But, you know what, I’ve spent so little time with Thor comics of this era that there is a certain novelty to them. For most of us, these comics fall into that broad, ambiguous category of ‘Thor comics between Kirby and Simonson’ where maybe some John Buscema issues may get some notice, maybe that Roy Thomas-led Eternals/Celestials stuff, but not much else. There’s something fun about diving into some ‘generic’ Thor comics and seeing what exactly that means.
For the most part, it means a lot of Donald Blake and a lot of sad sack manoeuvring to make his existence tolerable. The odd contradiction in the character is that it’s recognised that Blake is not a real person, that he is a creation of Odin who existed solely to teach Thor about humility by living as a mortal, and, yet, Thor cannot give up his ‘life.’ Even though he has no job, no money, no reason to actually live. His one possible justification is his incredibly skill as a doctor, except that is constantly sabotaged by the demands of being Thor as well. Unlike a Peter Parker who has always been Peter Parker and dons the identity of Spider-Man due to a moral calling where you can see how he’s in a bind regarding priorities, no such dilemma exists with Thor and Blake. As we see when Simonson does away with the human alter ego in issue 340, there is no reason for Blake anymore aside from convention, inertia, and a bit of nostalgia. Blake is there because Blake was always there.
Not only is Blake there, you could make a strong argument that he’s the central character of these issues. Everything revolves around him, his need/quest for a job, and the charade that is his life. Moench inherits Blake trying to re-establish himself by working at a small clinic in a poor area of New York, ends that in relative short order, has Blake do some work for Tony Stark before setting him up for a move to Chicago, which is, coincidentally, Moench’s hometown. Despite the change in scenery and Moench’s familiarity with Chicago, it doesn’t result in much substantive change. There’s a bit of a love interest in an old med school classmate who prompts the move and that’s about it. The only way that you can tell that Thor lives in Chicago is that the surface details are no longer New York specific.
The relationship between Thor and Blake remains unchanged after the move: Blake tries to have a normal life and it is disrupted by Thor. What’s lacking is a reason for Blake at all. Why does Thor maintain this fake life his father made up? The closest we get to an explanation is in issue 324 when Blake is in New York at Avengers Mansion and winds up having an all-night conversation with Janet Van Dyne: “AND THOUGHT I KNOW DON BLAKE IS A FALSE PERSONA CREATED BY ODIN, WHEN I’M JIM, HE SEEMS JUST AS REAL AS THOR!” It’s not the strongest explanation for why Thor maintains being Blake. Blake feels himself to be a real person despite the shared mind with Thor and the knowledge that he’s not a real person. Does Thor maintain it only because of the enchantment where he’ll revert to Blake if he stops holding Mjolnir for 60 seconds? Is it a compulsion? A secret desire to be mortal? It’s never explained and, 40 years later, it hangs over these comics. Unlike nearly every other superhero with an alter ego, Thor can walk away from this one. Blake, basically, doesn’t exist as far as the rest of the world is concerned most of the time and it’s only his efforts to re-establish his life that reform connections with the world. Thor could easily let this persona fade away, barring the enchantment, which Odin could easily remove. Would abandoning Blake be akin to murder, perhaps?
That unwillingness to inflict such permanent harm on another, even a fake other, would line up with the most consistent qualities of Thor throughout this run: his unwavering nobility and goodness. His steadfast belief in doing ‘the right thing’ and acting ‘honourably’ drives almost every action that he takes. To a certain extent, Thor lacks any other personality traits. At times, it comes off as almost too good. Too sickly sweet, if you know what I mean. Once he decides on what is right, he does not budge, stubborn to a fault. In some cases, like his conflicts with Mephisto, it makes sense; in the more ambiguous case of the menagerie of mythical animal-like creatures who transform the bodies and minds of some humans, it’s less clear, especially when they show that it is very much a merger of the two beings, not a possession.
Even with Thor’s straight ahead morality, there are some grey areas in these comics, usually through either misunderstandings like with the Scarlet Scarab or the Death-Demon, both well-meaning characters whose true intentions need to be worked out (after a bit of fighting) or with situations that are less clear-cut, like with the menagerie. Or, with issue 311, the most morally complex issue of the run, and the only one that feels like it could be published now.
“Grief More than a God May Bear” tells the story of a young black man shot by the police after one of the officers thinks he’s reaching for a gun when he is, in fact, reaching for pills for a heart condition. He’s taken to the clinic where Blake worked and the outrage over the shooting causes members of the community to storm the clinic and plant themselves in front of it. Of course, the police then respond in force and tensions run high as both sides stand off, ready to engage in violence at any provocation. After he seemingly saves the boy’s life in surgery, Blake transofmrs into Thor to try and ease tensions, mostly through lecturing, disarming many with Mjolnir, and, finally, creating a literal chasm in the road between the two sides. While he gives a big speech, the boy’s heart condition results in his death and it’s only the boy’s mother who manages to defuse any violence. The issue ends with her and the police officer who shot her son exchanging meaningful glances of grief, while Blake is suspended for abandoning his patient (to be Thor). It’s a very ‘both sides’ comic, bending over backwards to make both sides seem equally prone to violence and anger, and to regret and grief. It’s very simplistic, particularly in the way that Thor focuses on defusing any and all violence with no regard for consequences or the systemic reasons for what happened. Why are members of the community so quick to anger that they’re willing to violently burst into a local clinic? Why is the officer that shot the boy still amongst the assembled officers, still on duty? How in the world are we to stomach the panel where the officer and the boy’s mother seem to give knowing glances? It’s the sort of issue that’s good for raising a very real problem and that’s about it. The moral complexities lie in the implications.
But, they also lie in the moral simplicity of Thor, so convinced of the rightness of his actions that he never considers the obtuseness of his judgment – nor the consequences of choosing to act as Thor over remaining as Blake. If ever there was a moment that justifies Blake’s continued existence, it’s this issue where he seemingly saves the boy’s life with surgical skill that, apparently, only he possesses... and, then, he leaves. It’s suggested that nothing could have saved the boy, but, as Blake’s boss tells him, they’ll never know because his incredibly talented doctor wasn’t there. The larger implication is that, as we see Blake struggle to maintain a consistent life, given his profession and the amount of good he could do, particularly as the other half of an immortal god, is the moral thing for Thor to abandon being his Asgardian self and devote even more of his existence to Blake? It’s odd that that question is never broached. For all of the challenges in maintaining both lives, the idea of choosing one is unexplored, even as the justification for maintaining both is never offered.
The run is an entertaining one, make no
mistake. Its flaws are the strict superficial level of morality and character
depth that it rarely wavers from. Blake struggles to have a life, while Thor is
Thor, a steadfastly moral and honourable god. A common tactic to give Thor the
illusion of depth is for the true motives of his enemies to actually be good or
misunderstood, making the character seem reasonable and flexible by not
continuing to pound them with his hammer. Instead, it simply makes him not so inflexible
as to be a moron. When it comes to truly tough choices, he tends to stick to
the middle ground. But, what else can you expect?
