Author: Ryan

It’s entirely possible to be too cynical.

That will likely come as a startling admission to those who know me. Nonetheless, I’ve been fairly overwhelmed by the skepticisim and outright hostility that’s arisen out of DC’s announcement of their new line aimed at young girls.

With any publicity and promotion, there’s going to be BS. And sure, the idea that a publisher is doing anything innovative or creative by marketing comic books to teenage girls is fairly silly, as evidenced by the growing number of publishers successfully. But it has to be expected: It might be more honest to say “We saw lots of other people making money off this audience and we wanted to get in on it”, but that’s just not going to happen.

And yes, DC has enlisted a hot, teen-friendly marketing agency to help launch the books. While I’m naturally skeptical of anything to do with marketing and publicity, it nonetheless shows a commitment to the product that hasn’t always been seen when superhero publishers want to try something new. It certainly beats publishing the books and then hoping that 13 year-old girls wander into a comic shop while engaged in a scavenger hunt or something.

Most of the hostility has surrounded the genders of the creators of the books: Only two female creators are involved in the line to this point, and one of them, Louise Carey, is co-writing with her more established father. Again, some cynicism is understandable, as it does seem a bit odd that there are so few women working on books targeted at a female audience.

But in looking at what the line isn’t, many seem to have missed out on what it does have to offer: A group of very talented writers and artists, many of whom have already produced books that could be successfully marketed to the Minx demographic.

Let’s start with Andi Watson. I’m having a hard time coming up with any creators, male or female, as perfect for this as Watson. This year alone he’s written Paris, a sweet love story, and written and drawn Little Star, a very cute story about a new father. Throw in Love Fights, even though it has superheroes, and you’ve got a writer who’s almost perfect for young adults. Also, his name kind of looks like he might be a woman; is that a plus?

Mike Carey might be best known for his more mature Vertigo work and his increasing work with superheroes, but he’s also the author of My Faith In Frankie, which is just the sort of story I’d recommend to nearly anyone. That he’s teaming up with Frankie co-creator Sonny Liew for one of his Minx books is just icing on the cake.

Throw in some art by Jim “Street Angel Totally Rocks” Rugg and Aaron “Serenity Rose is also pretty awesome” Alexovich and you’ve got a pretty talented lineup.

Should there be more women among that talented lineup? Perhaps. But there aren’t all that many women (or men, it must be said) who are that good at writing this sort of material. Many of them, like Chynna Clugston and Hope Larson, have deals with other, larger publishers. There are plenty of women working at Tokyopop, but how many would be willing to abandon a publisher that’s already successfully selling to young women in bookstores for what is, at this point, still an expensive experiment on the part of a company that publishes predominantly superhero books?

It’s possible that the lack of female creators working on these initial Minx books isn’t due to any institutional sexism, but simply the fact that nothing could be worked out at the time. I’m not so naive to believe that women can’t be sexists, but there’s nothing I’m aware of that would convict editors Karen Berger or Shelley Bond of this. They certainly haven’t shown any reluctance to hire women at Vertigo: Denise Mina is writing what is probably the Vertigo flagship, while Pia Guerra and Becky Cloonan are both drawing successful creator-owned books. Jill Thompson and Colleen Doran have both done plenty of high profile work for the imprint.

It would be nice if there were more women working on the books, but barring evidence to the contrary, I’m content to believe that this is just the way things worked out for the time being. Minx is launching with bunch of very talented writers and artists who seem perfectly capable of producing work that would appeal to a young female audience. (Disclaimer: I am neither young nor female, and may be wrong completely. But I think Chynna Clugston would be perfect for it, too, and Scholastic clearly agrees with me. So there.) Perhaps this is the excuse of a sexist pig, but the fact Minx is hiring some of the best creators and spending a lot of money on promotion is good news, and the lack of female creators is merely an unfortunate coincidence.

Amidst a lot of stupid crap, DC is doing something good, and they seem to be committed to doing it well. That deserves praise, not mockery.

(Okay, a little bit of mockery. But get it over with and move on.)

So Jimmy Robinson’s piece You Are Not Helping Comics over at CSBG has resulted in a small bit of consternation.

Robinson’s premise – though it’s hidden in a fairly rambling and unfocused column – is essentially that comics are awesome but comic fans should read everything, not jus a few select titles. Not only that, but they should take an active role in promoting the medium by recommending books to friends, family, and co-workers.

He makes a pretty decent point. That the direct market is pretty fucked up is hardly a penetrating insight, but word-of-mouth marketing can be an incredibly effective tool. While some movies get massive advertising budgets, others have to start small and work their way up – Borat is probably the most profitable film of the year, and it didn’t receive anywhere near the promotion of a major studio release. It had its North American debut at the Toronto Film Festival’s Midnight Madness programme, which is typically home to underdog & low-budget films.

Then again, I’m also skeptical of the “street teams” put together by some bands – particularly those targeting a young teen audience – that puts some of the advertising burden on its fans, encouraging them to request songs at radio stations and pimp the band on Myspace or whatever. Enlist a huge, occasionally influential group for the price of a few CDs and t-shirts? Somewhere between sleazy and brilliant.

Still, I try: I recommend and loan books to friends, though I’ve only ever met with limited success; the only sure-thing convert I ever made was an ex-girlfriend. Most people react with interest, but seem unlikely to ever look for something on their own.

But that’s neither here nor there, really. Robinson is right: Fans can help make comics more successful. It goes without saying that having a MySpace page and asking fans to friend you isn’t much of a marketing strategy, but every little bit helps.

The main problem with Robinson’s argument, though, is where he talks about the diversity of the market. Of course, there is no diversity in the direct market. Most comic stores are happy to carry only Marvel & DC superhero books, along with the odd book based on a license from an 80s toy line. That’s not a terribly welcoming environment to new readers. It’s all very nice to ask retailers to carry a wider range of books, but I’ve heard plenty of stories about stores not ordering anything that deviates from their usual slate. What’s more, even if they do order a copy of Historical Indie Adventures, it’s more than likely to be one copy for that one customer; people who work on the assumption that comics=superheroes aren’t likely to change their belief system.

And in this case, Robinson is not helping. I should say that I’ve never read anything by Jimmie Robinson before, so I have no opinion on whether he’s the next Alan Moore or the next Rob Liefeld. But on the face of it, his books don’t seem to be terribly diverse: Bomb Queen is probably one of the most stereotypically fanboy-ish books I’ve seen in a while, Tarot notwithstanding. And while he worries that “too many are walking lock-step to select titles and not taking advantage of everything comics has to offer”, he doesn’t seem afraid to cash in on the completist collector mentality by doing a What If: Wolverine book. I can’t blame him for wanting a solid paycheck, but let’s face it: He’s benefitting from the mentality he says is hurting comics.

Robinson means well, and he’s obviously enthusiastic about the medium. That’s great, and I’m sure he’s a nice guy, regardless of the books he writes. But he doesn’t get his point across clearly, and he doesn’t seem like the right guy to be writing about diversity and the wide world of comics. He’s not hurting comics, but he doesn’t seem to be helping nearly as much as he wants everyone else to.

… and neither do I.

He’s obviously mighty and powerful, but he also looks kind of down. The captions say “I rule!” but the body language says “Can I go back to bed?” I feel the same way; sometimes it’s just too much of a chore to rule the Earth.

Obviously plenty of people have come here via Comics Should Be Good, so some people have already read this, but others can go and read my guest piece on John Ostrander’s Firestorm that I did last week. Ripoff of Superman IV and Swamp Thing, or sister-title to Suicide Squad and prelude to Spectre? You decide.

(Actually, no, you don’t get to decide. My judgment is fairly authoritative.)

I picked up DC’s Phantom Stranger Showcase a couple weeks ago, and it’s a pretty entertaining read. It can be pretty hokey, and you’re obviously not meant to read more than one or two stories in one sitting, but it’s still fun: The Phantom Stranger is a cool character, and there are some nifty Neal Adams covers. It also features one of the biggest losers in comic book history: Doctor Thirteen.

He means well. He tries to protect people from sham artists and con men trying to cash in on fear and superstition. But this naturally sets him against the totally mysterious and mystical Phantom Stranger — though they always seem to team up reluctantly in the end — and he just can’t win.

Doctor Thirteen, of course, is a guest-star in The Phantom Stranger. He’s not appearing in That Guy Who Pretends to be a Phantom But is Just a Janitor with a Smoke Machine. Granted, the Stranger isn’t a totally out-there spook – most of the time, he’s just mysterious. But the whole point of the book being The Phantom Stranger and not Scooby Doo is that there are mystical, magical menaces out there.

Consequently, Doctor Thirteen, rational fanatic as he is, ends up looking like a complete ninny as he tries to explain away the obviously magical stuff that’s always going on. It would be one thing if he were some sort of lame villain or foil, but he’s actually a good guy, part of a crime-fighting odd couple. He’s just a really, really lame one.

Is it too much to ask him to mellow out? To adjust his position just a little bit, so that maybe most supernatural occurrences are frauds (the Phantom Stranger exposes frauds too), but accepting that there actually are freaky, unexplainable, supernatural things out there? Like, say, the star of the book?

I suppose it is.

This weekend, I did something I never thought I could do.

I threw out some comics. To be entirely accurate, I recycled them, as I am an environmentally concious sort. But it still feels like I’ve done something wrong.

I am, by nature, something of a packrat. I don’t throw things out unless I’m absolutely certain I’ll never need it again, or if it’s taking up too much space. Consequently, I often walk around with a wallet full of old movie tickets, receipts, and expired coupons, and my apartment is full of dubiously organized newspapers, magazines, more receipts, and flyers I never got around to throwing out. And, much to the chagrin of my girlfriend, lots and lots of comics sitting about in boxes and random piles.

Most of them are still there, of course. But I found a bunch of stuff that I’m never going to read again: Books that were cool for a week or two after they came out, or were issues I picked up to sample. Plenty of first issues and new storylines. Some of them are actively sucky, while others are just unmemorable. They’re mostly pretty scattered, rarely more than one or two consecutive issues of a series, and aren’t worth nearly enough to go to the trouble of selling them off on eBay. Most of them aren’t appropriate, or interesting enough, for donating to a children’s hospital or something.

Throwing out comics seems even more egregious than throwing out other random crap, but I’m not sure why. Obviously the collector mentality hangs off many readers, telling us that these are valuable items and should be preserved and protected. But as anyone who read comics in the 90s knows, that’s pretty much crap; 99.9% of the books I own have no value beyond that which I assign them. I’ve long since given up bagging and boarding, aside from the highlights of my library. Books I want to re-read long-term are usually in trade format when it’s available.

So this is perhaps the final farewell to any last vestiges of the collector mindset that may have been hanging on. Yeah, I’m throwing out comics. So what? They’re only paper.

After a far-too-long absence, Mike Allred’s Madman is returning, moving to Image, and the entire series to this point is being collected in an 852-page omnibus.

Granted, that $125.00 cover price is pretty high, but not too high for one of the best superhero comics ever published. Not that many newbies will be likely to experiment with that price tag, but if you love superheroes, you should read Madman. This is on my must-buy list, even if I have most of the Dark Horse series in single-issue form.