Ninth Art - For the Discerning Reader - http://www.ninthart.org
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A Question Of Trust
When do you know that it's time to drop a comic book you've been reading? The obvious answer is, "When you're not enjoying reading it any more." But surely that's too simplistic. There have been times (and I'm sure everyone reading this has done the same) when I've struggled through a couple of less than satisfactory issues of a monthly title that I usually enjoy. Whether it's the writing, the art, whatever... something's not 'right' about the package. But you persevere and then, before you know it, you've bought another six issues and you realise it's getting on for a year since you really, and I mean really, enjoyed the book. Just in case it's not obvious, I'm referring to ongoing serials here, the only books that can have 'loyalty' linked to the book itself. So, if it's been a while since you've really enjoyed reading a book, is then the time to drop the series? Shouldn't you drop the title the moment it starts to pall? Have we grown so weird as a comics-buying public that we'll buy something out of loyalty to fictional creations? It's been bugging me since lunchtime. And why has it been bugging me? What brought this on? I guess it started last night when I managed to get to my local comic shop for the first time in a while. I scanned the shelves, picked up the books I wanted to buy, went over to the till, blanched at the total quoted, paid it and then went for a drink with the usual crowd. On the train home, I sorted the comics. Yes, I am that anal, OK? Shut up. I sorted them into three stacks: Those I really wanted to read, those I wanted to read "right bloody now", and those that I'd have read walking from the pub to the station if I could have done. Yes, I really am that anal. I already told you that. So, I read three or four of them on the train home, some of them last night, when I got home, and then some more during lunch time, in the café opposite work. And that's when it hit me. I'd almost finished my lunch hour and was reaching for the next book in the pile to read when I thought, "Nah, I'll read that one later, no urgency about it". So there I was, flicking through the rest of them, and I slowly came to a realisation: despite me buying them last night, and being curious as to the contents, I had no sense of urgency to read any of them at that moment. I'm not saying that I didn't want to read the books, but what struck me was that I wasn't actually excited in any way about their potential contents. So the question then becomes not when do you drop a book, but rather the flip side: why the hell do you carry on buying the title? It's the great question for anyone interested in this industry. What keeps people buying the books month in, month out? It's been said that team books such as X-MEN are, at their heart, soap operas: continuing serial dramas. But surely this applies to all continuing books. With rare exceptions, such as THE AVENGERS where team changes are part of the basic dynamic of the book, the cast rarely changes. THE FANTASTIC FOUR may have had the odd substitute in the team, but if you pick up this month's issue you'll see the same four that were in the book forty years ago at its creation. With every other type of soap opera, (television, radio, etc) there's one thing they have to deal with that comic books try to either ignore. Or, when they don't ignore it, deal with it in a way that can at best be described as wanting. Time. Sure they can have the same cast on television for a long period, but that cast is getting older... and leaving. In the UK, the longest running soap on television is notable for only having one original cast member. There have long been two accepted principles concerning why people accept that things in the comic book differ from real life, yet are still real enough to ensnare a regular monthly reader. (And yes, they do differ, even the books that profess to be reflections of real life: that's why they're called fiction.) The first is the so-called "willing suspension of disbelief". The reader knows that if someone dressed in a red and blue uniform were to throw themselves off a roof in real life, the reaction of the crowd wouldn't be, "Ooh, look! Up in the sky," etc. It would be one of "Eurgh..." as the man hit the ground at 30 miles an hour. Well, apart from the bloke who taped it on his portable digital camera and sold it to the news channels. But for comic book readers, that doesn't matter. The escapism is part of the enjoyment. Those very same people who love THE AUTHORITY for sorting out the world's affairs would be the first to protest if a group of costumed characters started doing it in real life tomorrow. There was a story the other week about someone dressing up in a costume to 'fight crime' in a UK city. When I saw the news report online, my immediate reaction was confirmed on message boards all over the Internet: the very idea was laughed at. People like escapism to stay where it should be ? outside their real lives. The second principle is that comic books are all about readers wanting the illusion of change. Again, I refer you to THE FANTASTIC FOUR, and my comments about soap operas. Franklin Richards, the world's best behaved seven year old... for the past 15 years? Despite the insertion of additional supporting casts, or the extraordinarily rare occurrence of a complete revamp such as John Byrne's, the cast in the SUPERMAN comic book is substantially the same, and the same age, as it was ten years ago, or twenty. You've still got Clark Kent working for the Daily Planet for Perry White, next to Lois Lane; his chief enemy is still Lex Luthor. His main weakness? Krypto... oh, you guessed. So I ask again: what compels us to buy these things called comic books every month? It's too simple to say "the creators", although that was the first answer that sprung to mind. Although it's tempting to say that it's their (and, in some cases, their predecessors') fault, it's also been said that, with the main four character groups out there (Superman, Batman, Spider-Man and the X-Men), it doesn't matter who writes or draws the books, the punters will buy it anyway. If you look at the publishing history of each of them, it sometimes looks as if the publishers are positively testing out that theory. But it can't be just the creators. If that were the case, when a creator moved off the book, sales wouldn't merely fall, they'd plummet. But they don't ? not in enough cases to make the argument that it's just the creators. "Ah," you say, "So it's the characters." Well, no, that doesn't work either. (And not for the reason you might think. The law of diminishing returns doesn't strictly apply: if it did, Batman wouldn't still regularly come top of, or near the top of, every "favourite superhero" poll of the past twenty years.) No, the reason it doesn't work is because fashion applies as much to comic books as it does to anything else in the creative arena. Could TRANSMETROPOLITAN have been published fifteen years ago to the same success? I doubt it. Could PREACHER have been published by a mainstream publisher twenty-five years ago? Unlikely, at best. So what is it? Well, trite though it may sound, I suspect the reason we keep buying the comics is that old thing called synergy. No, not the one about comic books being a synergy of prose and art, but a synergy of two other things: the production (by which I include the writing, art and production values) and, believe it or not, trust. The first involves a further synergy, between those that create the story and those who manage getting the book out there on the stands. The second, well that's a tough one. But can it be that simple? Can it be that what brings us back month in, month out, is that we trust the creators, and the stories, situations and indeed characters they've created not to let us down, even if they have an off month? Wouldn't it be great if that was the answer ? that in a world and industry that we're constantly being told is cynical and untrusting, that the whole damned thing worked only because of trust between those who produce the books and those who read them? Just think about that for a minute. I think we may be on to something here... What's the matter? Don't you trust me? Lee Barnett is an accountant and comic book writer. His first story for Marvel appears in X-MEN UNLIMITED, due on the shelves in August. Ninth Art endorses the principle of Ideological Freeware. The author permits distribution of this article by private individuals, on condition that the author and source of the article are clearly shown, no charge is made, and the whole article is reproduced intact, including this notice. Back. |