Comic-Con Part II
Back-story:
I don’t remember when I first “found” comic books, but it must have been somewhere around 1976 when Star Wars first came out. I don’t remember what comics I first read. Who bought my first comic? My mom? My stepdad? Me? No clue.
I do remember when comics became magic. When the Capps family took a bunch of us neighborhood kids to Zeno’s comic book store anticipation mounted minute by minute for the oh so long (about 15 minutes) drive there. A bunch of snot nosed suburban kids piled into a Suburban (back before the entire nation of the United States decided to create an oil crisis by driving no vehicle that got more than 12 miles to the gallon) headed off to spend our weekly allowances. What were we going to spend our unearned money on? Decisions had to be made. If I buy and read Micronaughts will so-and-so then trade me for The Hulk. Or should I get Fantastic Four and after reading it trade for The Avengers? Marvel comics were the brand of choice. No one in my little neighborhood of ranch style homes and neatly manicured lawns, my little universe, at that time read DC Comics. You were an instant pariah if you mentioned it. “DC means Dumb Comics,” was always the first words heard (because as children we are so witty) if someone mentioned Superman or some such DC title.
Early on we were taught the insidious idea of “collecting” comics. We learned to bag and board and protect the comics from any damage. All reading was done ever so carefully as to not damage the mint condition we acquired the issue in. One day these little books would be worth vast fortunes (oh, beautiful capitalist dreams!). And the weekend ritual of alternating parents driving us week in week out to Zeno’s continued. Through cold, wind reddens your cheeks winters, polleny time to start mowing the grass springs, sultry stay indoors from 11 to 2 it’s just too hot summers to the leaves are all kinds of wonderful reds, yellows and browns falls the trips and purchases continued. As our appetites for consumption and storage of these beauties increased our unearned allowances sadly did not. Soon we were mowing lawns, raking leaves and cutting firewood (depending on the season) to get more money for these treasure we would hide and horde and one day (when we were nice and old, like say, maybe twenty) sell and retire with the fortune we’d made by reading glorious tales of Superheroes and keeping the delicate, slender tomes in “mint” condition.
Along with collectability came “trading.” Most children are involved in some form of trading, from comics to baseball cards to whatever it is that tickles the fancy of your little crowd. Trading is and art. It is early business school. Each participant has to win the trade while making the other feel that they received the better deal. Pretty heavy stuff for 10 year olds, eh!? I don’t remember who came out ahead most often in my little crew, but I’d bet it was Tim; he’s become the best businessman I know. Then again, maybe he got all the bad deals out of his system young and learned the lessons some of us are still learning.
You can tell a lot about a person by the comic books they read. Tim was a Spiderman guy; he knew what he wanted and was focused. Mark was The Avengers. All Captain America and Iron Man (before Tony Stark went through that whole drunk phase) and patriotism rah, rah. Mark is the kind of patriot all Americans should be. I was an X-Men guy (issue 94 and after. The first 93 issues need to be collected worldwide and bound together and titled “The X-Men almost save the day, are almost killed by the villain, but Professor X shows up just in the nick of time and saves the day,” then tossed into the Ocean and we can get on with the stories where Chris Clairmont kept Professor X busy and the X-Men had to fight for themselves.). X-Men fans, like their mutant minority friends usually feel (however unnecessarily so) a slight alienation and injustice in the world. Eric was the bold one who let us mercilessly chant “DC means Dumb Comics,” again and again and broke the mold by reading Teen Titans. I’ve lost touch with him, but he took a different path than the rest of us and I hear is a highly successful Hospital Administrator. The characters from these books inspired countless debates (before we were worried about taxes, corporate governance, the environment, death penalty, etc.) over lunch room tables and on sports fields or in backyards. Who’d win in a fight (and it did matter that your chosen hero would win!), Kitty Pryde or Vision? Wolverine or Hulk? Silver Surfer or Dr. Strange? If you see the comics we read and heroes we followed, and then view how each us are now, there are no surprises.
Somewhere along the way the same old superheroes against villains started to get thin. Gee, will the X-Men beat the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants again? Duh! And even though we didn’t read DC Comics, Lois get a clue… Clark Kent is Superman! And for me, The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles changed everything. In issue 8 or so there was a “guest appearance” of a character named Cerebus. An aardvark?! And next thing you knew I was reading all kinds of stuff – always bagging and boarding and keeping them in the best possible condition – from Fish Police and Adolescent Radioactive Black belt Hamsters (a beautifully shameless take of you know who) to weird non-continuous books like the Kafkaesque “Ashes.” And of course, to this day I am still working my way through Cerebus (hey, I know already! I said it before and I’ll say it again, “It took Dave Sim 25 years to write the dang thing, even at my snails pace I’ll finish reading it in half the time!”).
Then, somewhere along the way I started reading Kafka rather than a Kafkaesque comic. Macbeth beat out Magneto. Martin Amis provided all the angst I’d ever need. Dang it, I grew up.
Luckily for me my wife, through the Japanese’ almost insatiable appetite for manga got me back into comics. I reentered through Monkey Punch’s “Lupin the 3rd.” From there I started reading Tezuka, and on and on.
Present day:
This revitalized interest in a story format from my youth led me to revisit the comics of my youth. I had recently reread the older X-Men (issues 94 and on – you know what needs to be done with issues 1-93!). I then wanted a new (to me) story to follow monthly. {Other than television and early movie matinees, there is a scarcity of serialized fiction. Rather odd since some of the literary greats – insert Charles Dickens here – used just this format to tell their wonderful tales} Since all of the comics of my youth continued generating mythology even while I was off doing “more adult” ventures, it would be hard to get into a story and catch up on 12-16 years worth of back story. So, I found a relatively new series and jumped right on in and let the storytellers and artists take me for my monthly journeys. Fun stuff. Now I’m back on the hunt for more new material to gobble up on relaxing days off of work.
So, hopefully you read my post regarding my adventures at San Diego’s Comic-Con 2006. After suffering through lines no one should ever have to stand in for admission to anything other than those much vaunted “pearly gates” (yes, we’re back with religions references) and battling dehydration only to be saved by an angel of a person, my friend Ikoi, I was able to gain entrance and get some new (at least to me) comics for my reading please over the next few weeks. I found some where the art grabbed me and it appears that the stories will be as good to boot. Here’s the run down. Kabuki by David Mack (he did art for Daredevil by Marvel as well). The first book I picked up is “Circle of Blood” which has a contrasty black and white artwork, but following volumes the style of art and even mediums used change depending on the storyline. I actually bought the books from Mack himself. He was a nice, unassuming character interested in my interest in his work. Refreshing. Wildflower by Billy Martinez. This is another black and white production, but there is excellent shading giving the art depth and the feel of color. Shi by William Tucci (with an introduction to the volume by none other than Chris Claremont – oh, savior of the X-Men). There was a black and white volume available at an excellent price with lots of issues covered in it, but since the original series was in color I decided to spend a bit more and see the artist’s (and their team’s) true “intentions.” I’ll give a review of these in the next few weeks once I’ve had ample time t swim through their glorious oceans.
Lastly, let’s never forget my dues ex machina, the one and only Ikoi. She picked up a volume for me by one of her favorite artists, Douglas Paszkiewicz (how do you think spell-check reacted to his last mane?). The series is Arsenic Lullaby and the volume is “The Donut Cometh.” I never would have picked it up on my own. The art is not “bad” by any means, but it is not the type which would normally grab my attention. In fact, at times it appears almost as if a teenager who’s not quite sure which direction his style will take has drawn the book. Oh, beautiful deception! This is irreverence at its best. I read the entire volume over four sups of coffee on my porch in a single sitting. NOTE OF CATION: If a voodoo witch doctor names Voodoo Joe who leads an army of zombie fetuses (just one of many continuing stories in the collection) would offend you, this is one to stay away from. However, if you want to see just how low in humor one can go and still have you laughing, but not sick, this is one great book. The style of art is genius because it presents the material in a visually palatable manner.
Also, I recently read in two days Danger Girl: The Ultimate Collection. The story is the summer movie Hollywood has owed of for decades, but never followed through on. J. Scott Campbell’s artwork jumps off the page and he draws the women all red blooded men the world over have always wanted to see, but the proportions just aren’t physically possible in nature. As far as some kick-ass, gun a Porsche up past 150 headed to the edge of a cliff summer reading goes, this is the goods!
And now… The POINT. It doesn’t have to be comics. You’ll know what it is for you. Whatever it is that inspired you as a child, consider revisiting it now as an adult. You might find, like I have, a new appreciation of that pass-time and your childhood. It could also provide a richer understanding of your self now as an adult. Look back with fondness and look forward with childish dreams.
I don’t remember when I first “found” comic books, but it must have been somewhere around 1976 when Star Wars first came out. I don’t remember what comics I first read. Who bought my first comic? My mom? My stepdad? Me? No clue.
I do remember when comics became magic. When the Capps family took a bunch of us neighborhood kids to Zeno’s comic book store anticipation mounted minute by minute for the oh so long (about 15 minutes) drive there. A bunch of snot nosed suburban kids piled into a Suburban (back before the entire nation of the United States decided to create an oil crisis by driving no vehicle that got more than 12 miles to the gallon) headed off to spend our weekly allowances. What were we going to spend our unearned money on? Decisions had to be made. If I buy and read Micronaughts will so-and-so then trade me for The Hulk. Or should I get Fantastic Four and after reading it trade for The Avengers? Marvel comics were the brand of choice. No one in my little neighborhood of ranch style homes and neatly manicured lawns, my little universe, at that time read DC Comics. You were an instant pariah if you mentioned it. “DC means Dumb Comics,” was always the first words heard (because as children we are so witty) if someone mentioned Superman or some such DC title.
Early on we were taught the insidious idea of “collecting” comics. We learned to bag and board and protect the comics from any damage. All reading was done ever so carefully as to not damage the mint condition we acquired the issue in. One day these little books would be worth vast fortunes (oh, beautiful capitalist dreams!). And the weekend ritual of alternating parents driving us week in week out to Zeno’s continued. Through cold, wind reddens your cheeks winters, polleny time to start mowing the grass springs, sultry stay indoors from 11 to 2 it’s just too hot summers to the leaves are all kinds of wonderful reds, yellows and browns falls the trips and purchases continued. As our appetites for consumption and storage of these beauties increased our unearned allowances sadly did not. Soon we were mowing lawns, raking leaves and cutting firewood (depending on the season) to get more money for these treasure we would hide and horde and one day (when we were nice and old, like say, maybe twenty) sell and retire with the fortune we’d made by reading glorious tales of Superheroes and keeping the delicate, slender tomes in “mint” condition.
Along with collectability came “trading.” Most children are involved in some form of trading, from comics to baseball cards to whatever it is that tickles the fancy of your little crowd. Trading is and art. It is early business school. Each participant has to win the trade while making the other feel that they received the better deal. Pretty heavy stuff for 10 year olds, eh!? I don’t remember who came out ahead most often in my little crew, but I’d bet it was Tim; he’s become the best businessman I know. Then again, maybe he got all the bad deals out of his system young and learned the lessons some of us are still learning.
You can tell a lot about a person by the comic books they read. Tim was a Spiderman guy; he knew what he wanted and was focused. Mark was The Avengers. All Captain America and Iron Man (before Tony Stark went through that whole drunk phase) and patriotism rah, rah. Mark is the kind of patriot all Americans should be. I was an X-Men guy (issue 94 and after. The first 93 issues need to be collected worldwide and bound together and titled “The X-Men almost save the day, are almost killed by the villain, but Professor X shows up just in the nick of time and saves the day,” then tossed into the Ocean and we can get on with the stories where Chris Clairmont kept Professor X busy and the X-Men had to fight for themselves.). X-Men fans, like their mutant minority friends usually feel (however unnecessarily so) a slight alienation and injustice in the world. Eric was the bold one who let us mercilessly chant “DC means Dumb Comics,” again and again and broke the mold by reading Teen Titans. I’ve lost touch with him, but he took a different path than the rest of us and I hear is a highly successful Hospital Administrator. The characters from these books inspired countless debates (before we were worried about taxes, corporate governance, the environment, death penalty, etc.) over lunch room tables and on sports fields or in backyards. Who’d win in a fight (and it did matter that your chosen hero would win!), Kitty Pryde or Vision? Wolverine or Hulk? Silver Surfer or Dr. Strange? If you see the comics we read and heroes we followed, and then view how each us are now, there are no surprises.
Somewhere along the way the same old superheroes against villains started to get thin. Gee, will the X-Men beat the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants again? Duh! And even though we didn’t read DC Comics, Lois get a clue… Clark Kent is Superman! And for me, The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles changed everything. In issue 8 or so there was a “guest appearance” of a character named Cerebus. An aardvark?! And next thing you knew I was reading all kinds of stuff – always bagging and boarding and keeping them in the best possible condition – from Fish Police and Adolescent Radioactive Black belt Hamsters (a beautifully shameless take of you know who) to weird non-continuous books like the Kafkaesque “Ashes.” And of course, to this day I am still working my way through Cerebus (hey, I know already! I said it before and I’ll say it again, “It took Dave Sim 25 years to write the dang thing, even at my snails pace I’ll finish reading it in half the time!”).
Then, somewhere along the way I started reading Kafka rather than a Kafkaesque comic. Macbeth beat out Magneto. Martin Amis provided all the angst I’d ever need. Dang it, I grew up.
Luckily for me my wife, through the Japanese’ almost insatiable appetite for manga got me back into comics. I reentered through Monkey Punch’s “Lupin the 3rd.” From there I started reading Tezuka, and on and on.
Present day:
This revitalized interest in a story format from my youth led me to revisit the comics of my youth. I had recently reread the older X-Men (issues 94 and on – you know what needs to be done with issues 1-93!). I then wanted a new (to me) story to follow monthly. {Other than television and early movie matinees, there is a scarcity of serialized fiction. Rather odd since some of the literary greats – insert Charles Dickens here – used just this format to tell their wonderful tales} Since all of the comics of my youth continued generating mythology even while I was off doing “more adult” ventures, it would be hard to get into a story and catch up on 12-16 years worth of back story. So, I found a relatively new series and jumped right on in and let the storytellers and artists take me for my monthly journeys. Fun stuff. Now I’m back on the hunt for more new material to gobble up on relaxing days off of work.
So, hopefully you read my post regarding my adventures at San Diego’s Comic-Con 2006. After suffering through lines no one should ever have to stand in for admission to anything other than those much vaunted “pearly gates” (yes, we’re back with religions references) and battling dehydration only to be saved by an angel of a person, my friend Ikoi, I was able to gain entrance and get some new (at least to me) comics for my reading please over the next few weeks. I found some where the art grabbed me and it appears that the stories will be as good to boot. Here’s the run down. Kabuki by David Mack (he did art for Daredevil by Marvel as well). The first book I picked up is “Circle of Blood” which has a contrasty black and white artwork, but following volumes the style of art and even mediums used change depending on the storyline. I actually bought the books from Mack himself. He was a nice, unassuming character interested in my interest in his work. Refreshing. Wildflower by Billy Martinez. This is another black and white production, but there is excellent shading giving the art depth and the feel of color. Shi by William Tucci (with an introduction to the volume by none other than Chris Claremont – oh, savior of the X-Men). There was a black and white volume available at an excellent price with lots of issues covered in it, but since the original series was in color I decided to spend a bit more and see the artist’s (and their team’s) true “intentions.” I’ll give a review of these in the next few weeks once I’ve had ample time t swim through their glorious oceans.
Lastly, let’s never forget my dues ex machina, the one and only Ikoi. She picked up a volume for me by one of her favorite artists, Douglas Paszkiewicz (how do you think spell-check reacted to his last mane?). The series is Arsenic Lullaby and the volume is “The Donut Cometh.” I never would have picked it up on my own. The art is not “bad” by any means, but it is not the type which would normally grab my attention. In fact, at times it appears almost as if a teenager who’s not quite sure which direction his style will take has drawn the book. Oh, beautiful deception! This is irreverence at its best. I read the entire volume over four sups of coffee on my porch in a single sitting. NOTE OF CATION: If a voodoo witch doctor names Voodoo Joe who leads an army of zombie fetuses (just one of many continuing stories in the collection) would offend you, this is one to stay away from. However, if you want to see just how low in humor one can go and still have you laughing, but not sick, this is one great book. The style of art is genius because it presents the material in a visually palatable manner.
Also, I recently read in two days Danger Girl: The Ultimate Collection. The story is the summer movie Hollywood has owed of for decades, but never followed through on. J. Scott Campbell’s artwork jumps off the page and he draws the women all red blooded men the world over have always wanted to see, but the proportions just aren’t physically possible in nature. As far as some kick-ass, gun a Porsche up past 150 headed to the edge of a cliff summer reading goes, this is the goods!
And now… The POINT. It doesn’t have to be comics. You’ll know what it is for you. Whatever it is that inspired you as a child, consider revisiting it now as an adult. You might find, like I have, a new appreciation of that pass-time and your childhood. It could also provide a richer understanding of your self now as an adult. Look back with fondness and look forward with childish dreams.
posted by Sam Barboo at 9:04 PM
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