Comics That Changed Me: Street Angel#1

Up to 2004, I don't think I could have articulated my feelings on comic books from small publishers, but I believe now that I held a few prejudices against them. Obviously smaller publishers get a lot less press than Marvel, DC, Image or whoever else; they lie in the back of the Previews catalogues, they're less likely to have advertising at stores and less likely to have reviews or interviews at websites. They also don't carry many big name creators, with many of the most talented writers or artists at small publishers eventually using their modest success there to springboard into Marvel, DC or Image, leaving them behind.

The most obvious sign of a small publisher tends to be black & white interiors. To an outsider, it insinuates that the material must be cheap or inferior to what the major companies produce, otherwise they could afford to colorize it (ie, black & white is not a creative decision when used by small publishers).

I never actually formed these thoughts, but they must have lurked within me. In retrospect, it's the only reason I can think of for avoiding the small publishers for as long as I did. Eventually, a comic came along which shattered my resistance: Street Angel#1.

Writers: Jim Rugg & Brian Maruca. Art: Jim Rugg.

Street Angel is a homeless teenage girl who is an exceptional skateboarder and martial artist. When a band of ninjas hired by Dr. Pangaea (the world's most deadly geologist) kidnap the mayor's daughter, only Street Angel can save the day!

It was because of the glowing reviews online that I took a gamble on Street Angel. This was my first encounter with publisher Slave Labor Graphics and I kept up with Street Angel all the way to the end (it lasted 6 issues). I've seen Street Angel touted by some as an example of how a book which receives major critical acclaim is unable to translate that into a successful continuing property.

However, in my eyes Street Angel was a major success; Slave Labor went on to publish Rex Libris which became one of my all-time favourite comics, ensuring that I would continue to judge comics by their own merit, regardless of publisher or colorization .Most importantly, Street Angel helped me accept that I could take up comics from off the beaten path and enjoy them; that black & white comics aren't just for aging hippie comix fans. I've also remained very interested in Jim Rugg's work, whether on his Street Angel follow-up Afrodisiac or his Captain Kidd story in Next Issue Project.

I suspect that most comic book fans are already very satisfied with what they read and know where to get more of the things they like; if they're happy just reading Marvel, DC, Image, etc., more power to them. But to those who want material which might be a little more challenging and a lot more personal than what the major companies put out, it's so worthwhile digging through the small publishers. There's certainly a lot of hit-or-miss in those Previews back pages, but when you find a hit like Street Angel it's wonderful.

Next time: becoming a professional; was Gruenwald right when he said "If your hobby becomes your profession, find a new hobby?"

Comics That Changed Me: Y: the Last Man#1

For the remainder of this series the emphasis is going to shift from content to, of all things, branding. By 2002, I was fairly certain of what I wanted from my comic books. I was scraping by on my own, making my presence on the internet, making internet friends who shared my comic book interests and keeping well-informed on the state of the comic book market.

For most of 2002, I was still rationing myself to a select few titles and all of them were Marvel Comics. I was (and am) heavily invested in the Marvel Universe and its trappings, so it made sense to spend my meager funds there rather than commit to any other fictional universes.

But around the same time my fortunes began to improve, I became better acquainted with some long-time local friends, a few of whom were comic book fans. Although we could speak to each about comic books in that way that people who aren't into the medium can't understand, we didn't share too many interests in common.

I vividly recall the the day one of my friends was reading Y: the Last Man, a newly-launched title from Vertigo. He remarked to me by way of half-hearted recommendation, "It's a good book, but I know you don't like things that are good."

So, that stung.

I was aware of Y: the Last Man prior to this episode thanks to my internet browsing. when I read Randy Lander & Don MacPherson's review of the first issue I thought it sounded like a great concept for a series. Then I put it out of my mind. After all, it wasn't Marvel.

Some of my hesitation to Y was also based on the Vertigo label. I simply didn't buy comics which held a "mature readers" warning. I knew it would mean gore, nudity and/or profanity and I simply wasn't interested in seeing those elements in my comics.

But, oh, how my pride had been wounded; so I took action:

Writer: Brian K. Vaughn Artists: Pia Guerra, Jose Marzan Jr.

After a mysterious event which kills every other man on Earth, the last surviving male - Yorick - sets out to find answers, restore order and hopefully save humanity's future. But mostly he travels around in a post-apocalyptic wasteland making quips with his pet monkey.

It wasn't easy getting started on Y: the Last Man because issue #4 was already out by the time I decided to take the plunge. Those early issues were scarce at the start as rave reviews took comic book sites by storm and it took some work to find copies still on sale.

As I said, the content isn't what's important in this case; I read Y: the Last Man for a few years, then got tired of it and gave up. But this was where I broke out of my Marvel-only ghetto mindset, as well as overcoming my hesitation to pick up mature readers books. Since I returned to comics in 1997, I had vowed to myself that I would spend my money on comics that I enjoyed, not purchasing anything out of a sense of obligation or speculation. Looking for quality material had led me as far as Vertigo; in the following installment, the other shoe drops.

Next time: small publishers - threat or menace?

Comics That Changed Me: Dr. Strange Classics #2

I've already mentioned that by the time I resumed following comic books in 1997, my town's comic shop had gone out of business. While I frequented convenience stores and gas stations to collect the few new titles I was interested in, I'd always had a love for back issues. Finding that comics were now almost $3, back issues became even more attractive to me - more bang for my buck. Also, having felt burned by a lot of the titles I bought in the 1990s, I tried to support quality titles with my dollars and quality seemed to be brimming over in the previous decade.

Fortunately, when the local shop went out of business they sold their stock to a sports card shop. The supply was mostly 80s titles which I'd gone over dozens of times in the years I'd been there, but with so few options and my tastes ever-evolving, I scoured the boxes again to see what caught my eye.

In terms of back issues, I was (and am) particularly fond of reprints as a way of seeing old/classic stories at an affordable price. I owned only a handful of genuine Silver Age comics, so finding a cheap Silver Age reprint always felt like a minor victory. At the time, trade paperbacks were few and far between and mostly expensive. But the market for Silver Age material produced some interesting books in the 1980s direct market; such a book was Dr. Strange Classics, a four-issue mini-series which reprinted a classic set of stories from Strange Tales by Stan Lee and Steve Ditko. In the local shop, I found issues #2-4.

Writer: Stan Lee Artist: Steve Ditko

This is a truly epic tale in which Dr. Strange's top foes Dormammu & Baron Mordo join forces. Dr. Strange is alone, with Mordo's agents hunting him across the globe. Outnumbered and overpowered, Strange has to use his wits to stay alive and find the secret of "Eternity" to stop Dormammu.

Dr. Strange Classics had a few things going for it beyond the material itself. Each issue had a wraparound cover by John Byrne & Al Milgrom, doing their best Ditko impression. The comic itself was printed on top-quality paper, better than the original printing. The stories were also recoloured vibrantly by Christie Scheele, meaning that, among other things, there was issue-to-issue consistency on the colours of the cast's clothing.

Prior to Dr. Strange Classics I had seen Steve Ditko's artwork in a few places (mostly on inventory stories from Marvel Comics Presents). However, this reprint series is where I fell in love with his work. Perhaps the recolouring in this series helped, but Ditko's oustanding panels with odd angles and bizarre landscapes would have won me over regardless. However, I can pinpoint the exact panel where I became a Ditko fanatic, and it's nothing too elaborate:

Specifically, it was the details in the background of these castle scenes, the weird statues barely glimpsed around the edges of the frame. This entire storyline had great moments which expanded Dr. Strange's world, with Strange's allies and enemies lurking around every corner. When Strange would meet some old friend we'd never seen before, Stan's dialogue would refer to a preexisting relationship we knew nothing about. Similarly, Ditko's backgrounds hinted at other stories to be told, from the decor of Sir Baskerville's castle to the ever-lovin' Sanctum Sanctorum itself. The world as drawn by Steve Ditko seems like a larger place.

Soon after reading these stories, I found the first volume of Essential Spider-Man, a new series of Marvel trade paperbacks which offered Silver Age stories on cheap paper for less than $1 per issue. The Essentials quickly supplied me with the Silver Age tales I thought I'd never obtain, notably those Ditko issues of Amazing Spider-Man.

So far I've talked about how I became a Marvel fan, stayed a Marvel fan, quitting comics, coming back to comics and becoming a follower of art. But there was one major step I needed to take as a comic book fan...watch for more in subsequent entries.

Comics That Changed Me: Imperial Guard#1

The 1990s are considered one of the lowest points in comic book history. Much of this poor reputation has to do with the collapse and near-destruction of the direct market, but it also has a lot to do with the perceived quality of the typical 90s comic. Because there was such a boom in the first half of the 90s - not only increasing the number of titles being published but the very number of publishers themselves - it led to a lot of sub-par material seeing print just to fill up shelf space, all in a misguided belief that the customers had bottomless wallets and infinite forbearance.

However, I don't think enough credit has been given to those titles in the latter half of the 90s which tried to stem the tide and produce quality work. In particular, there was a strong effort from writers like Alan Moore and Kurt Busiek to reexamine old storytelling models and pay homage to the past; it's sometimes referred to as "reconstructionist" super hero comics.

I've already described how I lost interest in comics, but by 1997 I started to cautiously ease myself back into the hobby. This was a little problematic for two reasons: first, the local comic shop went out-of-business during the crash, so outside of scouring local gas stations and convenience stores (which I did), I had to journey to a city (the nearest an hour's drive away) to be certain I kept up with my favorite titles; second, I was saving up for college and for the first time in my life had to be mindful of my bank balance, for before too long, I wouldn't have my parents covering my room & board.

So, with the reconstructionist movement gaining ground by 1997, it was a pretty good time for me to get back into comics and rediscover why I loved the medium. That's why my first great purchase was...Imperial Guard#1?!

Writer: Brian Augustyn. Art: Chuck Wojtkiewicz, Ray Snyder.

The Shi'ar Imperial Guard are sent to Earth in an effort to bolster the ranks of Earth's heroes (the Avengers & Fantastic Four having been lost at the end of the Onslaught crossover in '96). The eight-man squad of Guardsmen suffers from internal strife as their blue-skinned Kree warrior conscript Commando isn't happy to be serving the Shi'ar, conquerors of his people. But the Guard quickly finds a menace they're well-suited to combat when the Underground Militia begins waging war on super heroes.

So...the Imperial Guard. They were originally an in-joke, modeled after DC's Legion of Super-Heroes and usually appeared during X-Men stories set around the Shi'ar. Hence, this oddball three-issue mini-series earned an "X" in the above corner box, identifying it as part of the X-Men family.

I liked the idea of an Imperial Guard comic book in part because I liked the Legion of Super-Heroes. I hadn't read DC comics in years, but had fond memories of the Silver Age Legion reprint stories I had owned (and purged in '95) and the few Levitz-Giffen issues I had (also purged).

I was also drawn to the Imperial Guard because I really disliked the "Heroes Reborn" concept which was occurring at the time. Heroes Reborn sent the supposedly-dead Avengers & Fantastic Four to a new world where popular Image creators could reboot their histories. The Guard, however, was set in Marvel's usual continuity and used Onslaught as a way to kick start the series concept; there's even an appearance by three of the Avengers who didn't wind up in Heroes Reborn, firmly planting this in the real Marvel Universe.

I also had a bit of a shock when I saw the way Imperial Guard was coloured; it may not mean much to you now, but the computer colouring process which took over comics in the last half of the 90s was quite striking then, particularly to someone who had skipped a year's worth of the technology's development.

And then, there's Mark Gruenwald; everything comes back to him, eh? Imperial Guard was dedicated to his memory for reasons unclear to me; perhaps he was involved in the series' gestation, perhaps the writer was simply a fan or protégé of Gruenwald. Whatever, that little dedication won me over.

At the end of Imperial Guard#3 there was a house ad for a new Marvel comic book series by Kurt Busiek & Mark Bagley. It was called Thunderbolts and it happened to catch my fancy. Thunderbolts soon became the anchor that held me in comics for years to come; even during periods where I couldn't guarantee making my $400 monthly rent, I still kept to a 4 comic books per month ration as my primary entertainment expense. Quitting comics again? Out of the question.

Next time: how one panel made me rethink an artist's entire body of work.

Comics That Changed Me: Fantastic Four Annual #3

In the previous Comics That Changed Me I left off in 1995, the year in which I dropped comics books supposedly forever after the disappointment of Captain America#445-446. So naturally we pick up with Fantastic Four Annual #3 in 1965.

Bear with me. It all makes sense.

People who know I'm a comic book fan sometimes make certain assumptions about my tastes, particularly when it comes to buying me a birthday/Christmas present. It's like mentioning to a relative how much you liked eating chocolate cake and for your birthday receiving...your own cake pan. Friends and relations have seldom given me comic books as presents, even when I was young enough that the odds of me having any particular comic were negligible. These days I'm more likely to receive a book about comics...or tangentially related to comics.

This being the case, it's always a pleasant surprise when I receive a real comic book as a gift, especially when it matches my taste (and collection) perfectly. Christmas of 1996 was such an occasion and I owe it to my Uncle Ted; he gave me a copy of Fantastic Four Annual #3.

Writers: Stan Lee, Jack Kirby. Art: Jack Kirby, Vince Colletta, Dick Ayers.

This is the landmark story of Mr. Fantastic's wedding to the Invisible Girl. It set a trend in super hero weddings as nearly every Marvel hero made an appearance in the tale for a fight with about as many Marvel villains. Just about every super hero wedding since has either involved a host of guest stars and a big fight or has intentionally eschewed the trend and held a quiet affair.

I knew of Fantastic Four Annual#3, but hadn't seen so much as a reprint of it; I didn't even have the issue of Marvel Age where Peter Sanderson recapped the story. In terms of actual Silver Age Marvel comic books, my collection was very weak; I bought reprints when I could find & afford them, that was it. Even though I had dismantled much of my collection, this annual was something special and it rekindled some of my love for comics. 30 years does very little damage to Lee and Kirby's finest.

Along with the comic my uncle included a copy of Comic Shop News, a free tabloid-like periodical offered by some stores. The local store had stopped offering CSN years before it went out of business, so the thrill of seeing an issue of CSN again meant almost as much as the comic book. Back then, I wasn't on the internet and even if you followed comic books it was difficult to keep track of what was going on because there was simply so much being published. CSN had a multitude of tiny articles describing much of what I'd missed and some of what was yet to come.

One article caught my eye.

I can't find the issue now to reproduce it exactly, but the text was something like this:

"Marvel has cancelled the Official Timeline of the Marvel Universe due to the death of Mark Gruenwald."

Laying aside that such a project was ever considered (and to this day remains unpublished), the second half of the article was like a dagger in my heart. Mark Gruenwald was dead (had been dead for four months). His death wasn't even the subject of the article!

I don't know what it would have meant to me if I had still been reading comics when Gruenwald died; he would have died all the same, whether I had been reading his work or not. Regardless, it stung me to think I had given up on my personal favorite creator less than a year before he was lost to the world.

Melancholy aside, Fantastic Four Annual#3 reminded me why I had loved comics; now I was ready to buy another and I'll relate that tale next time.

Comics That Changed Me: Captain America #445-446

In my last installment I talked about my early days as a "Marvel Zombie" and how Mark Gruenwald's run on Captain America made me a dedicated fan. Today, I'm here to talk about how I shrugged my shoulders and left comics behind. It has a bit to do with Gruenwald.

Although in the early 90s I bought comics at an alarming rate - not only grabbing about two dozen Marvel titles per month, but easily matching or exceeding that in back issue purchases - by the mid-90s I wasn't feeling as strongly connected to the hobby as I once was. It's not as though some other hobby had come along to distract me, nor did I feel that I had "outgrown" comics (though I often feared that I should have been outgrowing them yet wasn't). Perhaps it was simply the state of Marvel Comics itself. Because I was devoted solely to Marvel's line of titles, I had blinded myself to what options might have existed in other publishers' stock.

For all the flak I've seen the X-Men receive as a supposedly new reader-unfriendly title, the X-Men titles circa 1995 were actually some of the friendliest titles on the stands; they had a generally high standard of art, they used familiar characters, nearly every place that carried comics had copies on sale and even if you didn't read the titles for a few months (and I often wouldn't), you could get caught up quickly. Even by 1994, I was down to following just two comic books on a monthly basis: John Francis Moore's X-Men 2099 and Mark Gruenwald's Captain America.

I had wavered on Gruenwald's Cap a few times, but always came back to the series because I was invested in the continued development of the characters. No matter how I felt about the story or art, I still cared enough about Diamondback and I still wanted another great Crossbones story. But 1995 was Gruenwald's last year on the title, bringing it all to an end with #443.

I knew that the end was nigh thanks to the Captain America Collector's Preview special, which helpfully interviewed the imminent new writer Mark Waid. As I said above, I was blind to what was going on at other publishers and this was Waid's big break at Marvel. The Preview made mention of him being a renowned Flash author, but that gave me no idea of whether he would impress me or not. I was disappointed that Gruenwald was leaving, but he gave Waid his blessing in the Preview, which was actually a better endorsement than "this guy writes Flash" in my book.

I bought Waid's first issue, #444, but it wasn't especially helpful at convincing me that Waid was the scribe I hoped he would be. #444 barely features Cap, instead focusing on the Avengers defusing a terrorist attack and talking about how great Cap is. It demonstrated that Waid had some respect for Captain America, but not whether he could write said character.

So, this finally leads me to the issues at hand: Captain America#445-446.

Writer: Mark Waid. Art: Ron Garney, Scott Koblish, Danis Rodier.

I bought these issues simultaneously from a department store (K Mart?). This is where Waid's run on Captain America began in earnest, reintroducing Cap's former-dead former-love interest Sharon Carter, and teaming Cap with the Red Skull to face the greater threat of a Cosmic Cube imbued with the mind of Adolf Hitler.

It sucked.

That was my reaction then, and it's still hard to divorce myself from my initial emotions. Waid and Garney's Captain America run is looked on favorably by fandom - it's often ranked higher than Gruenwald, in spite (or because?) of Waid writing little more than 30 issues versus Gruenwald's 130+.

Although Waid did resolve Cap's recurring health problems from Gruenwald's run (which had consumed the series for the past twenty issues) and picked up the Red Skull from where Gruenwald had left him, he jettisoned all of Cap's supporting cast, bringing in just Sharon Carter to replace them.

I think everything I disliked about these two comics - and what kept me disassociated from Cap for the rest of Waid's run - was his use of Sharon Carter. I wasn't reading Cap back when she was alive, seeing that she died when I was one year old. Having been nurtured for years by Gruenwald's stories and essays, I firmly agreed with his statement "Every character's rebirth diminishes the Marvel Universe by robbing the concept of death of its dramatic impact" (see it here). I knew of Sharon because Gruenwald's own Official Handbook of the Marvel Universe introduced her to me as "the dead girlfriend."

Waid's means of restoring Sharon to life were as plausible as the average resurrection, but while the person appearing in Cap#445-446 may have called herself Sharon Carter...she certainly didn't act like her. Throughout the story Sharon is...how to put it...an ice-cold bitch? She never drops her guard around Cap and let her emotions show, instead seemingly resenting him for believing she was dead. Well, fair enough, but this was not the way to warm me up to this character. I was already apprehensive of the very notion of resurrecting Sharon; making her an acid-tongued harpy who renders dismissive, disparaging remarks to Cap (my hero! the star of the book!) angered me. Cap's relationship with the Red Skull was actually warmer and more human than his relationship with Sharon. You know where you sit with Johann Shmidt*. I felt that Waid had unnecessarily resurrected an old forgotten character and transplanted an entirely new personality into her, to the extent that he was using her just for the name value, because he could take advantage of Cap's pre-existing emotional connection to Sharon, rather than inventing a new sardonic, bilious shrew that Cap would have to learn to like. So this Waid was the great wunderkind of DC Comics? Fah!** This was surely an example of why I had given up on DC six years earlier (I convinced myself I had actually disliked DC; the "Marvel Zombie" days were very emotional).

As Gruenwald observed, just as every issue can be someone's first, each issue can also be their last. This was where I called it quits***, not only on Captain America but on X-Men 2099 as well, since there seemed to be little point in scouting comic shops to find just one title. Consequently, I had given up on comics. In short order, I began cutting immense swaths of titles from my collection, only retaining series I didn't want to break up and issues that held an emotional connection with me. Cap#445-446 stayed in, but only because they were part of my Captain America collection. I was resigned to my course: I was finally done with comics.

In my next installment: the heartbreak of coming back to comics. * Under his heel. ** I did eventually warm up to Waid on Fantastic Four and succeeding titles like Empire, Potter's Field and the Unknown. I still don't like re-reading his Cap, yet found myself writing a piece for one of the collections anyway. *** Not to return as a monthly customer until Brubaker's 2004 relaunch. Sharon Carter was still around, but had long since repented her Joan Collins-esque ways.

Comics That Changed Me: Captain America #355

I've already referred to how peer pressure from my cousins led me to conclude that Marvel Comics were the best comic book publisher. If I had to pinpoint the precise comic book that made me a Marvel fan - a "Marvel Zombie," as was the self-disparaging nickname used at the time - it would have to be Captain America#355.

Writer: Mark Gruenwald Artist: Al Milgrom

Well, where to begin?

As described in the 1st installment, I was primarily a DC fan as a child. I've heard it said that Gruenwald was himself more of a DC fan than a Marvel fan and the concept behind this particular story of his - Captain America becomes a teenager - sounds like something from DC's Silver Age. But that wasn't why I bought it.

I attempted to avoid the X-Men because they were the most popular characters(according to my cousins). Instead, I sought out Captain America because I knew he was on the verge of becoming the next most popular super hero. Oh, I may have been eleven, but I knew Captain America's big theatrical debut was in the works*! And that cover...whatever you may think, it really stood out on the spinner rack of the Alpine Drug Store.

This was the start of a three-part story which fandom ultimately dubbed "Teen Cap." Some call it a (or the) low point of Gruenwald's lengthy Captain America run, but it's not quite what you'd expect. Ron Frenz's pseudo-Kirby cover promises some Silver Age-like escapades, but in the actual story Cap has himself transformed into a teenager so that he can go undercover and find out what's been happening to teenage runaways. He winds up at the "Camp of Hate," an indoctrination site where teenagers are being wired into killers and he's without all the advantages of his shield and strength. It's actually a pretty good dilemma (when you're eleven) in that you fear for Cap's life.

This was not the first Marvel comic book I purchased, but it was where the trend began. I came back the next month for #356. Then next month for #357. Pretty soon, I was buying as many Marvel comics as my meager resources would allocate; I invested so much into Marvel's fictional universe that I couldn't be bothered to focus on DC's; gradually I stopped buying DC (even from the old Swap Shop's 25 cent bin) until within a few years I actually held DC in contempt, as was the fashion of the time (and still is). By 1991, I was buying dozens of new comic books every month. Captain America #355 set me on the path to becoming an über fan!

More than that, this was where Captain America became my new favorite hero. He had the morality and courage of Superman, but I quickly began to appreciate that without superhuman powers, his achievements were actually more impressive. Truth be told, I developed some disdain for Superman as a result. Cap was a natural leader who would never give up in a fight, tried his best against impossible odds and genuinely cared about both innocents and criminals.

This was also where I became a fan of Mark Gruenwald's work. He wrote Captain America for most of the next 100 issues and I never enjoyed Cap so much as I did under his pen. From the never-ending Red Skull plots to the Diamondback storyarcs, this was the first time a series grabbed me, made me care about the characters instead of simply the resolution to fights. Coupled with this were Gruenwald's editorials in Marvel Age magazine, which exposed the writing/production side of comic books in a frank, open manner that quickly educated me on the process and realities of storytelling and shared universes. Finally, Gruenwald had already developed the Official Handbook of the Marvel Universe by the time I became a Marvel Zombie. From 1989 onwards, I thought I would be a comic book fan for life.

So I thought.

Join me next installment for the story of how I gave up on comic books.

*Twenty-one years later, it still is.

Comics That Changed Me: Uncanny X-Men Annual#12

Today's Comics That Changed Me is a special PSA for young comic book readers about the dangers of peer pressure. It could turn you into a Marvel Zombie. To frame this story properly, I need to explain my comic book buying habits circa 1988. Being a ten year old whose only monetary resources were a tiny allowance and the occasional birthday gift, I had to spend my comic book money responsibly. To me, that meant I only followed the comic books I really liked. Back then, my single favorite comic book was Superman. By extension, I read primarily from DC Comics, especially if Superman was in any way involved. I did have quite a few Marvel comics but most of them were presents; the only Marvel book I truly enjoyed was Star Wars, which had been cancelled by '88.
The second important piece of information involves my cousins, James and Andrew. These two were each born within a year of me, roughly the year before and after. Not only were they nearer in age to me than any of my other cousins, they were nearer than my own siblings. I always looked forward to (all too infrequent) visits with James and Andrew. We had very similar tastes as children, notably our shared love of Star Wars.
There was a period of time where I would see James and Andrew once a year, always in the summer. It seemed like each summer the boys had a new mania they wanted to share with their fellow cousins. That summer of '88, at least part of the mania was the X-Men.
Writer: Chris Claremont Artists: Art Adams & Bob Wiacek.
I knew the X-Men from various gifts and such items that had wandered into my collection, but I didn't think much of it. The X-Men were just another super hero team, so far as I was concerned. Being a Marvel super hero team, I didn't invest a lot of time thinking about them.
But then there was James and Andrew with that annual. And they made the hard sell, employing peer pressure whether they knew it or not. They raved about that gorgeous Art Adams artwork a little, but mostly they extolled X-Men because it was the most popular comic book. I certainly had no idea which comics were more popular than others, but my respected cousins assured me that the X-Men were number one; moreover, Marvel was the number one publisher. "Everyone's doing it," to coin a phrase.
I read my cousins' copy of this annual a few times, trying to grasp what made it so great. This was the comic that introduced the X-Babies, for crying out loud! Its greatness escaped me at the time, but my cousins' peer pressure had begun to take some effect. If Marvel Comics really were the coolest comics, why wasn't I reading them?
Now, I had enough willpower of my own that I wasn't willing to simply become an X-Men fan, but how I began my Marvel Zombie phase is a story for the third installment. Suffice to say, I avoided the X-Men at first just to show I wasn't copying everything my cousins promoted.
In summers to follow, James and Andrew would sing the praises of Turbo Grafix 16, Terminator 2: Judgment Day and Magic: the Gathering. I held out against them as best as I was able to, but as late as 2002 they were still able to sway me into Heroclix. James & Andrew: I love you guys, but you have so much to answer for...

Comics That Changed Me: Justice League International#11

When I say that a certain comic book changed me, I don't want to sound like I'm indulging in hyperbole. I enjoy many forms of entertainment and there are fictional works in many mediums which can excite me, unsettle me, make me laugh or bring me to tears. But I would never say that any such work "changed my life." So when I say that a comic book changed me, I mean that it changed the way I approached the medium of comic books, from casual reader to devoted fan to part-time professional, with various stages of waning interest sprinkled throughout.

There are several signposts along my journey as a reader that I've thought about on the occasion; this post is the first in a series (planned to run 10 installments) in which I'll be processing those thoughts.

Operating from chronological order, I begin with Justice League International#11.

Written by Keith Giffen and J.M. DeMatteis; art by Kevin Maguire and Al Gordon.

JLI#11 was not my first comic book, but it is the earliest comic where I can recall criticizing what I was experiencing. I was nine years old at the time and while most of my knowledge of the Justice League of America was based on the Super Friends animated program, I had read a few issues of JLA earlier on. They really didn't prepare me for the JLI.

Giffen & DeMatteis' JLI is looked on rather favorably by today's fans, but I can only imagine what regular readers of the JLA thought at the time.* There were two things about JLI that I recognized as being very different:

1. The absence of big names; Batman, Black Canary & Martian Manhunter were all in this issue, but the remainder were heroes I had never heard of; Rocket Red? Booster Gold? Captain Atom? Mr. Miracle? Blue Beetle? And their Green Lantern (Guy Gardner) wasn't the one I had seen before; he had a stupid haircut and a goofy personality. Who were these people and what happened to the real Justice League?**
2. The humour. I was accustomed to finding humour in Archie or Star comics, not in my super hero books.

The second point was the one I felt most strongly about. As a childhood Star Wars fan I accepted comic relief characters existing side-by-side an otherwise serious story, but JLI#11 was levity through-and-through. Everyone, with the exception of Batman, was there to crack or be the foil of jokes. I think Guy Gardner was the one I loathed the most; I learned many years later that this issue came during a subplot where Guy's personality had been altered to (it says here) humourous effect, rendering him docile as an inversion of his customary obnoxious behavior. Knowing none of this, as my introduction to the character I was immediately put off. In JLI#11, Guy is incompetant, Booster Gold is airsick, Rocket Red talks in a "humourous" dialect. I cringed. This is the Justice League? The greatest super heroes in comics?

I couldn't fully articulate what upset me about JLI#11 at the age of nine, but on some level it offended me. I felt that the creators were mocking the super hero comics that I loved, portraying super heroes as bumbling idiots existing just to set up gags. It made me feel as though my taste in reading material was being ridiculed by the very people who fabricated it.*** About a decade later I would become a huge fan of the Tick which did a similar thing to super heroes; the difference being that the Tick himself was created as an act of satire. The presence of the words "Justice League" on the cover severely tested my tolerance for the buffoonery.

And so, my critical faculties were unleashed on a comic book for the first time. The result? Before long I abandoned DC Comics wholesale, throwing all my dollars to Marvel Comics. I'll get more into that during the next two installments, but for years afterward I would spy the JLI (or Justice League Europe) on the stands and sigh, seeing that nothing had changed; JLI#11 informed my opinion of DC Comics for the next decade and it wasn't the least bit favourable.

My concerns as a nine year old probably seem small to you if you have some knowledge of the comic book market today. There can't be that many nine year olds reading comic books in 2010 and reverence toward the protagonists isn't the biggest issue keeping kids away.

Some years ago I revisited Giffen**** & DeMatteis' work as an adult and found it more palatable, but I wonder how many kids in my age range were driven away from the League - or comics - by this creative direction. I have not purchased a Justice League comic since the 1980s.

*"Well, it still beats the Detroit League!"

**In fact, the opening scene has the JLI's company man Maxwell Lord becoming upset that none of the heroes who aided the JLI in a recent crossover were sticking around. Max, we were on the same page.

***I felt that way again the following year when I watched the Superman 50th Anniversary special on television, which made ten year old me grind his teeth and fluster, "Don't they know Superman is fictional?" In retrospect, I think the makers of the special were hoping to produce a riff on This is Spinal Tap.

****Not long after JLI#11 I discovered Giffen's Ambush Bug and enjoyed it immensely - that series, where the humour was completely off-the-wall mental, didn't seem to hold its audience in contempt. Would that I felt the same way about the recent Ambush Bug: Year None mini-series, which brought back JLI#11 flashbacks in the worst way.