Second Time Around

From the stir of old memories to the love of a familiar tale, Alasdair Stuart takes a look at the reasons why we keep going back to the bookcase to revisit certain stories.
26 October 2001

I've been doing some tidying up recently, and it's got me thinking. After a year or so of having them scattered liberally around the house I finally got my graphic novels in one room, on one set of shelves and in alphabetical order. This exercise achieved two things: It satisfied my inner librarian, and it got me thinking about which books in my collection I keep re-reading, and why.

There is a perception that comics are a disposable medium, and to a large extent that's true. A lot of monthly titles get by on a mixture of nostalgia and inertia, re-heating stories and characters from years previously either because "it's what we've always done" or because "it's what the fans want". This way of thinking has recently lost some ground to the "pop comic" concept. This concept, first developed by Warren Ellis in his Come In Alone column at Comic Book Resources, seems to have gained increasing credence within the industry of late.

In a nutshell, it advocates stripping away the twin obsessions of the industry, continuity and trademark characters, for something leaner and faster. Instead of the leviathan flagship titles of Marvel and DC, pop comics are mini-series, three issues or so in length, with a collection once they're done. Tell a story with a beginning, middle and end, one that is as attractive to new readers as possible. Then get off the stage.

This concept applies to an awful lot of the books I buy and read once, maybe twice. Ironically, a good example of this is ENDGAME, the second in a series of SUPERMAN trade paperbacks that seem intent on following the pop comics structure as much as possible, even though Superman is traditionally one of the "flagship" characters appearing in multiple titles with multi-digit issue numbers without ever actually changing.

It's interesting to note then, that DC has recently begun publishing relatively fast track collections of both SUPERMAN and BATMAN stories, usually less than a year old.

I don't normally go within a mile of the Superman titles, but I was sufficiently intrigued by the ENDGAME story, and the much-hyped computer art on Brainiac 13, that I picked up the collection when it came out. I read it once, enjoyed it, and then put it on the shelf. In much the same way that a few months earlier I'd bought the third Fun Lovin' Criminals album, played it a couple of times and then put it on the shelf with the first and second. In both cases, it was a fast burning injection of modern culture. Fun for a while, then you move on to something else.

However, just as I go back to old albums and dust them off, I do the same with some graphic novels. In order to explain why, it's necessary to extend the musical metaphor a little. Everyone has favourite albums, whether it's the Barenaked Ladies, Ludacris or Frank Sinatra. Music, in my experience, is one of the strongest keys to memory that modern culture possesses. It's the reason why couples have their "song" and why most film soundtracks are either the greatest hits of the Brat Pack or a feeding frenzy of asexual, unthreatening pop acts. If you like the movie, you'll associate the music with the experience and go and buy the soundtrack. The music becomes a key to the memory of the film. This, incidentally, is the only rational explanation for Wet Wet Wet and Bryan Adams' UK chart successes. As in music, so also in books.

For example, my copy of Neil Gaiman and Dave Mckean's VIOLENT CASES has been read countless times. This was the first OGN I ever read, and it serves as a reminder for me, both of the good memories that part of my life contained and of the friend who lent it to me. Richard died in a motorcycle accident, far too young, a few years ago. I remember him every time I read that book.

As a result, the book acts in much the same way as a piece of music. It becomes objectified to some extent, its presence acting as a marker for a past experience, even at the cost of its artistic content. There's a strong case for saying I don't own VIOLENT CASES because I like it, but because I like what it reminds me of. This is true, but it's not the whole story. For me, VIOLENT CASES actually has more impact as a story because of the memories associated with it.

On the other end of the spectrum to the pop comic idea is the serial. Titles such as SANDMAN, PREACHER, TRANSMETROPOLITAN and PARASYTE have all been collected while the series themselves continued - a move that allows them to be read and sold in different ways to other titles.

From a reader's point of view, serials allow for the most rewarding and extensive reading experience. As each new volume is printed it can either be read on its own, or the entire series can be read from the start, allowing the new collection to be placed in narrative context and, as a result, giving it a great deal more impact on the reader.

In a sense, serials are 'solved' as much as read. As each new volume is published, another part of the overall narrative is fitted into place by the reader. Speaking personally, I remember starting SANDMAN afresh every time a new volume was put out, and do much the same now with titles such as TRANSMETROPOLITAN and A DISTANT SOIL.

The serial approach, from an industry point of view, also makes the series as attractive to new readers as possible. Many chain bookshops now carry graphic novels, allowing these series to reach new markets, and making them as accessible as possible to new readers. Anyone interested in the latest issue of TRANSMETROPOLITAN should be able to find the first volume in the same store with minimum effort.

If they like it, all the later volumes should be available in the same place. In this way, serial titles continually boost their own sales, but also reward retailers with good trade paperback programs. Speaking from experience, in our neck of the woods at least, trade sales are very much on the rise, and a lot of it is serial titles, ranging from TRANSMETROPOLITAN to RANMA 1/2.

The final factor in re-reading, of course, is the impact the story has on the reader the first time around. My copy of Dan Abnett and Andy Lanning's superb LORDS OF MISRULE is particularly well-thumbed, not so much due to any memories attached to it as due to it's status as a cracking piece of English horror. Once again, we're back to the idea of comic as pop song, only this time viewed in retrospect. Good pop is disposable, great pop is still being hummed years later.

It's why people still buy the early Beatles albums and why, despite my dislike for everything else in their back catalogue, I still listen to Nirvana's NEVERMIND every now and again. If it's done right, it stays with people forever and, for me at least, LORDS OF MISRULE was done very right indeed. I keep coming back to Young, Adlard and Smiths' ASTRONAUTS IN TROUBLE, Milligan and Fegredo's ENIGMA, and Evan Dorkin's MILK AND CHEESE and WHO'S LAUGHING NOW?, for the same reasons. These, for me, are the comic equivalent of NEVERMIND, THE COMPLETE PIXIES B-SIDES, THE JOSHUA TREE and STUNT.

I may not play them or read them all the time, but it's enough to know they're there.

Alasdair Stuart is the manager of Travelling Man comics in York, and writes for the Manx Independent newspaper.

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