Author: Ryan

Anyone who’s ever been in a relationship has probably come to a point when they just wanted to say “fuck it, this isn’t worth it.”

Maybe it’s a long-simmering conflict over spending time with someone’s parents, or maybe it’s just a stupid argument over what movie to see that spiralled out of control. But at some point, you consider the possibility that it would be easier to just start over.

Of course, it would be easier. Short-term, anyway. But three or four years later, you’re just in the same place again, arguing over vacation plans or bacon bits. Which is why that impulse is not one that should be followed lightly. At the same time, it’s not one that should be completely ignored, either; sometimes a relationship really isn’t worth all the work you’re putting into it. There’s no point sticking with it if you’re going to continue to make each other miserable.

Many people have a fairly intimate, committed relationship with comics. Or, at least, comic book characters. It’s understandable: You grow up with these characters, so unpleasant changes can be as hurtful as finding out your best friend is a heroin addict or the Grand Dragon of the local KKK. (Technically, that’s not the least bit true, unless you are completely bereft of perspective and common sense. But I’m working with metaphor and allegory here, so you’re going to have to bear with me.)

So, you ask, is it worth it? What sort of trauma should it take for you to break your 320-consecutive issues of Amazing Spider-Man? At what point should you decide that Dan Didio is just using you for sex? Or that Grant Morrison is also using you for sex, but at least it’s really good sex?

And so, bearing in mind my own recent personal issues and some of the things I’ve read on the internet (which is always a source of insightful and rational commentary), I present you with Ways to Differentiate Comic Books from Relationships with Actual Human Beings:

• It is not a good idea to complain about your girlfriend on the internet. Maybe you can get away with bitching about having to go and watch Hugh Grant movies, but you really don’t want to blog about how you’re not getting any sex this weekend because it’s that time of the month. You will look like an ass, and there will be serious, possibly phyisical, consequences.

  In contrast, you can bitch about your comic books all you want. Occasionally Mark Waid will come along and threaten to beat you up, but generally you’re in the clear. You still have the potential to look like an ass or an anal-retentive ninny, but at least there will be no real-world consequences.

• Comics are a one-sided relationship. If you’re bothered by the cleanliness of your boyfriend’s kitchen, you can have a conversation about it. You can ask him to clean more often, he can agree or not, you can find some sort of compromise.

  Comics don’t listen, though. You can write letters and start petitions and stand in the middle of the highway wearing a Green Lantern costume, but your chances of affecting any real change are very slim. For the most part, you can either take it or leave it, whether your problem is the criminal underuse of Kilowog or the fact that your favourite book continues to feature Michael Turner covers of inflateable sex dolls that managed to bypass the Quality Control office and then were left sitting in the sun for a couple days.

  The only thing most comic book publishers will listen to is money. If this is also true of your relationship, you should probably consider the possibility that you are not headed towards a fairy tale ending.

• Comics will always let you see other comics. With people, this is a much trickier proposition.

  It’s true that there are certain relationships that could use a break. Maybe one person has issues they need to work out, maybe things have degraded to the point where a break is the only option; you need time to figure out if this is really what you both want. But it’s delicate, and very nearly impossible if you aren’t both on the same page. “I want to date other people and then come back to you if they’re not good enough” is a pretty tough thing for most people to take.

  Comic books, however, are promiscuous little whores with no standards or loyalty whatsoever. They want as many people as possible reading them, and they don’t care who or why. You want to read them because you’re doing your thesis on the evolution of the graphic medium? They’ll take your money. You want to read them because you like Power Girl’s boobies? Your money is just as good. Possibly better.

  You can read five, ten, or a hundred comics at a time. You can dump them whenever you want, and they’ll still be there waiting for you when you want to come back. (Well, some of them might not be. But if the book was mediocre, do you really care if it gets cancelled? Unless you’re one of those people who believe you should support a crappy book so it continues and eventually the publisher will reconsider the direction and turn it into the book you want to read? If you’re one of thos people, you’re beyond help.)

• If The Ultimates is late, you are mildly inconvenienced. If your girlfriend is late, you are well and truly fucked.
• “There are other fish in the sea” is a lame cliché when applied to a relationship. It’s technically true, but it’s not like catching fish is all that easy to begin with; you can catch all rock bass you want using a piece of bark for bait, but catching a salmon fit for a feast is considerably harder. (This is probably a weird metaphor, particularly considering I’m a vegetarian. I do, however, know an avid fisher, so I’ve absorbed quite a bit over the years.)

  On the other hand, finding another, better comic to read is easy. Just walk into a decent comic shop or book store and take a look around: There are tons of great books out there, and the only bait you need is, once again, a bit of cash. Also a good comic store, of course, but by the same token I suppose it’s easier to meet people in a big city than in some small town in the middle of nowhere. Unless you’re getting fixed up with your cousin, which is probably another metaphor I could apply to superhero comics, were I not already well over my metaphor quota.

Comic books may be art and entertainment, but they still matter. If something is worth being happy about, it’s probably worth being upset about. However, they don’t matter that much, particularly when they suck. There’s no benefit in continuing to read a book that frustrates or disappoints you. Dump it, have a few one-night stands, and then figure out what you want to do.

People are more difficult to deal with. I have no advice at all for dealing with them. None at all. We’re all just crazy people running around and bumping into other crazy people. Sometimes you can bump into someone else in a way that pleases you. Try and do that, but not literally, and certainly not at the supermarket.

It’s too hot for original thought. Thankfully, we can revisit the past; that always takes less effort.

That was a wee bit snarky, perhaps, but I have to admit I’m kind of interested in the apparent return of Valiant Comics. At least, I’m interested in what it might lead to.

Reprinting Harbinger is a pretty good start. It wasn’t a great book – certainly not “classic and beloved”, as claimed by Valiant Marketing Guy Chip Carter – but it was a fun teen superhero book, the sort of thing Marvel used to be really good at 25 years ago: Alienated teen superheroes on the run from an evil corporation and fighting off space aliens.

The new Jim Shooter story – an origin of villain Toyo Harada – doesn’t excite me terribly. It’d be nice if they could have grabbed original series artist David Lapham to draw it, but that’s hardly a dealbreaker. I’d probably pick up the new hardcover if I didn’t already own the trade of the first 6 issues.

Mind you, Jim Shooter kind of bugs me. For instance, there’s this quote:

“Basically I learned it all from Stan (Lee). In those early days of Marvel it’s what he did (there)…he made continuity when no one else was doing continuity. He had everything related as much as he could.”

That pretty much sums up what I can’t stand about many superhero books these days, though perhaps he wasn’t envisioning Civil War or Infinite Crisis. At any rate, the early Valiant books actually did this sort of thing very well: There was plenty of overlap, and the occasional crossover, but for the most part books stood on their own.

As I said, I find the Valiant revival more interesting for what it could lead to: Specifically, I want a nice hardcover collection of Archer & Armstrong, which Barry Windsor-Smith started with Shooter and then continued (quite ably, and probably better than the first couple of Shooter issues) on his own. It was a perfect example of the sort of thing Valiant did so well: A quirky and unique kind-of-superheroey book that had ties to other books but mostly just did its own thing.

Some of the other Valiant books would be worth a reprint, though probably not in hardcover. Solar and Magnus: Robot Fighter had some interesting stories, though I believe their rights are somewhat complicated. Shadowman was a cool book, though I haven’t read it in years and I’m not sure how well it would hold up; perhaps my memories are just tainted by the Aerosmith team-up, though. Rai was a pretty neat idea, too, though the Bloodshot extension just seemed to turn into another Punisher template.

Valiant comics seem to get separated into two categories, neither of which is entirely accurate: Many of the early Shooter issues are nigh-deified, while later books fall into the generic “90s Crap” group. While it’s true Valiant got very bad very quickly, they started off quite well: Not revolutionary or even particularly original stories (with a few exceptions), but good, solid superhero stories. It’s worth revisiting, if not exactly worshipping.

It’s somewhat surprising that North American comics have never really tried to adapt the action movie. Oh, superheroes are generally action-based, but the dramatic structure often feels more in line with a soap opera than a big Hollywood blockbuster; The Losers is the only book from DC or Marvel that manages to approximate that approach. And while I’m not much of a fan of most Hollywood blockbusters, even I must admit that there is a time and place for telling a story by way of blowing shit up.

Song Ji-Hyung’s XS Hybrid does most of the things you want in a good action movie: People hit each other, shoot each other, and drive motorcycles really fast. Exactly why all this is happening is not entirely clear, but it’s enough, for the time being, to know that it all happens very fast and very frequently.

The key concept, which is only really explained towards the end of this volume, is that foreign (alien?) entities sometimes inhabit and hide within a human body. They can take control when necessary, granting their human host special abilities; some of those abilities remain when the entity leaves. Which means that we get an opening sequence featuring a mysterious man beating the tar out of an elite team of armed and armoured guards.

With that brief introductory violence out of the way – it doesn’t exactly explain what a hybrid is, but it covers what they can do in a fairly stylish fashion – Ji-Hyung gets about to the meat of the book and the two main characters. Mina is a young woman who’s generally quite normal, aside from the fact that she once sent a boy into a coma just by looking at him. That boy is Chang, who now spends his days riding his motorcycle, getting into fights, and looking after Mina.

First a punk, who seems a little too strong and fast for his own good, comes looking for Mina. Then a hybrid shows up to help out when Chang’s not quite up to the task. And then an American special ops team shows up with an interest in both Mina and Chang.

And from there, there’s all sorts of punching, kicking, and car chases. Ji-Hyung hasn’t written a story with a lot of depth, but he has created one that lets him show off some impressive action sequences; while he’s an okay writer, his real strength is the art. XS Hybrid is a great looking book: While some of the early fisticuffs are impressive, a motorcycle chase towards the end of the book is nearly worth the price of admission all on its own. And if the hybrid looks just a bit too generically manga-ish (spikey blonde hair, tall, skinny, sunglasses), I’ll forgive it because Chang and Mina are drawn so well.

There’s still some plot dangling at the end of the first volume – the last few pages read like the intro to the next volume, as opposed to the finale of this one – and I’m not convinced the “hybrid” idea has a lot of depth. Thus far, it mostly a plot device, though a very good one: It’s an excuse to show off people doing lots of cool things. In many ways, XS Hybrid reminds me of the Matrix films: An interesting, if unoriginal, central concept that allows for some exciting action sequences. And thankfully, no one in this book has become a Christ figure or attempted to explain the nature of existence.

It’s not high art, but it’s a fun ride.

(You can check out a short preview at Dark Horse’s site.)

From Marvel’s September solicits:

HEROES FOR HIRE #14
Sure, WORLD WAR HULK is awesome. But you know what’s missing? CATFIGHTS!
TARANTULA VS SCORPION! Can the Heroes For Hire pull the ladies off one another in time to figure out what the HECK is going on with Humbug?

MS. MARVEL #19
It’s Ms. Marvel vs. Tigra… cat fight! Why is the leader of the Mighty Avengers battling a host of female heroes? What craziness are new Initiative teammates Machine Man and Sleepwalker up to? And who is pulling all of their strings?

I love a theme month as much as anybody, but I’ll be holding out for Wet T-Shirt Month, thank you very much.

Of course, when you’ve got Greg Horn doing covers, every month is Wet T-Shirt Month.

ETA: Adding to the silliness: Marvel can’t seem to decide if “cat fight” is one word or two. Perhaps Heroes for Hire needs the extra emphasis only ALL! CAPS! can provide because the cover doesn’t suggest any sort of grappling vixens.

Newsarama has a nice story on the return of Frank Miller and Dave Gibbons’ Martha Washington, who makes a comeback next month in Martha Washington Dies.

I read a couple of the older Martha Washington stories, and it’s pretty interesting stuff: The character work is fairly restrained for Miller, and even the political angle is toned down, or at least presented more playfully than one expects from Miller. It is, I suspect, where Miller took all his idealistic and fun superhero ideas; it certainly predates his raving loony period, and managed to escape his current “Hard Core Noir!” period. And Dave Gibbons has done some great work with the character, a soldier in a war of technology that doesn’t always work. Of course, it’s been ages since the creators worked on the character, so who knows exactly what we’ll get?

The Martha Washington books are surprisingly obscure and underappreciated considering their creative pedigree. I’d say you should check them out, but they’re mostly out of print (Dark Horse has this sort of problem.) I don’t know exactly what the back issues are fetching, but they’re worth looking into. Perhaps the best is the Happy Birthday, Martha Washington one-shot, a wonderful tribute to the recently-deceased Jack Kirby.

There is light at the end of the reprint tunnel, according to editor Diana Schutz:

In 2008, we are doing The Life and Times of Martha Washington in the Twenty-First Century. It’s an oversized hardcover, slipcased edition, collecting all the Martha-related stories, along with some significant additional material, like preliminary sketches and designs.

Granted, a giant hardcover omnibus may be a bit pricey for a relatively obscure book. But I think it’s a great idea, anyway, and hopefully Marth Washington Dies resurrects some interest in the character.

I have fond memories of Marvel Comics Presents. Well, not fond, exactly. I remember it was the book that had some Wolverine stories in it, though I don’t remember what any of them were about. And there was a Colossus story by Rick Leonardi at one point. I have some memories of Marvel Comics Presents, and that’s got to mean something, right?

Anyway, I’m still interested in the official announcement of the return of Marvel’s anthology. Not, you know, excited or anything, but interested. In fact, 90% of my enthusiasm is reserved for Stuart Immonen’s Hellcat story, because Immonen is pretty darn awesome and I have no interest in reading Ultimate Spider-Man.

It’ll be interesting to see if the book can survive: An anthology with relatively low-profile creators and fringe characters doesn’t exactly look like it’ll set the direct market on fire.

There is, however, the Serious Continuity pitch, which actually turns me off the series a bit. According to editor John Barber:

MCP is firmly set in the Marvel Universe. You want to see what Stingray is up to? MCP. What Civil War meant to Man-Thing? MCP. There are some new faces in the crowd at MCP, but it’s all operating in the Marvel Universe we know and love.

Are there really peole who want to know what Civil War meant to Man-Thing? And if so, why aren’t they being rounded up and sterilized?

But Stuart Immonen is awesome, so what the heck.

There are two entirely different standards for evaluating Joss Whedon’s return to Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The first, I should warn you, involves a total loss of objectivity, but I think I can make up for it with the second.

As a new Buffy story, it’s hard to complain about Season Eight: It’s a new Buffy story. It’s by Joss Whedon. Perhaps it’s not of the calibre of Season Five, but it’s a pretty darn good Buffy story. It feels like Buffy: The dialogue, the characters, the mood, the pacing… it all feels like Buffy.

Buffy and Xander are particularly well depicted, with Xander’s assumption of an almost Watcher-like position working nicely. As always, he doesn’t have any particularly useful skills, but he’s assumed an almost command role under Buffy, organizing things and providing emotional support and various witty remarks and pop culture references; a conversation with a Slayerette in the first issue of the virtues of Nick Fury and his Howling Commandos versus Nick Fury, Agent of SHIELD is particularly well done.

And if that’s not enough nerding-out for you, Andrew shows up in the second issue to really kick things up a notch with some thoughts on Lando Calrissian.

Buffy and Dawn continue to bicker as is their wont, though Dawn is whining like it’s Season Six again. (I finally liked the character in Season Seven, when Whedon started writing her like one of the Scoobies.) Buffy is, of course, fairly central to things, though some of her narration seems a bit off: “Great Muppety Odin” would sound fine coming from Xander, but is pretty out of place for the Buffster. And “Balls” is right out, even if it’s a dream sequence.

The only flaw on the character front is the Slayerettes, who continue to be a bit interchangeable. There’s the one who talks to Xander (and I could look up her name, but the fact I have to sure isn’t a good sign), and Satsu, who’s apparently the best but is rather inconsequential up until #4 (and if I’m reading the hints right, she’s even more important than being the best fighter). It’s possible that having an entire army of slayers is diluting things too much; perhaps limiting Buffy to a relatively elite squad would help Whedon focus on two or three individuals.

It probably shouldn’t surprise anyone that the characterization and dialogue is excellent, but it’s reassuring: This opening arc proves that Whedon is genuinely interested in carrying on the Buffy epic, and not just flittering about. He’s learned a thing or two about pacing since I read his work in Astonishing X-Men: The last-page reveal in issue three would give Brian K. Vaughan a run for his money. It wouldn’t be inaccurate to compare the first four issues to a single TV episode in terms of story, but each issue is written as an individual issue, and each stands on its own quite well.

But while the character work is lovely and the pacing is generally effective, there are some significant flaws with the structure of the book. The aforementioned Andrew sequence is fun, but it serves no purpose beyond being a funny sequence; he has nothing at all to do with the opening story arc. His second appearance, in the third issue, is even more gratuitous and hammers an old joke into the ground. Giles is similarly unnecessary, appearing seemingly only for the sake of having Giles appear. At least he attempts to move things forward in the third issue, but it’s space that could have been put to better use.

Like explaining a bit more of Ethan Rayne’s role in the story. When last we saw Rayne, he was being hauled off by the Initiative after annoying Giles in Season Four. But Whedon has dragged him out of obscurity to play a fairly major role in the story, and put him right back there at the end. While his ultimate motive becomes fairly clear, his role isn’t; this is a guy who’s been, at best, an annoyance, and yet he spends most of the third issue acting like Buffy’s Guardian Angel.

The fourth issue, given over to action and a confrontation with the bad guys, consequently feels a bit rushed. While the Big Bad is a very nice decision (though there are some complications I shan’t get into here), the final scenes could use more depth. There’s some deal going on between Willow and some apparent elemental spirits that doesn’t get nearly enough explanation, to say nothing of a rather confusing introduction.

Which brings us to Georges Jeanty, the artist for the opening arc. I don’t think I’m familiar with any of his previous work, but he does a nice job with Buffy. He manages to capture the likenesses of the characters without attempting awkward photo-realism. He’s got a fair sense for action, and does some very nice character work, matching up with Whedon’s dialogue very well. He has a good bit of talent for comedy, too. On the whole he’s a solid and professional artist, if not a superstar. The only significant flaws come in the fourth issue, which feels a bit rushed; the aforementioned introduction to the elemental spirits is poorly laid out. He has a tendency to go low-detail on background faces, which works well in some of the funnier scenes, but detracts from some of the serious action pieces.

It’s probably worth noting that Jeanty suffers by having to follow Jo Chen’s fantastic covers. They’re just… wow. Fantastic. Gorgeous stuff, and very few interior artists could live up to that.

The Buffy fan in me is thoroughly enjoying the book, even if the critic and comic book reader is finding a few things that drag the story down. My fondness for the characters will go quite a ways, as long as the quality stays at least half-decent. With Whedon just warming up, and Brian Vaughn taking over for a story about Faith in #6, I have high hopes.

It’s Buffy, you know? How could I not love it?