I'm a 22-year-old man, and I read comics.
That feels good to get off my chest. It's as if I've been harboring a horrible secret for so long, and I can finally breathe easy.
But maybe it isn't such a big secret. After all, my roommate reads more of them than I do. And I have really in-depth discussions with some of my friends about the latest Marvel story line, or what Neil Gaiman gets up to when he isn't freaking us out. I'm not that much of a minority.
So why do I feel a little like I'm admitting to a social stigma when I tell you folks that I read about super heroes for a conservative 30 hours a month? It can't be the length of time; I freely admit that I spend more time doing that than in class. I'm pretty sure it isn't the super hero part, because I get the same blank reaction from non-comic-folk when I mention Maus as when I mention Spiderman. I'm forced to ask myself: is it the medium itself?
Let's quantify some things first. That "blank reaction" that I mention isn't anything malevolent. I'm not getting threats for having an honest opinion on Superman's flight vs. jumping debate. Instead, it is simply a blank reaction, a dismissal.
Second, I am a remora. I am a catfish. This column is written by a bottom-feeder. I will read ANYTHING. So I'm not going to delineate between comics, comic books, comix, or whatever. The definition I'm working with here is sequential pictures and text. If anyone reading this gets their panties in a bunch about me lumping Krazy Kat in the same category as Batman, please...don't tell me about it.
Why are comics considered such an inconsequential medium? We go to art museums to see the same kind of compositions framed and popped onto a wall. Most comic illustrators these days draw a lot of influence from a classical Greek style of anatomical artwork. They went to art school. They know their stuff.
The same is true for books, and writing in general. Obviously we don't have any problem with the written word, and most comic writers are well trained at their craft. It seems more that when there is a meeting of text and pictures, the general public automatically decides that the result is no longer a valid artistic medium.
To be sure, there are bad comics out there. I could list ten real stinkers that are still in print right here. But, you know, I've read bad books, and I've seen some real bad art, and I haven't decided that literature and painting are wastes of time.
Maybe the problem is that the most public comic books seem to rely on spectacle rather than being spectacular. That is to say Marvel and DC, the big names, are stuck in a bit of a pit at this point, unable to find much new to say about characters and sets of superpowers that have been around for decades.
Like a near-dead junky, neither company can find a healthy vein to tap. For a point of reference and a fun fact, the Punisher is currently 61 years old.
That isn't grounds for a general dismissal, though. Instead, liken comics to literature. Imagine if Ken Kesey had followed Chief Bromden after he escaped from the mental hospital in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. Four decades down the pike, I'm willing to bet Kesey would have run out of ideas for his character.
The best books these days are finite, and that goes for both comics and novels. I read about superheroes for escapism. I read things like Transmetropolitan and The Spirit because the stories are amazing and the characters are well imagined.
When I finish something that I can call a "graphic novel," I feel like I've finished reading a book. I think about what I've learned, if anything. I ruminate on my favorite moments and ideas. By contrast, when I finish Hellboy or Absolute Power, I just feel jealous. (Although A.P. is sick.)
My point is pretty simple, I suppose. There's a lot of bad stuff out there, and that's as true for comic books as it is for anything else. But you have to root through the dirt for a comic truffle. Go to a comic book shop and ask for recommendations. Find something you like, and then come find me. We'll nerd out together.
