Saturday, July 27, 2013

New Comic-books... a little late

For those who read this blog, you know by now that I have missed the last two "New Comic-book Night" posts.  The reason for this is simple: I was out of town. My comic shop held my comics, of course, so I picked them up on Thursday, along with some back-issues.



The bottom row of comics are my new issues for the month. From left to right: Justice League of America 6, Supergirl 22, Thor 10, and Red Sonja 1.  The top row are the last four issues in the fourth Supergirl series (aka. Supergirl, vol. 5, since vol. 3 was a mini-series).  I now have, in either individual issue or (mostly) trade paperback form, every single issue of that series, plus every single issue of Supergirl and the Legion of Super-heroes, which completes my collection of this Supergirl version (who I have taken to calling "midriff Supergirl"), since she's the only one who, for her entire existence, wore a costume leaving her midriff unnecessarily bare.

Wednesday, July 24, 2013

Is waiting for the trade paperback dangerous?

Back when I started collecting comic-books in 1976(ish), comic-books were only produced in monthly or bi-monthly serialized form.  If you missed an issue, your collection was going to have a gap in it.  There were few, if any, direct-market comic-book shops back then, so you could only buy your issues on the news stand.  And news stands did not hold back-issues -- unsold comics were returned to the publisher for credit (so that the news stand was not on the hook for items that didn't sell).  Back then, in other words, reading every issue in a comic-book series required you to buy every issue as it came out.  This was a significant challenge, and I don't think I had a single friend with a complete collection that lasted more than a handful of issues.  For example, I got interested in Rom: Spaceknight on issue #24.  I picked up #26 and #28 (but missed the odd issues for some reason), and then finally with #30 was devoted enough to the series that I picked up every single issue from #30 to #60 or so.  But although I wanted to read the earlier stories, back then, there was no good way of obtaining them.

By the 1980s, direct-market shops had started to appear in more locations, and it became possible to obtain some older back-issues.  I was able to buy a few of the Rom issues between #1 and #23 (though only about a third of them).  Still at this time, if one wanted to read every story in a series, one had to buy the individual issues.  Thus, the back-issues made this possible, as it had not been before the 1980s, but it was still extremely difficult.

Finally, by the 1990s, the comic-book companies started putting out bound, collected editions of older issues, either as paperbacks or (very rarely) hardcovers.   The most common way for them to do this is with the "trade paperback," or "TPB", which is a softcover collection.  The first trade paperback I ever remember buying was the Batman story, "A Death in the Family" (the original one, wherein Jason Todd was murdered by the Joker).  I had not been wise enough to pull the trigger on the individual issues, believing that the whole thing was just hype, but when I heard that the story was excellent, I bought the TPB.   This was typical of the trend in the 1990s, which was for the companies to collect significant or important storylines (such as the "Great Darkness Saga" from the Legion of Super-Heroes), or else storylines that had sold out in their regular print run, but which were still in demand by the readers ("A Death in the Family" being a good example).

Since the turn of the century, however, comic-book companies have started to put out far more TPBs.  They discovered that TPBs are quite popular with many readers, because the TPB provides the reader with a number of advantages.  First, TPBs usually collect a complete, self-contained storyline (aka. an "arc"), and can be read almost as a stand-alone.  There is no need to track down every issue in the story.  Second, TPBs often provide the reader with significant cost savings (a typical 6-issue arc at $3.99 a pop is $24, but most TPBs collecting six issues are priced at around $19.99). Third, TPBs because they have no value beyond the cover price (they are always reprints, and thus rarely worth anything to serious collectors), make it unnecessary to bother with the usual steps one must take to store and protect individual comics (mylar bags, backing boards, and the like).  And finally, with their square, stiff spines, TPBs can be stored on a bookshelf with no risk of them bending or warping, which saves tons of space over the typical "long boxes" in which individual issues are stored.

For all these reasons, the TPB format has become increasingly popular, and I am certainly a fan of it.  When a friend recommended the Sandman series, for example, it was already over, and each first-print back-issue was rare and valuable. Trying to buy the series as 75 individually priced comics would have cost a small fortune.  The TPBs, however, were readily available, and probably cost a tenth of what the individual back-issues would have cost me.  Thus, I quickly got on board the TPB bandwagon. Many readers feel the same way, and the comic companies have responded.  Most writers now seem to "write for the trades" -- meaning that, since TPBs normally collect 4-8 issues, averaging around 6, most story arcs are written to that length (again, averaging around 6 issues), so that as soon as the arc is done, it can be bound as a collection and sold to those who prefer the TPB format.

Reading through comments on the Google+ Comic-Book Community, I have noticed that many people now only buy TPBs.  They have to wait a bit to get the story, but they are willing to do that for the convenience of all the advantages listed above.

Today, I ask whether "waiting for the TPB" is dangerous, from the standpoint of a character or a series that you like to read.  How can it be dangerous? you ask.  My answer is that, in general, the comic-book companies seem to respond primarily to the sales of individual issues on the stands.  Although I'm sure they are gratified when people buy the TPB collection, the TPB is usually published 6 months after the storyline completes, and since most stories are 6 issues long, that means a TPB will be published a year after the first issue in the arc appeared.  That's a long time in the comic publishing world.

To see why waiting for the trade is dangerous, let's use the example of a current disaster series for DC (in terms of sales): Katana.  The series debuted in February, selling 27,000 print copies the first month.  By April, sales had dropped to 16,000, and by June it was limping along at 13,000.  We also know from recent history that +DC Comics tends to cancel comic-book series that sell less than 20,000 issues per month.  Now, maybe nobody likes Katana and that's why her sales are dropping. But let's imagine for a moment that the 13,000+ people who stopped buying it between issues 1 and 5, decided they liked it, but wanted to "wait for the trade."  The TPB of the first arc won't come out until January 2014 or so.  Meantime, Katana is in the "cancellation red zone" for months.  The risk here is that DC will see slumping sales and cancel the series in July or August, long before the TPB ever comes out.  Even if they put out a TPB of the first story arc in January (which they might not bother to do for a comic that doesn't sell well), and even if the TPB sells like gangbusters, by then, the series may already be canceled and it may be too late to do anything about it.

Don't think it can happen? It already has. Threshold is being canceled as of issue 8. Hawk and Dove was as well.  Justice League International lasted just 1 year.  All of these books were canceled before the first story arc could be collected into a TPB, published, and the sales figures for the TPB could be tallied.

This is why I believe that, if you truly like a comic-book enough to buy it regularly and keep reading it, it's very dangerous to "wait for the trades." I do understand the convenience, and when buying back-issues, I definitely prefer TPBs to individual issues in most cases -- for the lower cost, the lower maintenance, and the convenience.   But if you like a comic and you want it to keep being published, the sales that indicate your feelings won't be tallied until months after the issues are published, and you risk your favorite series being canceled.  The only way to be sure the companies know you are on board with their title is to buy it every month, as it comes out -- and better yet, put it on your pull list, so the store knows to order another copy of it.  Yes, it is less convenient than "waiting for the trade," but is the TPB worth risking the series being canceled?  To me, the answer is "no."

I am not, of course, trying to tell anyone what to do.  If you prefer trades, that's fine.  But you should be aware of the risk you're taking with any series you truly enjoy... Because you may just be one person, but if everyone decides to "wait for the trade," not just you, then the sales may slump so badly the title gets canceled, even though thousands of people actually would buy it next year when the TPB comes out.  So... as with all things... caveat emptor.

Thursday, July 11, 2013

NCN - 7/10/13

Today is once again "new comic-book night" (though it really isn't a "night" lately, since without classes, I have been able to duck off campus and go to the comic shop early in the day).  Two new titles came out today for me in the shop (a third, Worlds' Finest, was released but I get that one digitally and I'm not ready to put in a comiXology order just yet).  The two newest additions to my collection from the pull list were Justice League 22 and Batgirl 22.  I'm also still working on the final issues of Supergirl series 4, which were not collected in a trade paperback. Today I grabbed three of the last 7, issues 61, 62, and 63.



I haven't read the Supergirl issues yet, and those, plus all the previous ones, will be reviewed in a separate article that is forthcoming.  I have, however, read the two new releases.

Justice League 22 - This series has had major ups and downs. The previous issue, which concluded the Shazam! arc, was fantastic, as was the entire back-up feature about Shazam!  It was also drawn by one of my favorite artists, Gary Frank.  This issue brings Shazam! face to face with the rest of the JL, and starts off the Trinity War "event." (Sigh, another one.) Shazam! tries to take the ashes of Black Adam (from last issue) back to "Khandaq" to spread them in Adam's birthplace.  The Khandaqi military thinks its being invaded. The Justice League goes in to get him out, but the JLA goes in to stop them, because the JL is not supposed to be going into Khandaqi space.  During the confrontation between the JL and JLA, which is extremely contrived (the characters are all universally thick-headed and frankly stupid about their differences), Dr. Light accidentally "attacks" Wonder Woman with his out-of-control powers, and Superman appears, in a rage, to kill Dr. Light. This then starts an all out battle between the two JLs (JL vs. JLA).

I was really disappointed in the way the two JLs started battling each other.  The scene is extremely forced, as well as rushed -- we go from Superman zapping Dr. Light to a giant panel showing an all-out battle, with no ramp-up, nothing in between. At the very end, we see that the Secret Society of Villains has been controlling things, and based on what is said in the last panel, Superman didn't actually kill Light (either Light is not dead, or someone else killed him and made it look like Superman did it -- great job by Geoff Johns in pulling out his second fake death in as many months... how original of him).  Thus, we're going to end up with an all-out war between the JLs based on a mix-up.  This is like a really bad episode of Three's Company.  I'd give this a lower rating but the art wasn't bad.  My score: 8/10 (with 6/10 for story but 9/10 for art).

Batgirl 22 - In a beautifully touching story, Gail Simone presents a Batgirl issue without Batgirl. Barbara Gordon spends most of the story on a date with Ricky, the young man whose leg was taken by Knightfall back in issues 10-11.  We are treated to a wonderful piece of characterization as Barbara struggles with how to be "normal" instead of always having to be Batgirl.  Then she meets with her father, who still blames Batgirl for the death of his son James.  Gordon tries to teach Barbara to use a gun, for her protection.  At first it seems as if he might know her secret, but then it's clear he doesn't.  He meets up with Batman at the end, and asks Batman to turn over Batgirl.  Batman refuses, and Gordon says he will find her anyway.  Meanwhile, Barbara, realizing that every time Batgirl shows up or is featured in the news it will be painful to her father, decides to hang up the cowl for good, and go back to being just plain old Barbara Gordon.

This is one of the best issues of the Batgirl series to date, and it shows the importance of "secret identity time" -- time with the non-heroic side of a character.  When Barbara finally does become Batgirl again, the emotional content will be ramped up that much higher because of this interlude with her secreit identity.  Simone also uses the supporting cast (Jim Gordon, Aleysia the room mate, and Ricky the date) extremely well -- she both develops them in their own right, and uses them to reveal more of Barbara's character.  I'd have given this 10/10 if the art had been better, but even so it is a darn fine issue. 9/10.

The contrast between these two stories, JL and Batgirl, could not be more stark.  The story in JL feels forced, and one definitely gets the sense (whether it's true or not) that Johns was told "have them fighting by the end of the issue" and had to rush the battle's beginning.  I'd be willing to bet that he planned to have the crossover last for another month or so, but DC forced him to finish it by the end of the issue 23 run so they could do "Villain Month" in September.  Meanwhile, Gail Simone chose to focus on the deeply personal in Batgirl, and the events logically follow, one from another, with an inevitability that makes the story seem very real.  The story in Batgirl seems to flow very naturally, whereas the story in JL is forced and very contrived.  We can easily see which one is being written for its own sake, and which one is being written as a marketing tool.

To be honest I am starting to get fed up with Johns and both Justice Leagues.  I don't know if editorial is interfering too much, or Johns is just burned out, or what, but the quality has definitely dipped.  The only thing that saved JL from being knocked right off my pull list was the final panel, where it is strongly implied that Superman did not actually kill Dr. Light, but either someone else did or (more likely) he's not really dead. If they start having Superman kill people, no matter what the reason, I am done with JL. So, I will stick with it long enough to see what the explanation is, and as long as Superman didn't actually kill anyone, I may stick around. But if it turns out he actually did kill, even while under the influence of Pandora's stupid box, I'm gone from both JL titles.

That might happen anyway... I'm starting to get so fed up with DC that my ability to tolerate the stupidity of their editorial decisions is being ground down.  One thing is for sure. From this point on, whenever a DC title drops off my pull list, I am replacing it with a non-DC title.  I strongly suspect that by this time next year, my pull list will be 70% or more indy titles.

Thursday, July 4, 2013

Man of Steel and Superman's code of ethics - or lack thereof

There's been a raging debate going on Google+ and elsewhere on the interwebs about the conclusion to the Man of Steel movie (warning -  Spoilers ahead!).  I wrote a long response to one of the threads there, and I thought I would clone it and expand upon it here on my blog, where I have the advantage of unlimited space and also better text formatting.  Again, there be spoilers below, so stop reading now if you don't want to know how the movie ends.

First of all, as I've said before, I did not like the Man of Steel movie as a Superman film, although I thought that, absent Superman, it would have made a decent action movie.  As Superman fare, however, it was dramatically lacking, and I've already named 10 reasons why.  I'd like to expand on these points a bit, and focus on three scenes in the movie that made me want to walk out.

Walk-out Scene 1 - "Maybe"

As a teenager, Clark is on a bus that ends up sliding down an embankment and into a river.  He sneaks out the door and uses his super-strength to rescue the bus and a drowning boy.  A couple of the kids notice.  Pa Kent takes Clark aside and criticizes him, telling Clark that he must keep his powers a secret because the world "isn't ready" for him.  Clark asks what he was supposed to do. Should he have let the bus go under and all the kids drown?  Pa Kent's answer is "Maybe."

Excuse me? Maybe he should let a bunch of children die? And this coming from Pa Kent, one of the great paragons of small-town integrity in American fiction?  No, I'm sorry... this is not the Pa Kent that I know and love. There is no "maybe" about it. Innocent children are at risk. You save them now, and worry about the consequences later. Clark did exactly the right thing, but he did it against Pa Kent's advice.  Costner's Pa Kent advocated a morally ambiguous "cover your own ass" course of action for his super-powered son.  That is completely alien to the personality of Pa Kent.  Can anyone picture Glenn Ford's Pa from Donner's Superman saying "maybe" here?  Or Eddie Jones from Lois and Clark?  The whole "Smallville ethic" that Superman was supposed to have learned growing up was to help people who need it.  How does "maybe" get this done?

Back in the 1980s, Christopher Reeve was asked in an interview what advice he would give to some actor who, years in the future, would try to re-create the role of Superman.  Reeve said that the key to Superman is that he's a good neighbor.  He helps people because he can.  Reeve identified this as a core early-American value, from the time of the settlers who had no one to rely upon by each other, and who would not have survived if they hadn't been "good neighbors."  Reeve is 100% correct -- Superman is a good neighbor.  And when would a good neighbor watch a busload of innocent children go into the drink, and when someone asks "should we go in and help them," responds, "maybe?"

Walk-out Scene 2 - "Protecting your ID is more important than my life."

Following on the whole "cover your own ass" theme running through Pa Kent's advice in this movie, we see Pa's absolutely ludicrous death scene.  A tornado is coming, and everyone has taken shelter under an overpass (which, by the way, you are not supposed to do, but that's a topic for another day).  Pa Kent runs back to help rescue people but hurts his leg, and cannot get back to the overpass. The Kents all know that Clark could easily save Pa -- he could super-speed out to Pa, pick him up with one finger, and super-speed him all the way to another state in a matter of seconds, if he wanted to.  But when Clark makes a move like he's going to do just that, Pa motions him back and shakes his head.  Pa gives his life... to protect Clark's secret.  Once again, Pa's implicit advice to Clark is "cover your own ass."

Again, I almost walked out of the theater after this scene.  It once again flies in the face of the small-town American value system that Smallville and the Kents are supposed to represent -- the core values that ground Superman when he later becomes a hero.  Rather than teaching Clark that he should sacrifice everything to help people (which, by the way, is what heroes are supposed to do), the Kents teach Clark to cover his own ass, even if it means letting the people he loves die. Nothing is more important than protecting himself, not even the life of his own father. Is this, really, the lesson the Kents should be teaching Superman?

Contrast this with all the other interpretations of the Kents and Superman that have existed over the years.  This "CYOA" mentality is not simply a "new direction" for the Kents, but is at 180 degree odds with everything Ma and Pa Kent have represented since Superman's debut in 1938.  Can anyone seriously picture Eddie Jones from the Lois and Clark TV show making the same gesture? And more importantly, can you picture Dean Cain's Clark obeying it?  Not in a million years would that have ever happened.  Or compare the heart attack scene with Glen Ford in Superman from 1978, and the funeral after, where a distraught Clark says, "All those things I can do... all those powers... and I couldn't even save him."  This statement clearly shows that if Clark could have found a way to save Pa Kent with his powers, he would have done so.

This "cover your own ass" mentality that is advocated to Pa Kent, even unto his death, is at odds with everything Superman represents. It's at odds with the small-town values of the Kents. It's at odds with basic human morality, which ought to say that a life is not worth more than a freaking secret identity.  And it's at odds with what heroes are all about, because the whole definition of a hero is someone who risks his ass to help others, not someone who refuses to help others to cover his own ass.

Walk-out Scene 3 - The Killing of Zod

Superman is not supposed to kill.  It's a core element of his character -- he has a "code against killing." So when he snapped Zod's neck and then yelled in anguish, I almost got up and walked out again.

The people defending the film, and especially this scene, argue that killing Zod will teach Superman the sanctity of life.  What utter rubbish! I know killing is wrong, and I didn't have to murder someone to figure it out. What, is Superman an idiot? He can't figure out killing is a bad thing without doing it at least once?

The whole "he had to kill to decide never to kill again" argument is a rationalization.  It's probably how Snyder rationalized putting it in the movie to anyone who disagreed with it. And it's how all the people who liked the scene rationalize it to the people who didn't.  But it's a weak argument, because the vast majority of people on earth understand that you shouldn't kill without having to do it first.  By the way, I also didn't have to steal once before I figured out I shouldn't steal. Or cheat on a test before I figured out I shouldn't cheat.  Or get caught being a Peeping Thom, before figuring out I shouldn't leer at people through their windows.  I mean, come on now.

So to the Man of Steel fanboys: Look, if you like a gritty, vengeful Superman who is willing to kill, then that's fine. But don't try to defend it to those of us who don't like that type of Superman, by claiming that killing is somehow necessary for his personal growth.

"This 'Super' man is nothing of the sort."

In Superman II, General Zod mocks Superman for his heroic actions, saying to Ursa, "This 'Super' man is nothing of the sort." To Zod, the weak exist for the strong to dominate them, and if Superman were truly "super" he would rule the world.

However, to us, what makes Superman truly "super," what makes him a hero, is that he stands for all that is good and true and right. He protects innocents. He defends the weak and the helpless.  He stops crime. He tells the truth. And he always brings in his man, rather than killing.  That is how heroes do things.  That's how George Reeves did them. How Christopher Reeve did them. And how Dean Cain did them.  But it's not how Man of Steel's cast and crew decided to play things. Thus, they took the 'super' out of Superman.

The basic problem is that the people who made Man of Steel don't seem to get the character, and don't understand what makes him tick.  Superman was supposed to have gotten his morality from his adoptive parents' down-to-earth, small-town USA values. He was raised by good, honest people not to hurt others, not to tell lies, and to fight for "truth, justice, and the American Way" because that's what the Kents believe in.  Those values, ingrained into him from an early age, are the stuff heroes are made from.  Superman doesn't take over the world or do other over-the-top things (including killing) because Martha and Jonathan Kent taught him right from wrong.

Or at least... they were supposed to.  But we didn't see any of that in this movie. Instead, Jonathan Kent tells him tells him over and over again to cover his own ass, which is the antithesis of heroism.  Was it out of the urge to cover her own ass that Supergirl died in Crisis 7?   No.  Risking it all to save another person is what being a hero is all about.

And Superman is the greatest hero of all. He should not cover their own ass. He should sacrifice himself to save others.  He should die rather than let one innocent person come to harm. And every other version of Superman that has ever walked across the screen, big or small, has been that kind of hero.

But in Man of Steel, Pa Kent's advice was to let a bunch of *children* drown to protect, not even his own life, but just his secret identity? That's the kind of advice Lex Luthor would give you, not Pa Kent.  And worse, Clark followed the advice and let his own father die when he could have saved him.  There's nothing 'super' about that.

I'm glad they called this movie "Man of Steel." The character in it is not worthy of the name Superman. Or as Terrance Stamp's General Zod said back in 1981, "This 'Super' man is nothing of the sort."  You tell 'em, Stampy.

Wednesday, July 3, 2013

New Comic-book Night - 7/3/13

I was a little bit disappointed today when I arrived at the comic shop, and the owner checked my folder and said there was nothing for me. I had thought that Gail Simone's Red Sonja was due out this week, but I guess it was delayed.  I think the reason is that the previous Red Sonja series, which was supposed to end in June on issue 80, has gotten behind. They apparently released issue 78 today, and have been putting them out much faster than once a month to get them finished. But my guess is, Dynamite probably doesn't want to put out two Red Sonjas at the same time.

That left me with only one new print title to purchase this month -- another Gail Simone title, The Movement #3.  Since I had nothing else to buy, I went ahead and got the final trade paperback of the 2005-2011 Supergirl series, "Bizzarrogirl."  This is the ninth out of nine trade paperbacks they published. I already have 1-5 and 7, and 6 and 8 are being shipped to me as I write this.  That will complete the fourth Supergirl series for me, except for the last 8 issues (60-67), which are not collected in any trade paperbacks.  As a result, I will have to buy them individually. I started with issue 60 today, and I plan to buy perhaps 1 or 2 a week until I have them all.



Since I am still waiting for the earlier trades, I didn't read the new Supergirl stuff yet. Thus, the only new comic I read today was The Movement #3.  A mini-review follows.

The Movement #3 - I have been teetering on the edge of dumping this series basically since issue 1.  There were multiple reasons why the first two did not go down well.  First, the art is awful. I've never seen the work of the artist, Freddie Williams II, before, but it's sloppy and unpleasant to look at.  However, I have been able to stomach bad art before in the name of a good story, so the art, while definitely an issue, is not a deal-breaker all by itself.  A second problem is that I don't like the overall concept -- which is basically a bunch of bratty teens rebelling against "the man."  Third, none of the characters are remotely sympathetic or likable, and some of them are down right repulsive (like the guy whose main power is to control rats, or the one who turns into a devil).  I've been hoping with each issue that Gail Simone can turn it around, but issue 3 was, if anything, even worse than the first two, and I can see no further point to continuing to read this series.

I tried to like this series... I really did.  But I just can't get on board with either the overall message, or with the unappealing characters.  I'm not wasting my time with this series any longer.  Time to try something else.