.

Superman--powerless, imprisoned, thought crazy, and wracked with debilitating seizures whenever he gets particularly excited--relies on his wits, his contacts, and his knowledge of Metropolis to give the abusive guards a bit of comeuppance and escape from the hospital, beginning the trek back toward force-field-contained Metropolis. This leads to a great scene where, to avoid being recognized when his picture shows up on the news at a bar, Superman-in-Chas grabs a pair of glasses and slicks his hair back. Old habits die hard.

The story proceeds as you might expect, albeit with a great little battle and some nice character work at the end. I'll let you track it down, since my synopsis doesn't do it a whole lot of justice, and since I doubt it would cost you all that much in your local back-issue bin. There's some great art (Curt Swan and Dick Giordano!) and some very '90s art (some other people whose names I only vaguely recognize!), but the real treat is something I didn't realize until I re-read the story tonight: the writers, Tom Peyer and Mark Waid.

When I get stuff signed at conventions, I try to go for unconventional books, stuff that might stand out from the crowd. I chatted with Gail Simone about "Rose & Thorn" #1 at Wizard World this year, and I gushed at Will Pfeifer about "H-E-R-O" last year, if that gives you any indication. When I make it to a con where Mark Waid's appearing, I'm bringing this story. Good stuff.

Supermonth: Introduction

So, it's 2008. It's been 70 years. 70 Years since we first learned of our strange visitor from another planet. 70 years before we first looked up in the sky to try to make out the bird--no, the plane--no, the man of tomorrow, streaking through the air faster than a speeding bullet. 70 years since the Never-Ending Battle began. 70 years since we first believed a man could fly.

Well, not fly exactly, not at first. Back then, it was leaping an eighth of a mile and hurdling tall buildings. Still, pretty impressive, if not as easily turned into a sound effect.

In honor of that grand anniversary, I decided to dedicate a month of posts to the Man of Steel himself. And while April (the month he first debuted) and June (the month printed on the cover of his first appearance) passed by without leaving me enough time to get the ball rolling, July--the month which birthed "the American Way"--seemed the best time to do it.

So for the next thirty-one days, I'll be posting at least once daily on the Man of Steel. Some posts frivolous and fun, some more serious and in-depth, and hopefully a couple that inspire. Seems to me that would be the best way to capture a hero who has been and can be all those things.

So happy 70th birthday, Superman. Here's to 70 more!

Library Update

The Library Saga keeps on rolling. I sent the librarian my recommendations list and a handout for their first meeting (which I'll get to momentarily), and I'm working on some of the other handouts for the class (which I'll get to, again, momentarily). I'm not totally sure what I'll be presenting, really (except for a bunch of Free Comic Book Day comics courtesy of the awesome folks over at Stand-Up Comics), but I'll be giving recommendations and information as best I can.

So, when it came down to it, I split up my book recommendations into "all-ages" and "teens/advanced readers." I gave the librarian a larger list than was on the handout (didn't want to overwhelm the kids), and I left manga off...for the time being (that'll be my next recommendation). Here's my list of recommendations, indexed by appropriateness (all-ages, and the 10-12-and-up crowd), with the ones on the kids' handout marked in red.
All-Ages

• Amelia Rules
  
• Baby Mouse
  
• Batman Adventures
  
• Bone
  
• Fantastic Four: Franklin Richards
  
• Justice League Unlimited
  
• Leave it to Chance
  
• Legion of Super-Heroes in the 31st Century
  
• Marvel Adventures: Iron Man
  
• Marvel Adventures: Spider-Man
  
• Marvel Adventures: The Avengers
  
• Mouse Guard
  
• Owly
  
• Power Pack
  
• Shazam: The Monster Society of Evil
  
• Spider-Man Loves Mary Jane
  
• Superman Adventures
  
• Teen Titans Go!

Which breaks down to:

• 12 superhero comics
• 6 Marvel, 6 DC
• 6 non-superhero comics
• 4 comics with specifically female protagonists
• 10 comics related to other-media properties

Teens/Advanced Readers

• Batgirl: Year One
  
• Batman: Haunted Knight
  
• Blue Beetle
  
• Confessions of a Blabbermouth
  
• Fantastic Four Vol. 1: Imaginauts
  
• Iron Man: Enter the Mandarin
  
• Kimmie66
  
• Marvel Team-Up Vol. 1: The Golden Child
  
• Re-Gifters
  
• Runaways
  
• Scott Pilgrim
  
• Superman: For All Seasons
  
• Superman: Up, Up, and Away
  
• The Plain Janes
  
• Ultimate Spider-Man
  
• Wonder Woman Vol. 1: Gods and Mortals
  
• X-Men: First Class
  
• X-Men: The Dark Phoenix Saga

Which breaks down to:

• 13 superhero comics
• 7 Marvel, 6 DC
• 6 non-superhero comics
• 6 comics with specifically female protagonists
• 8(ish) comics related to other-media properties

I also basically gave a blanket recommendation for the Essential and Showcase lines.
I'll be bringing more to the table when I do the presentation, and I'll be sending along some manga recommendations as well, so keep the reviews and comments coming :).

Other stuff I'll be doing for this event include an overview of terminology (paging Scott McCloud) and jobs associated with comics (%&$#ing tracers), comic-related and kid-friendly websites and blogs (Comic Book Resources/Comics Should Be Good, maybe?), and a description of the process of making a comic, from idea to finished product. I think I've got a decent handle on most of that, though advice and recommendations would be great.

One thing, though: I can give a run-down on just about every job associated with comics, from penciller to letterer to colorist, but I'm a little fuzzy on how work is split up among editors. I know there's managing editors and EICs and whatnot, and somehow continuity policing and story coordination and copy correction and deciding what books come out, and when, is all part of the "editorial" province, but I'm not totally clear on who does what. Anyone a little more informed on the process? I may even drop an e-mail off to the DC offices later tonight if I find that it's a real sticking point.

Libraryin' 2: Eclectic Boogaloo

Is it just me, or have my puns steadily gotten more forced and protracted over the last several years?

Anyway, I've been thinking non-stop about this Library Presentation thing, and I thank everyone who has taken the time to comment. Please, please, please keep the comments coming.

As far as my recommendation list goes, here's what I'm basically sure of so far:
Super-Hero Comics

• Blue Beetle
  
• Batgirl: Year One
  
• Fantastic Four (Imaginauts)
  
• Fantastic Four: Franklin Richards
  
• Justice League Unlimited
  
• Legion of Super-Heroes in the 31st Century
  
• Marvel Adventures: Avengers
  
• Marvel Adventures: Iron Man
  
• Marvel Adventures: Spider-Man
  
• Power Pack
  
• Runaways
  
• Shazam: The Monster Society of Evil
  
• Spider-Man Loves Mary Jane
  
• Superman: For All Seasons
  
• Superman: Up, Up, and Away
  
• Teen Titans Go!
  
• Ultimate Spider-Man
  
• X-Men: The Dark Phoenix Saga
  
• Various Essentials (Amazing Spider-Man, Iron Man, Hulk, Fantastic Four, Avengers, X-Men, Wolverine, Ms. Marvel?) and Showcases (Wonder Woman, Justice League of America, Superman, Supergirl, Teen Titans, Legion of Super-Heroes, Green Lantern, Flash, Batman).

Other Comics

• Baby Mouse
  
• Bone
  
• Mouse Guard
  
• Minx: The Plain Janes
  
• Minx: Re-Gifters
  
• Owly
  
• Scott Pilgrim
  
• Star Wars Tales

Manga

• Azumanga Daioh
  
• Inu-Yasha
  
• Naruto
  
• Sailor Moon
  
• Yotsuba&!

And here's what I'm less sure on. Most of this is stuff I've either never read, or haven't read in quite some time, so I can't remember (or don't know) how accessible or appropriate it is. I'd appreciate anything and everything that you can give me as far as quick reviews, yays and nays, or counter-recommendations. I'd like to represent as much as I can of the big guns, especially the ones with recent or upcoming movies or other media presence.

Superhero Comics

• Wonder Woman: Down to Earth (Greg Rucka trade; I'm thinking next best thing to Gail Simone)
  
• Iron Man: Enter the Mandarin (I'd like Iron Man to be well-represented on the list, but I haven't read much. I know people were excited about this when it was announced; did it turn out to be good/appropriate?)
  
• Batman and the Monster Men (haven't read it yet; how is it for the budding Bat-fan?)
  
• Other Batman, Iron Man, Spider-Man, X-Men trades.
  
• Other trades with some sort of diversity to 'em.

Other Comics

• Amelia Rules (what's it like?)
  
• Blue Monday (Adam Ant? I think I'm gonna have to read this!)
  
• Leave it to Chance (is it in print still?)
  
• Little Vampire
  
• Minx (What's good? I've only read the first two titles.)
  
• Patrick the Wolf Boy
  
• Queen Bee
  
• Sardine in Outer Space (what's it about?)

Manga

• Gon (I remember that this was kind of a big deal a decade ago, and I notice trades are still in print. Is it as good as the Wizard hype suggested?)
  
• Dragonball (too violent? Too graphic?)
  
• Galaxy Express 999
  
• Bleach (how's the violence?)
  
• Abenobashi
  
• What else?

I've been reading oodles (which has given me quite a bit to blog about--look for Scott Pilgrim and Re-Gifters reviews soon) for this, and I really appreciate all the advice. You've all been fantastic, and I can't thank you enough for the help. This comic book club thing is going to rock.

Oh, one more thing: I've been asked about all-ages-friendly comic sites and blogs. Obviously the company sites will make the cut, but what else?

Libraryin'

So, apparently my hometown library is going to be doing a summer course sorta thing on comic books, and I've been asked to provide advice, recommendations, information packets, and some kind of presentation.

Anyway, you all know where my expertise lies by now. If the kids want to talk about the big names, I'm all over it. Superman? Ask me anything. Spider-Man? Just you try and stump me. Batman? Don't make me laugh.

Unfortunately, I've hit two snags in my thinking on this subject. First, I want to be all-ages-friendly, but I haven't exactly been keeping up with many of the specifically all-ages titles (Marvel Age, Johnny DC, Minx, etc.), so I'd like you all to offer suggestions as to what's good--especially with Minx.

Second, I'm totally out of my depth when it comes to manga, and that's likely to come up when I'm talking to a 10-and-up group of young'uns. So any advice on what's good/appropriate would be very welcome.

Off the top of my head, this is what I'd be recommending:
Blue Beetle (first trade)
Wonder Woman (Gail Simone? That's not out yet, but Heinberg's is)
Superman: "For All Seasons," "Up, Up, and Away"
Teen Titans Go!
Legion of Super-Heroes in the 31st Century
Marvel Age: Spider-Man
Marvel Age: Iron Man
Marvel Age: Avengers
Justice League Unlimited
Spider-Man/Human Torch
Fantastic Four: "Imaginauts"
Runaways Vol. 1
Batgirl: Year One

I'm also hoping to keep it pretty gender-balanced--as much as I can, anyway. I'd like to put Birds of Prey on the list, but I want to go with a trade that's accessible and not full of T&A art. I'd like to put Manhunter on there, but I'm going to have to re-read the first trade from the POV of a ten-year-old. So, what are your thoughts?

Spoil Sport

Let me just say that I love this cover trend. The "spoil the big surprise that happens on the inside" trend, I mean. It's not common, but this issue of Manhunter and the issue of 52 that revealed Supernova's identity really hit it hard.

Retailers are complaining, and rightly so, about Marvel's treatment of them with the whole Captain America #25 fiasco. If retailers had known in advance (say, around solicitation time) that the issue would be the subject of a media blitz, would contain the death of an American icon, and would contain what many are calling the "real ending" of Civil War, they would have ordered far more copies of the book than they did. As of now, everyone is sold out, and the speculator market which has driven the price of copies on eBay over a hundred dollars will have all but disappeared in two weeks' time when the reorders arrive. Marvel apparently "had no choice" but to keep retailers in the dark, and some are rightly calling shenanigans.

The last time there was anything near this level of media coverage for a comic book event was with the Death of Superman (with little blips at Superman's wedding and the start of Civil War, and a somewhat bigger blip with Superman's power change). Retailers knew well in advance not only that Superman was going to die, but which issue would contain the death. When I heard about it, my dad took me down to whatever the local comic shop in Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio, was in 1992, and we got put on a waiting list for Superman #75. As far as I'm aware, there were plenty of copies to go around (which didn't stop them from skyrocketing in value, for awhile), and there was still a huge amount of media attention on the event.

What would Marvel have lost if they'd told retailers "in this issue--Captain America falls"? It doesn't spoil the ending of "Civil War" (Cap could die in victory or defeat). It doesn't tell you anything about how he dies. It only tells you "hey, order more of this issue."

Well, that's a lie, or at least an oversimplification. I know that if I'd seen that in the solicits three months ago, I would have thrown up my hands then and said "that's it, no more Marvel, this is bull$%*!" as I more or less did yesterday. And I'm sure I wouldn't have been alone in that regard. But that's just a further consequence of this problem of the neverending event. Whether we discovered this yesterday or three months ago, it would have felt just as tedious and unnecessary. They've made themselves so dependent on The Event, that last-page twist, that it takes precedence even over the people buying comics, even over the need to attract more buyers, even over the goodwill of the retailers who distribute the product.

And that is what I so love about this cover-spoiler trend: it takes the focus, and thus, the pressure, off of that last-page reveal, that cliffhanger, that twist, that Event. But when you remove the immediacy and urgency from the Event, when you take that twist away, what are you left with? What fills the void?

Well, my friends, the same thing that caused me and countless others to head to their comic stores and purchase Superman #75. The same thing which led people yesterday to seek out a star-spangled superhero when they've not picked up a funnybook in years. The same thing which should take precedence in any and every comic: the story. I may know that Superman is going to be dead by the last page; what I want to know is how he got that way. The fun part of the Supernova mystery isn't the reveal, it's the months of speculation and deduction and guessing and second-guessing that led to it. The important part of Blue Beetle's return isn't that he's alive again, but how he got that way and whether or not it really actually truly is him. The important part of the Event is the story leading up to it. When the ending, the twist, the last-page reveal is the important part, it's the sign of an otherwise hollow, empty story. It's why M. Night Shyamalan films are so flimsy, why Marvel's output has been so creatively thin; yes, there's something to be said for the surprise, but The Empire Strikes Back is a good movie whether or not you know that Darth Vader is Luke Skywalker's father. The destination's nice, but what's really important, as any fortune cookie or kung-fu sensei will tell you, is the journey.

There are two things to really admire about the cover-spoiler, then. The first is the sheer ballsiness of it: it says "yeah, there's a shock here. We could milk that, but we feel so confident about the story that we don't care about the shock value." It drips confidence. And the second is that it recognizes the harsh-yet-optimistic truth of comic book fandom: we all already know how it's going to end. When you pick up an issue from Marvel or DC, of some hero who's been around forever, you know that they're not going to die from falling off that cliff, you know they're not going to really leave their costumes in the garbage can, you know that the villain, laughing triumphantly on the last page, is going to get his comeuppance. Because deep in our hearts, we know the basic truths about shared-universe superheroics (one-shot stuff like Watchmen or Elseworlds can play with this a bit):

1. The good guys always win.
2. The bad guys always get away...eventually.
3. Dead never means dead (except when it does).
4. No matter what, the status quo is always restored (more or less).

And so on. We know when we buy Superman #75 that there's going to be a #76. And despite Joe Quesada's protesting too much, we know when we see Steve Rogers take three bullets to the gut that he's going to get better. The cover-spoiler recognizes that basic fact of superhero comics: we've seen it all before, and whether or not we acknowledge it, we know how it's going to end, in nearly all cases. Putting Blue Beetle or Booster Gold on the cover is the author's way of making a silent, understood deal with the reader. "Here, I know that you know how it ends," says the cover. "But come along for the ride. We'll have a blast." There is some truth to that dismissive "once you've read one superhero comic, you've read them all," but that's not necessarily a bad thing. The writers open up the toybox and say "here are the toys and here are the rules, and we're going to put them back in the box when we're done, but in the meantime we're going to have some fun."

This isn't to say that there's no innovation in superhero comics, nor is it to say that there shouldn't be. But to deny that we're working with a fairly well-defined set of conventions is ludicrous. Different superhero comics may look to uphold or defy or subvert or twist those conventions, but all are influenced by them, all must recognize them, in some fashion. Half the fun of reading superhero comics is seeing how they'll play with the conventions, how they'll twist things around and surprise you.

And the other half? It's seeing bullets bounce off of Wonder Woman's bracelets. It's seeing Batman descend, cape extended, from the shadows. It's seeing Wolverine say "I'm the best there is at what I do, bub." It's seeing Captain America bounce his shield off the heads of half a dozen Hydra soldiers. It's seeing Superman save the day. It's seeing exactly what you expect to see, exactly what you buy superhero comics to see, it's seeing the moments that make you want to tie a towel around your shoulders and wear Underoos. It's when all your critical faculties suspend and all your maturity experiences antigravity, and for a moment, you might believe that you can fly.

And those are the Events that really matter.