A Fond Farewell, And You Can Find Me Elsewhere!

Hey, all!

First off, I'd like to thank you for following this blog over the past year or so. I've enjoyed writing it, but as fate would have it, I need to move my posts to another space, also known as "Metropolis Is Actually Chicago," but located on my playwriting website. As my love of comics and my love of theatre gel more and more, I've been advised to meld the insights I have about both into one website blog. So if you'd like to keep following my high-faluting ideas about people who punch each other for a living, check my posts out at: http://sarahbowden.weebly.com/blog.html.

Thanks again for your comments and readership! Let's keep this super-train rolling!

-SaraH

The Event to End All Events! Or, is it? Dun dun DUN!

Coming up in April 2012 is Marvel's latest event to rock their superhero-ridden lines: AVENGERS VERSUS X-MEN! Who will win control of the power of the Phoenix? Will Jean Grey return? (Please, no.) And, more importantly, which heroes are scheduled to beat the tar out of each other as they race towards whatever epic conclusion Marvels promises WILL CHANGE THEIR WORLD FOREVEEEEEEEER!!!

If I sound a little snide about this whole proposal, it might be because I suffer from what I like to call "Comics Event Fatigue," or CEF, for short. It hit me around the time DC geared up for the mega event that was Superman abandoning Earth in order to infiltrate the planet his fellow Kryptonians were building just the other side of the moon. That event dragged on for months in 2009, starting with "World of New Krypton," spinning into "World Without A Superman," and culminating in a "War of the Supermen" that effectively killed off the entire supporting cast of Kryptonians that had caused the whole mess in the first place, including Clark Kent's adopted super-son Chris and his compatriot Mon-El, who had both gotten books out of the event. Useless books, given that the characters weren't given the chance to stick around and develop further in a forever-changed world with Supermen flying around. Of course, the world didn't change forever, since everyone important to changing that world died except for Superman, who'll never go anywhere, despite the current loss of his red under-trunks. And frankly, given all the brou-ha-ha over this titles-sweeping plot, at the end of the day, few of the individual books involving the event were stellar, and a loss of money, according to most Super-fans.

So no wonder I'm tired, right? Event comics because they drain my bank account and rarely deliver on what they promise. There are exceptions to that claim, however. I thought the entirety of DC's "Blackest Night"/Green Lantern zombie fest was a pretty rad and well-handled saga (even if it brought back dead white guys in favor of booting their minority successors out of leading roles, but that's a topic for another day). I also love anything involving Gotham cops and how their ordinary lives butt up against their shadowy protectors' extraordinary ones, so book-sprawling stories like "Officer Down" and "Batman: No Man's Land" are built to appeal to me.

My top favorite event storyline grew out of Marvel's "Civil War," which centered on a fight between Captain America and Iron Man over superhero registration with the federal government. That fight led to Cap's arrest and death (psych!) and generated "The Initiative," a series of books about the new teams of superheroes being trained by the government to fight crime across America's fifty states. Not only did that event freshen things up because it added new, young voices to the mix, it led seamlessly into Marvel's next event, during which alien Skrull invaders took over positions of power while masquerading as all sorts of heroes from the Marvel line. In a couple of giant leaps, Marvel was able to take all the paranoia and political confusion of the early 2000s and distill it into a rollicking superhero epic that actually had long-term effects on its characters, some of which are still being felt. (Main case in point: Jessica Drew and Tony Stark; I'd tell you why, but SPOILERS, and you should just read "Civil War" and "The Initiative," if you haven't already.)



So how does my beef with wasted storytelling opportunities relate to the main focus of this blog, i.e., how comics relate to and reflect everyday life. I guess the proof might be in the pictures. Way at the top of this post, you can find the poster for "Avengers Versus the X-Men." Below this text, you can see one of the main images released during "Civil War":

Granted, in this picture, heroes are simply squaring off, not duking it out, full-throttle. But there's enough similarities in the placement of the two groups in this poster and the "AvX" example -- one team versus the other, us versus them -- that it gives me pause as a comics enthusiast. (Actually, take a look at the other pictures in this post, i.e., the side-by-side renditions of Cap or Iron Man and company; outside of media blitz alone, would you be able to tell which was a poster for "Civil War" and which was for "The Initiative"? I'm not sure I would. Good thing there's a title under the "Avengers Versus X-Men" pic, amirite?)

It's not just a matter of, "Oh, gee, who's getting in a fight now, and why should I care about it when I can clearly find other issues where even epic-er battle royales have taken place?" (Although that is a hang-up for me.) A larger point to take away might be this: What does it say about our society -- or the comics medium -- that popular stories can't be found in anything other than our heroes fighting each other, friends and family (as zombies), or themselves?

How do DC and Marvel know that the average comic buyer will tolerate, even embrace, the retread of "my friend is my enemy" plotline over and over? "Blackest Night" made beaucoup de bucks for DC, and "Civil War" is regarded as seminal storytelling by most fans (me, included). So where does the CEF come in? For me, it comes in when I'm forced to watch "The Initiative" turn into "Dark Reign" (where Spidey bad guy Norman Osborn takes over the government-run superheroes), which turns into "The Heroic Age" (where things are generally okay, I guess?), which turns into "Fear Itself" (where SPOILERS: Thor dies), just so everything can go to hell in a handbasket in "Avengers Versus X-men." It's exhausting, riding those waves, financially and dramatically. Especially when you know a more intimate story in an individual book might get sidelined in favor of continuing the twisting story that will CHANGE THE STATUS QUO FOREVER ... until the next event roars over the horizon.

I think event comics, by and large, are perhaps more ambitious in scale than they should be. Rather than watching characters make organic choices that directly affect them, readers are forced to watch their favorite folk try to punch Captain America or get possessed by a demon and kill their worst enemy (so they won't be culpable when they regain themselves; woot, Daredevil!). And what room for the audience lies in all of that perfectly positioned sturm and drang? Are the artists at these companies actually invested in these big storylines, or are all of these events meant to generate buzz and sales and have little impact on the heroes or their readers?

If I knew, I'd have a job editing comics and a buncha awards, I imagine. But my CEF gives me the sneaking suspicion that superhero comics could tell much more important stories than they often end up telling; I'm not saying we need to overtly reference social justice in every book, as was certainly done in the 1970s Green Arrow/Green Lantern series, or allow Superman to solve the crisis in the Middle East, as was done in early 2011. I'm just saying: wouldn't it be more daring for these books to touch the ground and give their protagonists something to fight for, rather than against each other? There's a lot of fighting going on in the U.S. every day. Why shouldn't our creations engage with that on a more than superficial level? After all, "Civil War" did, and the results were thought-provoking, even as they maybe spawned Marvel's reliance on event books as a whole.

Sidebar:

I never really gave my final opinion on DC's reboot. By now, it's pretty obvious the folks at DC rushed into creating the New 52, or the DCnu, as it was first termed. But what's great, remains great: Swamp Thing, Animal Man, Wonder Woman, Batman. What started beautifully drawn, remains beautifully drawn: The Flash, Batwoman. What started solid, remains solid: Action Comics, Nightwing, Supergirl, The Huntress. What started inconsistent or playing it safe, remains inconsistent or playing it safe: Superman, Batgirl, Justice League. What started atrociously sexist, still seems to be unapologetic about its first issues: Catwoman, Red Hood and the Outlaws, Vodoo.

But I have my guesses on how long all of this will last before it's turned over for the next big thing. Clues in each comic give the impression we have a loophole out of this universe, but also: compare these publicity pictures; they say a thousand words.

How is this ...

... any different from this, at the end of the day?

Nerding Out At The Mid-Ohio Comic Con (Or, An Ode To David Mack)

At the end of October, I was lucky enough to attend the Mid-Ohio Comic Con for ten bucks. (Thanks, Groupon!) It was the last big and fun thing I was able to do before the insanity of final projects -- and finals week -- ate up the rest of my quarter (read: the entirety of November). The experience helped me power through my schooling in a major way and actually helped me out a lot as an artist, which is basically why I'm not writing about it until now, during the middle of my winter break.

Overall, this post may be more about me gushing over the awesome thing that happened while I was there, more than it might be about the social pressures that give comics their gas. But I think there might be some good in plugging some of the work and at least one artist I saw there -- to show how a reader can draw a new perspective from a book and mix it into her own life in a positive way. So, here we go.

Thanks to my pal Mark and his scouring through Columbus Groupons, I was alerted to this comics convention about three weeks before it happened. I'm not so much of a nerd that I've been to one of these events before, so I immediately bought a ticket and then logged onto the Facebook to beg everyone I knew (in ALL CAPS) to go with me. Luckily, my Wonder Woman-loving gal-pal Megan was already going to the con in order to advertise the awesome work Pendant Productions does with their downloadable podcasts (http://pendantaudio.com; check out her neato episodes on The Princess of Power). So I had a friend to guide me around.

I signed on for this event largely to wander around the Columbus Convention, stare at adult dress-up and buy obscure Superman trades. All of these things were accomplished, but after I scanned through the guest artists list on the Ohio con website, I had a new primary goal (outside of snapping discrete photos of the wilder cosplay -- all Transformers-based). David Mack was going to sign autographs all weekend. DAVID MACK (see below).

I've always loved this guy's work, and if you look to my Daredevil "The Man Without" post from waaaay back in March, I examine exactly why. All I'll say now is the man gets the way people working with disabilities or different brain chemistry see the world, and he marks it out on the page beautifully (see examples of his page layouts and story content here: http://paipicks.blogspot.com/2011/07/daredevilecho-vision-quest.html). I've never encountered another comics artist who examines how disability frames one's experience so succinctly, concretely and creatively. His books are also a delight because he consistently showcases how disability is not a disadvantage, but a large part of the tapestry that makes up one's identity.

This is something I've believed for years, thanks to support from teachers, family and friends -- but it's something you have to learn in this society; it's not an endemic outlook to believe a loss is a gain. Of course, every time I read Mack's books, a disadvantaged underdog is shown to be the true hero of the day, which is pretty comforting for a girl who lives with hearing issues every minute of her life. And perhaps my love of Mack's work is largely based on a "preaching to the choir" aesthetic, where I already buy what he's selling because I am myself disadvantaged to most people's reckoning. But on a deeper level, I find his stories to be profound explorations about how people deal with the world around them by clinging to the way they experience it. And I recognize myself in that struggle. So I was pumped to meet Mr. Mack and tell him how valuable his work is to me.

Upon arriving at the convention, I was hit in the face by the sight of the Batmobile. Well, a replica Batmobile from the campy 1960s show. On stepping to one side so everyone and their brother could snap discrete pics of it with their phones, I noticed that sitting behind the Batmobile were Adam West and Burt Ward -- not replicas. I'd never stood that close to celebrities before, and frankly, those guys are probably the two who ushered me into loving Batman as a little kid -- but I had bigger fish to fry. I located my friend Megan and we hit the floor, buying stickers and cute cartoons and chatting with web comics creators and eventually stopping in front of David Mack's table.

I saw a ton of people lined up to meet Batman and Robin when I came in, so I was surprised all the artists' booths at the back were relatively uncrowded. The pleasant curse of the Sunday at the comics con, as I understand it now. Most of the people who go on the last day are moms and dads with children who are more interested in buying stuff or running around and tagging costumes. That makes perfect sense to me, but it also left me with, like, zero prep time for what I wanted to say to David Mack. (Especially since I'd already wasted precious minutes on the floor bending Megan's ear about how my own thesis play's comic book fantasies were close to me and seemed to be registering as reductive or immature to others.) I didn't want to be crazy and tell him my life story; I just wanted to tell him I liked his books and why. And I'd assumed I would have a line to walk through to work out my words. Instead I spewed things out to Megan while the two dudes in front of us got him to sign something; memorable bon mots probably included:

"Ohmanohmanohmanohmanwhatdoisay?Youreawesomeyoureawesomeyoureawesome."
"UhIreallylikeyourworkandIdon'tknowIbetyouhearthatalot."
"IloveEchoalotlikealotalotsheisthegreatestcharacterMarvelevercreatedever!"

And so on. Luckily, I didn't have time to start having a hyperventiliating fit, so every cloud has a silver lining. When the two guys moved off, I plucked out my copy of Daredevil/Echo: Vison Quest and approached Mack.

"Hi," I started.

"Hey, how's it going?" he responded, in maybe the most relaxed manner ever for a comics genius. I looked him up and down, a genial-looking dude in a ball cap and a zip-up sweater, and I immediately relaxed, too.

"Good, good. How are you?"

"I'm good."

I don't really remember what happened next, other than to say I probably talked about how not-overwhelming the convention was, all full of parents and kids, etc. Then I dove in, trying to avoid being the biggest fangirl in the world. I lifted up my book and probably mentioned how nervous I was at least three times.

"I just want to let you know," I sputtered, "that Echo is one of my all-time favorite characters. And I really loved your work on Daredevil and his relationship with this woman who's deaf."

"Well, thank you," he grinned.

"Yeah," I said, gaining a little momentum. "It has kind of a specific resonance for me, because I'm actually hearing-impaired--"

"Oh, wow."

"So there's not a whole lot of books out there that feature women who have disabilities, or that specific disability. And there's a lot of stuff going on in Vision Quest that -- it just -- reminds me a lot of my experience of the world, growing up."

It's about this time I notice what an active listener Mack is. He keeps maybe the steadiest eye contact of anyone I've ever met, and everything about his body language is open, as he leans forward on his elbows to express interest. I immediately feel that whatever I say can't be an over-share or freak him out too much. So I open my book and flip through, looking for a specific page.

"Like, in this part of the book, you have her saying when she's playing the piano, 'It's the silence between the notes that's important.' That the silence is where she lives, as a non-hearing person. Well, that's exactly what I feel like, that everybody else can hear everything around them, but I'm designed to work through those silences. I'm constantly trying to understand or put pieces together. Does that make sense?"

And he said maybe the best thing one person can to another:

"I think I know what you're talking about."

Relief immediately flooded through me. The troubles I'd been working through in my own work about comics and pop culture and childhood fantasies and disability -- they were troubles I could surmount because there was someone out there tapping into the same struggles I was working on. I told Mack how I was taking the idea of gutters (the white space between panels in a comic book) and using them to express something similar to what he wrote in Vision Quest about varying points of view. He shook his head excitedly and began rooting around on his table.

Mack picked out some volumes of his other main series, Kabuki (actually his school thesis -- he got an A on it). "Have you ever read any of my other work?" he asked. "There's some other stuff here that I think will give you an idea of where I'm coming from, too." He gave me two issues of Dream Logic, a collage-like examination of his artistic process and signed them. And then he handed me a copy of Kabuki: The Alchemy, his latest volume of Kabuki. "This has the widest range of what I do on the page, and it's kind of in the middle of things, story-wise--"

"I don't mind that. I like being thrown into the middle of things."

"Well, I'd love to have you read that, and track me down on Facebook or Twitter or email, and tell me what you think of it," he replied.

I flipped through the book, which was, uh, beautiful, and I immediately decided to buy it. He signed the two books he gave me for free and then signed The Alchemy (which I would highly recommend as a metaphysical and plain-meta polemic about artistic achievement and the value of turning life's messes into their triumphs), and asked if I wanted Vision Quest signed, too. I handed it over and Megan and I talked to him about where we go to school and what we both do, and as we're talking to him, I realize he's been drawing my book the entire time, barely taking his eyes off of us as we're chatting. And when he hands back my book, it has the coolest caligraphy-penned freehand drawing of Echo ever. Amazing.

At this point, we decided to wander off, because now there was a line behind us. But the entire rest of my day is colored by the lovely conversation, even after Megan left for the day and I was cornered by a yelling and excitable comics vendor named Crazy Ed, who felt it necessary to share his love of Superman with me (and the fact that he'd had a Bells' palsy attack the night before), to the point where I had to buy three books from him, because he did such a good job selling them after spending the night in the hospital.

All in all, my first comic con was a super-duper positive experience, and one I found creeping into the risks I took in my own work for the rest of the quarter. For the majority of my life, I've been cool with my hearing issues, but I've also been alone with it, and I didn't know how to express what was going on with me to people who weren't me. But talking to Mack made me see the value in digging deeper into telling those stories through a comic booky vein. After all, if what he wrote and drew resonated with me, wasn't it possible something I had to say about my experience might have value for others? Needless to say, I reworked a bunch of stuff in my own thesis, and my early worries about my work being immature vanished. And I'm set to finish a strong thesis this spring.

Back to Mack's eye contact thing. A week or so later, when I interrupted my busy schedule to read "Dream Logic," I learned where it came from. Mack spends two pages in one of those issues describing how growing up, his dad never made eye contact with anybody. Later on in life, he was criticized for displaying the same behavior, and eventually he was diagnosed with Asperger's syndrome, a disorder that is apparent in stiffened social interactions and trouble with conversation. I had no problems interacting with Mack at the con, but it is pretty easy to see how he uses what many would see as a defect and internally-blocking disorder to create dreamy and creative stories that appeal to all kinds of people (while he works extra-hard on his eye contact). After reading this, I decided to really spend some time exploring disability in my own work, since there's not a dearth of stories about disability on the scene and maybe there's a way to get other people to understand what I'm going through, even if it's not what they're going through.
All this to say, I can only state that David Mack, Crazy Ed and my friend Megan are a part of a larger community that has space, form and heart for those stories. As silly as comics are, they give people the base to express themselves to an extent that I don't think I understand until after I got home that Sunday night.

Ed and Sarah Talk About Comics, Part Three!

The last two weeks of DC's comic releases have had some highs and some lows for me and Ed. The highs being things like Action Comics and Animal Man. The lows being the depiction of women in things like Catwoman and the Red Hood book. There's been a lot of discussion about the audience for cheesecake in comics, and how female readers don't need to be excluded from the audience share, but are being pushed out by awful, objectifying fantasies. Normally, I would use this blog as a forum for that, but I'm saving my thoughts on the issue for another time ... largely because Laura Hudson over at CBR does an amazing job laying out why exactly cheesecake is so awful, socially and artistically for women: http://www.comicsalliance.com/2011/09/22/starfire-catwoman-sex-superheroine/.

Also, Ed and I need to finish our last sets of comic reviews. But rest assured, I'll be watching as the round of number 2s comes out and will be back to back up Laura Hudson and numerous other bloggers, should the need arise -- aka, when my thoughts on American culture's involvement with gross nudity solidify. Anyway, controversy with Catwoman aside, here are our thoughts on this week's issues and last week's issues ...

Batman and Robin:
Sarah: While I'm not enamored of the pairing of Bruce Wayne and his biological son Damian as Batman and Robin, I have to admit that Peter Tomasi sets up an interesting dynamic in this first issue, taking Batman out of his wallowing in death, and making his quest for vengeance more about moving on with his life. How convinced I am that he'll actually move on is another story, given the violence inherent in this issue, as well as the grimness of its art work.

That being said, I like that Tomasi spends time having Bruce and Damian (a sociopathic child assassin raised by former flame Talia Al Ghul) debate the nature of reprisal. Damian sees marking his grandparents' death as a waste of time; Bruce sees it as an honor, though it's one he'll be forgoing after noting the anniversary one last time, with Damian. Bruce wants to live a better life. Damian just wants to kick ass. And he's pretty cavalier about it. So, we're left with the question of whether or not Bruce's life will be more or less complicated, as he steps into the role of father here. The best moment of the issue involves Bruce making and launching an origami boat out of the Zorro movie flyer he kept from the night of his parents' deaths. Damian remarks, "You can't just build a boat and hope darkness magically sails away in it." To which Bruce replies, "Why not? It's my boat. "

As intriguing a statement as that is, Batman and Robin is populated by two dark characters. Damian works for me when he's played off the more humorous characters in the Bat-universe, like happy-go-lucky acrobat Dick Grayson or big sister-type Stephanie Brown. Because there's not much difference between Bruce and Damian, in terms of fatalistic outlooks (much as Bruce is trying to let go of his), I wonder if I'll come back to this book month after month. A general problem I have with Batman is that he stopped being fun a long time ago (unless written by Grant Morrison), and I don't know that philosophical musings between two tortured souls is going to hold me over, month to month. Just my two cents, if Bruce's new hope doesn't stick. (And who knows, with a company this fickle in some plot aspects/character traits of its reboot, maybe it will, or maybe it won't.)

Ed: I liked the sort of "It's my goddamn boat" shot at Frank Miller. I like the dynamic of Bruce and Damian, but I still rather enjoyed the sort of "We're both trying to prove ourselves to each other" dynamic Dick and Damian had. I mostly enjoyed this, but it didn't run away with my imagination like some of the other comics we've read.

Batwoman 1:

Sarah: Six months after when it was initially supposed to be released, we finally have Batwoman 1!!! And while that's super-exciting, I wonder where this series is going to lead. Sure, it doesn't have much going on that the reboot affects; Kate Kane is still a Batwoman born into her mission because she was kicked out of the military for being gay; she's still suffering from (SPOILER!) probably having killed her twin sister, who she thought died long ago. She's still pining for old flame, Renee Montoya, even as she starts courting Detective Maggie Sawyer. All that seems to have changed here is that she's got a new sidekick in her cousin Bette, and Jim Gordon has red hair instead of white.

So what's my beef? I think it's that J.H. Williams and company aren't letting me know where we're headed. This is an exposition-heavy issue that still doesn't bother to explain why Kate is taking on a sidekick. It also features two (non-sexy) changing in and out of costumes scenes, which lets me know there's not much plot here to speak of. And frankly, any book that ends with Batman telling our heroine that they need to talk leaves me a little cold. I want this book to be Kate's. She deserves it, and honestly, she's a far more interesting character, going up against far more interesting circumstances than Batman is currently (given the fact that her tragedy is still fresh) -- and because Greg Rucka's original run on her (with Williams as the artists) was phenomenal.

But while Batman and Robin felt psychological and static in its artwork to me, Williams does not disappoint. He is one of the most brilliant layout artists I've ever seen. He transitions styles from Kate's night job to her day wanderings, and it never feels forced or confusing. Not to mention how crazy-great and kooky and involving his action sequences become, like acid trips on paper.

Overall, I'm hoping that the story gets stronger as this run goes on. I absolutely love Kate, and I want her series to define itself with an electric first storyline.

Ed: Ehhhh to this. It was pretty but didn't go anywhere. Dunno why Kate needs a sidekick? I actually don't even know who she is.

Editor's Note: Kate's sidekick is her cousin Bette, who became a superhero sometime during the period of Superman's absence back in James Robinson's run on the Big Blue Boy Scout. I have no clue how this happened (William ain't telling); I just know that it did.

Wonder Woman 1:

Sarah: I can go either way on Brian Azarello. His run on Superman made zero sense because he left important information out of his reader's grasp. So when plot twists started happening, we had no reason to care about them -- because we had no context for them prior to their reveal. But in this first issue of Wonder Woman, the lack of context works in his favor; honestly, Apollo using a self-made set of oracles in order to figure out what Zeus plans to do, and how that involves Wonder Woman makes for a rollicking read, buoyed by the primal art work provided by Cliff Chang. We don't know much of anything about Wondie by the end of this issue, but we do know she kicks butt (and apparently sleeps naked; I see this far too often in her book, frankly).

Case in point: At some point, Wonder Woman may kill a god and take their place, the oracles insinuate before Apollo fries them. Because it's Azarello, this implication is a little unclear, but it seems to be where he's headed. And Diana's also gotta take care of a girl Zeus impregnated. That's a lot to set up in a first issue, and the art team fills the pages with both gruesome and awesome action sequences. This is a book I'm really looking forward to picking up next month, despite the fact that I'm not nuts about Azarello and I really just wish a woman could write this character.

Ed: I actually dug this. more weirdness, more horror. I don't really care for Azaello generally, since he seems to be mean to be shocking or edgy or whatever, but this was exciting, and mostly free of nonsense, though agreed that diana sleeping in the nude is ... pretty dumb.

Ed and Sarah Talk About Comics, Part Two!

Ed was waaaay more proactive about getting on top of his reading list this past week, so let's start off with his thoughts on Swamp Thing #1 (which chronicles Alec Holland's recovery from the nightmare of thinking he was ACTUALLY Swamp Thing), Animal Man #1 (in which Buddy Baker struggles with how to be a hero and a family man, while finding out his daughter can do something mega-creepy) and Action Comics #1 (during which Superman gets chased by cops, forces a confession out of a crook and generally kicks butt before being ingeniously handed his own butt by none other than Lex Luthor).

Ed's Thoughts:

Alright. So i stopped by my local comic store and picked up three of the new re-launches. I probably wouldn't have picked up so many, but Challengers (best comic store in chicago, yeah?) offered a B1G1 offer with Justice League, so... free comics.

Let's break it down:

Swamp Thing #1: I'm not super familiar with Swamp Thing. I've only just started working my way through Alan Moore's run, and really, my knowledge of the character is sorely lacking. That being said, I thought this was a hell of a fun ride. Scott Snyder's never been one to shy away from gore, but he's got a great grasp on how to use it effectively, and how to use violence to serve the story. The creepy stuff in here works great, but I think the best parts are the character building with Alec. He comes off as very smart, very educated, but also humbled by his experiences, and you get the sense that he's been changed by his past. I'm really excited to see where this goes, especially since they seem to be building to a semi-crossover with....

Animal Man #1: This was fantastic and creepy and great. Buddy has always been a favorite of mine, and it's lovely to see him get another chance at a starring role. It's also good to see that Jeff Lemire understands what makes the character interesting, and that's his family. Buddy's family is sketched out really well, and that allows the story the extra emotional oomph it needs to succeed. It's so nice to see an author realize that a character's supporting cast aren't an albatross.

The direction of these two books makes me wonder about the future of the Vertigo imprint, as both of them seem like they would fit in quite nicely there. The DC universe is getting more horror-driven, it seems. (Not "darker." Batman's been plenty fucking dark for awhile, and from what I've heard about Detective #1, it's only going to get worse. Ugh.)

Action Comics #1: This was just so much fun. This legitimately felt like a fresh, new take on Superman/Clark, and I really enjoyed it. His sense of youthful brashness, his landlady bugging him for rent, "Always one of you wants to test what The Daily Planet says about me, huh?", all just so joyous. Then the transition from fun and games to the fury at civilian damage, and the ending, oh the ending. I loved this comic.

Question: I'm unsure how Clark knew the train was in trouble? That link was not especially clear to me. Ah well.

Sarah's Response to Ed:

Swamp Thing 1: I don't know much about Swamp Thing, either, but I think Scott Synder wraps everything together in a nice package here. When the story opens up, we learn everything we need to know about the character through a lovely conversation with Superman, and we get to see how he's physically struggling with the plant life that's clawing at him to return to being Swamp Thing ... or so we think!

I think it's such an amazing set-up to have a man conflicted about what he can do -- and having that man literally be chased down by the forces of nature is just icing on the proverbial cake. Seriously, when I think about what makes comics have a grand scope, it's ideas like this, where one man can save the world, but he has no clue what his past is or what his abilities are, yet the world is LITERALLY calling out to him to do something, i.e., to let vegetation choke the planet. Talk about stakes! And just when he's about to give the world what he thinks it wants (his crazy plant-growing formula), boom, there's Swamp Thing to stop him. That's a hell of a story to start us off with!

I'm really excited to follow this, not just because the story is so well put-together, but because I care about Alec Holland as a person, and the artwork goes a long way towards grabbing my interest. The creation of the tornado that dismantles and reassembles a dead mastodon, plus the opening sequences where fish, birds and bats are dying around Aquaman, Superman and Batman -- that is amazing work by Yanick Paquette.

Animal Man 1: I have also never read Animal Man before (so I guess this drawing new readers thing might be working to some degree, eh?). But I liked his turn in 52, and I love the importance of Buddy's family to him. It reminds me a bit of what The Flash used to be, where the people grounding our lead character were just as loveable and had high stakes in all the adventures surrounding the hero. I've never read anything by Jeff Lemire before, so the extra weirdness of a dude walking around as a red vein monster really freaked me out. To the point where I might be a little bit too scared to see where this story is going. But dang it, I wanna know what's going on with Buddy's little girl! So Lemire's probably got me for the next issue.

What also has me is the art. Check out those crazy wide panels, with lots of empty space and tans and beiges dominating the landscape, with Buddy's blue uniform popping off the page when it appears. So strange and otherworldly.

I'm not sure I know what the heck is happening in this comic, or with this nightmare villain. But that doesn't bother me. I know what's in danger, and I'm hoping Buddy will figure out how to fight against it.

Action Comics 1: This was a fun, fun, economical comic. A lot of people accuse Morrison of being high-concept and confusing. Sometimes that caaaaan be true, depending on how much you enjoy the crazy things he does. But people also forget what a solid storyteller he is. In this short 22 pages, he introduces us to a new Superman, introduces the supporting cast, has Clark show up for a bit and then speeds into our villains' brains, one of whom (let's be real; we all knew it was gonna be Lex Luthor) has been working to undermine our hero the entire issue. But we don't realize how UNTIL THE ISSUE'S VERY LAST PAGE!

This Superman is a revamp of the Superman Siegel and Shuster created, with the irony of a god fighting for the common man stripped away. Which is good, because I believe the need to be ironic about Supes and what he can do and why he does it -- well, those are all the things that have hurt the character over the years. This guy is Clark in that he's a farmer's son; he wears a cape AND jeans. He's Superman because he's a badass,

That bit we get with Clark talking to his landlord proves how scary Superman is, going after seemingly every wrongdoer with the pleasure of an omnipotent being. What's a regular person supposed to do with a guy who peeks through walls to see if you're behaving? Sure, he's a champion of the people, but if you step outta line, angry Superman will hop into your apartment and kick the crap out of you.

This Golden Age version of Superman is one I've appreciated more on an intellectual level, though he makes an appearance in Mark Waid's Bithright every once in a while (three words: scary laser eyes). Superman's powers and what he does with them will clearly make this an action-packed book, and one that showcases what this rougher version of the character is capable of. I dig that.

P.S.: I really had a hard time forging a connection of Morrison's here revolving around the train crash. I think Superman was supposed to think that the train tracks were faulty because the guy he forced to confess at the top of issue had paid for cheap labor to build them shoddily. And then it turned out that Lex had planted a bomb to blow the bridge? So Superman was both right and wrong about sensing danger. I dunno. Morrison doesn't always make small time jumps between panels work. And while Rags Morales is an amazing artist, I wonder if maybe he could have telegraphed this connection somehow?

Ed and I also read Batgirl #1 and were so turned off by its violence and the erasing of Barbara Gordon's disability, we found we didn't have much to say about it. We also read Stormwatch #1, but felt kinda eh about it. Certainly, I wouldn't not recommend it. I would simply say, know your The Authority, because it's hard to track the characters.

Also, if they don't make Apollo and Midnighter a homosexual couple now that they're operating in a mainstream book, there will be angry letters written by myself to DC Comics.

Riding the Lightning to Greatness: Wally West Appreciation, Part 2

In the interest of making way for several more DCnU roundtables between my friend Ed and myself, I am going to lickety-split finish up my love letter to Wally West by counting down my other ten favorite moments in his run as The Flash.

Currently these moments are not ranked in any particular way. I mean, I'm presenting in chronological order (though I have a major soft spot for Flash jumping out of a plane), to represent Wally's maturation over time -- from jerky whiner to family man in a few short lightning bursts.

BEST WALLY WEST MOMENTS,
PART DEUX

From Flash #101:

Not everything is hunky-dory for our hero after he returns from heaven to defend Keystone and make time with his lady love. In fact, she kinda can't cope with the fact he actually choose her over Speed Force heaven. Certainly it's a lot of pressure to put on a relationship. How could a person live up to a dream deferred? Wally thinks it's no biggie, Linda thinks he's not seeing the forest for the trees. Which might be a real problem, if he becomes so powerful, she can't even relate to him.

11) So in one of the most interesting allelgorical moments of Mark Waid's run, Wally -- having just realized he can share his powers with others, thanks to his return trip from Speed Vahalla --takes Linda jogging with him at 100 miles per hour. He shares part of his world with her in a way he was never able to before, while realizing that giving her the chance to live the way he does won't solve all their problems. He's only taking things one step at a time, putting in the work everyone needs to put in for their relationship to last. Linda acknowledges this, and they're off and running, a look of excitement and shock on her face. It's a beautiful moment in a complex relationship that deservedly ended in marriage and kids.

From Flash #111:

While struggling to train an impulsive protege and keep the Flash family (The Quicks, Jay Garrick and beaten up Max Mercury) from being shredded by speed ninjas, Wally also has to contend with their psychotic leader, Savitar, a man anxious to kill all speedsters and lay claim to the mysterious Speed Force that now serves double duty as heaven and power source for fast folk. In the "Dead Heat" storyline, Wally separates himself from his team in an effort to find a way to stop the cult-leading maniac.

12) A surprise visit from a descendent from the future (this happens more and more as Waid's run examines the nature of time on both a universal and human scale, i.e., proving there's never enough time, while simultaneously pointing out you can always make time for the adventures you really want to have) gives Wally the answer. He can't outrun the villain, but he can give him what he wants: eternity with the force he's hording. Wally'll run Savitar into the Speed Force, where he'll be dissolved into a billion particles of light, and no longer be a threat to friends and family. In a fluid splash page, Wally stretches out his powers and gives Savitar speed enough to reach the force. "I'll drive," Wally says with determination while Savitar cackles with insane laughter in the background.

It's an incredibly cool-looking shot, but what I love most about it is the difference in temperament displayed by our hero and the villain. Savitar spends most of his time killing his followers, in order to steal their powers and chase Flashes some more. Wally does everything he can to save his fellow heroes, and is clear-eyed enough to risk sacrificing his life for their comfort. Savitar, on the other hand, is blind to his fate, living only as an infinitesimal bit of bits, scattered across heaven and powerless.

In this arc, Wally becomes the self-sacrificing hero his uncle was, taking the step from superhero to experienced leader in a single run towards oblivion.

From Flash #117:

Brushing against the Speed Force sometimes sends you hurtling through time. Don't ask me how this works. As Waid expanded the powers gifted to Wally by hanging out in heaven, he also opened a deus ex machina that pushed Wally into different eras -- different eras he had to run through to reach his present life and love Linda Park (instant story tension, that!).

After killing Savitar, Wally gets thrown several millenia into the future, and his race back to Linda proves fraught. But not as fraught as what he returns to. A frozen popsicle of a girlfriend and a new Ice Age looming over Keystone. Man, wearing those yellow boots can be rough on a guy!

13) Wally's response to this crisis is one of his most badass moments. It involves a crazy-good bluff on the villain Polaris. Taking the purple-suited menace in a headlock, Wall points him at the glacier engulfing the city -- a glacier Polaris helped created. "So, now that I have your attention ... let's review your choices," Flash says. One: Polaris can change the course of the water and ice before it crushes him; Two: Wally can leave him to get crushed by a frozen tsunami (which he'll do, since Linda's been hurt and he owes Polaris nothing.) "Choose! NOW!" Wally shouts, as Polaris uses his magnetic laser beams to push the flow back into the river.

Pretty gutsy move from a desperate guy. But at the same time, you gotta admire a man who gives a bad person the opportunity to do the right thing.

From Flash #119:

Once things in Keystone calm down, of course all hell breaks loose elsewhere! At some point, a suneater devours the sun and the whole world is left to freeze to death, all while Linda's still recovering from being recently iced herself.

In a spin-off issue to the "Final Night" saga, Wally stops city looters and does what he can to keep from panicking about the near-certain death facing humanity. When Linda gets the chance to report about the possibility that the superheroes' last ditch plan may actually incinerate the Earth, Wally demands she not say anything, for fear of driving people into even deeper despair. She argues that people always need to be prepared for the worst, since it allows them to say what they mean, to say goodbye. At this, Wally of course runs into the night to avoid bidding farewell to his girlfriend.

14) But eventually, he ends up at a hospital waiting room, where tons of stranded people are watching Linda report the risk associated with saving the sun. And he listens to her comfort her audience, telling them to have faith in their heroes, even when the night looks blackest. "So long as their confidence shines," she says, "they will not let us down." A little girl reaches up and takes Wally's hand, and tears shimmer in his eyes. "Find the hope to let strength flourish," Linda finishes.

It's her confidence in Wally that prompts him to say goodbye to her by issue's end, to tell her loves her "till the end of time," but that he has a job to do in the long night ahead of him regardless of his fears. And he reaches this point not because he's powerful, but because people like Linda inspire him to keep moving forward. Of everything Mark Waid has to say about what heroes represent to him, this tiny thing may be most important: Our heroes are the people we believe in, but their belief in us is important for their work to succeed. It's a two-way street, in which everyone becomes a hero. Even that little girl who took Flash's hand.

From Flash #129

15) So I've already pointed out how crazy I think it is that Peter Parker and Mary Jane sold their love to the devil. But I gotta say, it's a gimmick The Flash got right. After both Wally and Linda give their love to DC Satan (aka, Neron), they expect that the reign of released hell hounds and dead Barry Allen Rogues he managed to stop running amok. Suffice it to say, they're let down. O. Henry-like bargains don't tickle Neron's fancy.

So what stops his run at taking over the world? Wally and Linda's love for one another. That's right, folks. Their love is corrupting the devil. He's even starting to give food and water to the demons he's been starving since the fall of Rome! He desperately crawls up to Earth to return their hideous kindness, but in an amazing set of panels, Wally and Linda look at one another, then look at Neron, and refuse to take their love back.

Heartbroken over their lost passion or not, Wally and Linda both understand something bigger than them is going on, vis a vis the world succumbing to a hellacious frenzy. So they bargain; they'll only ease Neron's suffering and take their love IF he returns everything to the way it was; no exceptions. He does, and they continue their happily ever after.

If anything, these panels of Wally/Linda shared thought demonstrate how alike in cleverness and brazenness the two are, and how deep their trust runs when it comes to atoning for mistakes and taking a chance on one another.

From Flash #137:

Waid needed a break on his long run on The Flash going into 1998, so he worked with hip young kids Grant Morrison and Mark Millar to keep Wally hitting new speeds in his absence. My favorite of their story arcs is "The Human Race," in which Morrison takes Waid's examination of human potential and multiples it by a bajillion, making the whole human race fight for their survival alongside their champion marathoner, Wally West.

16) Chosen to run a race imposed on Earth by inter-dimensional couch potato space gamblers, Wally struggles while running against a being from a radio frequency world (and this is one of Morrison's less wacky plots!). Exhausted after days of running across planets and through pocket universes, Wally collapses in a pink desert. The headset he wears while running connects him to Linda, who gives him the pep talk of a lifetime. Did Planet Earth ask the other Flashes to run this race? Did they ask Superman? NO! They voted for Wally West--

Wally struggles ...

--Because he's The Flash! He's the fastest man alive!

Wally finally stands up.

"And then some, baby," he says to himself as he begins to run. "And then some."

Getting up and keeping going, even when you're at your limits ... well, that's just what The Flash is all about.

From Flash #150:

In a waaaaaaaay complicated (some might argue too complicated) series of events, Wally finds himself racing across time with the other Flashes, to save each successive generation from being butchered by Barry Allen's identical twin brother, who's crazy and out to kill the legacy of The Flash, aka, everyone and everything Wally cherishes.

At the conclusion of this adventure, Wally finds all his colleagues have gone down in battle, and he alone must change the past to save everyone. Except he can't. Time and again, he tries to undo the damage that's been done, but he fails. Finally, he realizes that the greatest lesson Barry ever taught him was to put his faith in his future, in his ability to shape tomorrow -- "by living up to the standards" Barry had set. In fact, "by living beyond them."

17) He races back to the present, grabs the evil twin and shoves him up to high speed, aiming for dissolving them both into the Speed Force. A sacrifice (once again) worth making, but for perhaps the most touching reason of all: loyalty to the people one cares about. Everything Wally does boils down to the final words he shares with Barry's twin:

"I stop now, you're after Barry like a shot! You hated him! But I loved him! And do you know what that means? That means I WIN!"

And KRA-koom! The villain dissolves into eternity, the day is saved and Wally dies an honorable death (for like the millionth time). But there's no sense grieving, because Wally has fulfilled his destiny -- to surpass the legacy of the other Flashes, to do the title proud, and to succeed based not on guts or glory, but in the gift of gaining total and unselfish love.

Of course, he comes back from this one, too. But it doesn't make the end of Waid's big run on the character any less interesting ...

From Flash #159:

So The Flash finally got married in issue 159, after Morrison and Millar laid the groundwork and Waid ruined one version of a wedding. And Flash mostly gets this second ceremony together because he's worried he'll turn into a creepy alternate universe version of himself. And Linda's not having any of that. So, she objects to her own wedding, when the minister asks if anyone has any words to share, "or forever may you hold your peace."

18) Wally protests that fear of turning into alter-Flash is only one of the reasons he rushed the marriage, and in a stunning bit of business on writer Waid and long-time editor Brian Augustyn's part, he makes up his own vows on the spot, telling Linda he can't wait to find out what they can learn from each other for the rest of their lives. This, of course, melts her worries, and the two are hitched on the spot -- proof positive that no problem is insurmountable if your love is epic and you know how to communicate. Thanks for the lesson, Wally!

From Flash #205:

From the looks of the letters column at the back of each comic during Alberto Dose's run, many were not fans of his artwork. I actually found it delicate, if overly inked, and appropriate to Geoff Johns' noirish tale of everyone forgetting (including our hero), then remembering that Wally West is The Flash.

Johns took the reins from Waid and a series of guest writers, and while I don't think he gets Wally as much as his predecessor did, he built up a Detroit-like Keystone and gave Wally a dogged Midwesternness that served him well in tight jams. I highly disagree with Johns' handling of Barry's return in light of Wally's maturation since 1987 (he's downplayed all of Wally's achievements and made Barry create the Speed Force, just to give the guy a single way to be greater than the other runners), and I definitely disagree with DC's need to erase Wally from their timeline (if that's indeed what they're doing). But every once in a while during his too-Rogues heavy run, Johns found an elegant moment for Wally.

19) This one occurs after Linda's endured a tragic miscarriage, brought on by the villain Zoom, a time-displaced sociopath hell-bent on making Wally a better hero through heartbreak. Linda was going to have twins, but now she's not, thanks to a violent altercation with Zoom. And in response to that accident, Wally talked with God's vengeful spirit, aka The Spectre, and forced everyone on Earth to forget he was The Flash, including himself and Linda. After a while, he figured out who he was, but he can't tell Linda, because she's still reeling from the loss of her children.

She's sitting at their local diner, eating with Wally and talking about quitting medical school (a noble pursuit for her, while Wally's stuck fixing cars, despite his smarts at science -- seriously, GJ?), and he wonders why. She admits it's because people look at her funny when they talk about birth trauma; it's raining outside and it looks cloudy in her eyes, too. He stands, walks over to her, picks her up and holds her. And then we see the rain freeze in drops. Wally literally vibrates both their molecules in a hug to make the seconds stretch out so he can hold her longer. It is a subtle and stunning change of art. Then he lets go and tells her that they'll survive, that nothing is her fault, that her living is more than enough for him. She agrees it's fine for her, too.

And the strength of their relationship in its small moments shines through. Seriously, I can think of no other comic where a husband's comfort is showcased as a heroic moment. Which, of course, it is.

From Flash: Rebirth #6:

Like I said, I'm not nuts about how Barry Allen was made the center of every speedster's (and everyONE's universe in "Flashpoint") during his reintegration as the prominent hero-runner at DC. And I think Flash: Rebirth is a largely wasted opportunity to bring new fans to the book; GJ does almost nothing to explain any of the subjects mulled over by various writers over the years, including the Speed Force, and he can't stop Barry Allen from being boring as paint, or someone we can cheer for outside his old feats.

But there is one way Johns succeeds. It's in a moment of extreme Wally fan service, but it also serves as a nice closer to over twenty years of stories about a young man looking up to, surpassing, and then redeeming his mentor through heroic actions and building a family of his own.

20) And so we come to our final moment with Wally West. By the time Flash: Rebirth rolled around, Wally had kids, the twins who were restored to him through a twist in time, and had taken a confident place at the head of The Flash family table. So when Barry returns from death, he has to step up and help his mentor readjust to society and find a purpose in being alive again.

There's a bunch of malarkey about Professor Zoom, the Reverse-Flash, creating a negative Speed Force (is that hell?), and none of it makes much sense. But things get serious when Zoom runs back through time to kill Barry's wife and Wally's aunt, Iris. Understandably, Barry freaks out and barrels ahead without conserving his energy, burning out and sure he'll lose the only woman he's ever loved. Then Wally appears in the timestream, running hard and grasping his uncle by the arm, saying, "I've got you."

"I've got you." He sure does. Wally may have had to carry the mantle of The Flash only to return it to Barry Allen, but his run on the character deserved all the praise it got. Wally strapped himself in for a wild ride and never gave up; even when facing insurmountable odds, he was always able to quip a joke and think up a solution to the problem facing him, all while learning from his mistake and honoring those who came before.

That's some hero.

I hope he returns someday.

We should be so lucky.

Ed and Sarah Talk About Comics, Part One!

So, my comics aficionado friend Ed and I have taken it upon ourselves to review a variety of the DCnU books as they come out over the next couple weeks. We've decided, for this first post at least, to share with you some brief thoughts we had about Justice League #1, the flagship title in the revamping of the entire DC Universe.

Below is a synopsis of the book, a look at the art and then our conversation about the book as a whole:

JUSTICE LEAGUE #1

Synopsis: We're five years in the past, when heroes were fresh from the mint. This book begins with an ominous showdown between Batman and some Gotham City cops; he's being chased over roofs for criminal activity of some kind, mostly the crime of being real instead of an urban legend.

But before the cops can gun him down from helicopters or whatever, this happens ...

Well, who else could be behind that little green fire engine that could? Nobody but:

Green Lantern, who can't believe Batman's real, and whom Batman dislikes for drawing attention to himself. As they escape the cops and go after some weirdo monster, mostly they discuss their disbelief in each others' methods and existence. Case in point:

This goes on for a while. Like, for pages and pages, as they debate whether it's better to be a flashy optimistic space-cop, or gritty and fearsome and a scourge of the night.

Then they see that weirdo monster in the sewers, and when it cries out:

... it blows itself up. At least that's what Green Lantern and Batman think it does. Oh, and somewhere along the way, they pick up a weirdo box (better known in pre-DCnU land as a mother box), and wonder what its deal is.

They figure it might be alien technology. And they only know one alien. That guy in Metropolis. So they fly over there in a cool green light jet made from GL's mind and zoom past a young football star Vic Stone, who's got problems getting his superhero scientist dad to come to the big games where scouts want to sign his son for hot college scholarships.

Then Bats and GL land in Metropolis, arguing about who's going to approach this strange visitor from another world. GL decides to saunter right into his quarters and smack him around a bit. Surprisingly enough, Superman isn't having this and punches GL's lights out. Then he stands before Batman and says:

Cliffhanger issue ending!

Sarah and Ed's Thoughts

Sarah Getting the Ball Rolling:

Okay, Ed, after reading the issue a few times, here are my thoughts ...

DC is shifting its Big Three Trinity; no longer is it Batman, Superman and Wonder Woman, their three biggest legacy characters. It's now Bats, Supes and Green Lantern, a character with the most convoluted of all origins. This is not a slam to him necessarily, it only tells me that DC's emphasis is no longer on the wonder and impressiveness of their big three anymore, at least not in this book. Justice League will be all about what sells the best.

This is not to say Wonder Woman isn't confusing, but that's because writers made her that way, to fit their whims or what they thought might sell her books. Hal Jordan's GL is a character who's been twisted inside-out often enough, and whose basic ingredients have been rewritten time and time again, all to make him cool to readers in the moment (he's not fallible to yellow anymore, he never killed a planet-full of people -- a bacteria or something made him do it etc.). He's not timeless like Batman (the avenger) or Superman (the symbol of justice and prime male physique) or Wonder Woman (the epitome of female love and danger). Having him present in the first issue of Justice League tells me this rewrite focuses less on the myth of superheroes and more on the accessibility of superheroes.

Which okay, fine. But accessibility is impossible! Because superheroes don't EXIST in real life. Why make things edgier with heroes on the run and scared of one another in a five years' prior timeline? What does that running-scared story -- that origin story, nonetheless -- tell me about my everyday life?

I have to say this is a safe comic. Barely anything happens, other than establishing the characters' temperaments. Also, the fact that Geoff Johns writes the most ridiculously exposition-heavy dialogue ever needs to not go unnoticed. Especially considering he has to explain where GL's from for almost two pages and also why these characters aren't accepted by mainstream society -- and in both cases, the explanations take up valuable action time.

I feel bad that I don't have more to say about this narrative or the art, but I legit don't care much about this origin story, when there's little in the way of stakes as to whether or not these heroes care about each other. I assume next issue, Superman and Bats'll fight and learn from their misunderstanding in the way Hal and Bruce didn't. But what does that mean, when we're living in a world where heroes are scarce? I dunno and that's an issue, aka, a problem in a rebooted world.


Ed's Response:

I guess I've never really bought into the idea of the "Big Three." I mean, the book is the Superman/Batman Adventures, you know? So, the idea that they're shifting focus from WW to GL doesn't particularly bother me, nor does it come as a surprise. GL is one of their main properties, especially with the Color Corp and whatnot. I guess my big problem with this whole reboot, and especially this "FIVE YEARS IN THE PAST" conceit, is that I just don't care about these characters with their mistakes stripped away. To me, Hal Jordan was only an interesting character when he was unsure of himself, either be it through his road-trip with Green Arrow, or post-Parallax. Cock-sure fighter pilot Hal Jordan is aggravating, and I found myself hoping Batman trapped him in a yellow room and kicked his teeth in. This complaint goes for Bats, too. After reading the past couple of years of Morrison's work, it's hard to be invested in this sort of clean slate Batman. I vaguely like the idea of GL being a stark contrast to Supes and Bats (both of who are tremendously aware of their power, and their need to control it), while Hal is all "HAI GUYS I FOUND THIS RING AND HAVE NOT SPENT YEARS LEARNING HOW TO HANDLE MYSELF," but I don't feel like it's going to be explored more than "Shut up, Hal." "No, seriously, shut up, Hal."

Pretty much nothing happens here. I think this will read better in trade, but I think it was a big mistake to make this the flagship issue of the DCnU, especially at the price point of $4. How many splash pages were there?

[Editorial Answer: Too many. A lot of people like Jim Lee and he brings a cinematic scope to his work at times. But here a continuing problem pops up, which is the lack of facial emotions in his characters.]

Sarah's Response:

Agreed on your points about this clean slate thing. I don't really care whether or not anyone gets blown up by a mother box because I don't know these characters. I know a lot of people might find the "new yet familiar" approach exciting. I myself have a hard time investing in a story where we learn about the world solely through exposition and not the characters' actions. Because while I love the idea of these guys meeting and having to forge an alliance in theory ... in practice, it gives me the snoozes. Because I no longer know their archetypes or origins, I have no idea of their motivations or their skill sets. I don't know what choices they'd make or why. So why would I spend four bucks and my valuable time on these cookie cutter versions of characters I used to know?

Frankly, I have a hard time believing these guys haven't been heroes for very long (even if in just the public eye), because what they do here is so blah-blah generic superhero stuff, i.e., "Let's handle things attacking us; now let's figure out the mystery; now let's be sidelined by an evil minion, and even more sidelined by another character's surprising arrival (here, Superman)." To me, it all reeks of very calculated plot points meant to not scare people away. Which makes me sad. Because if you're going to go a new direction, why not tell an origin story in a different way?

Ed's Response:

Well, I don't want to sound like I'm hating on the reboot just because it's a reboot. I loved the way Ultimate Spiderman started, the way we got to know everyone involved in the story even before the costume showed up. The stakes were explained, like you mention, through actions and characterization, not through "YOU'RE THE BATMAN. I DIDN'T THINK YOU WERE REAL. YOU FIGHT CRIME." word balloons.

It (the story) does feel really... pat, i suppose is the best way I can put it? Bats is grumpy, Hal is cock-sure, there's a monster! There's a mystery! There's Superman! Darkseid! I'm interested to see how Gotham's super villains are explained away, since Batman is still a myth right now.

I guess I kind of wish all the JL-ers had their single titles come out so you kind of knew the status quo before seeing them all meet? I guess I also wish there was a story here.

Well, that wraps up our first DCnU roundtable discussion. Don't be too sore about it, Bats! We'll be back to talk about other titles later this week!

POST-SCRIPT: I know we didn't spend any time talking over the Vic Stone section of this book. It's pertinent in that Vic eventually becomes Cyborg, a member of the Justice League. But this was a snippet of his story, and I can't tell where it's going, based on the scant amount of time dedicated to it. I felt it best not to comment on it until it develops into an actual narrative.