The Immortal Thorsday Thoughts 08

It’s actually a little shocking how little Al Ewing changes to the story of Gaea, Atum, and the Elder Gods. The biggest change, by far, was the taking the idea of Utgard and applying it to the pre-existing mythology of the Marvel Universe. If you ignore adding certain gods and their connection to Thor via retcon, the largest change is one of tone, particularly when it comes to Gaea. Looking at the past appearances of the Earth Goddess, it’s genuinely shocking to get this lumbering figure with vines for hair, something more primal and monstrous, something cold and unforgiving. It’s not the mother that we expect – nor Thor. While there are some obvious influences like the Green from Swamp-Thing from Alan Moore on down, the one that I thought about was a little less obvious, yet appropriate for a Thor comic:

Odin in Thor #491.

Meant to completely upend the idea of a Thor comic, the four-part Worldengine by Warren Ellis and Mike Deodato, Jr. was quite a shock when its first issue came out. A dark, messy book, full of intricate lines, hand-written diary captions, and a Thor who spoke like a typical human due to some unforeseen illness that has left him sickly and weak. In a moment of desperation, he calls out to his father for help. At this point, Thor was exiled from Asgard and had made it very clear during the previous run under Roy Thomas that he had no interest in ever returning to his father’s court. Odin arrives before Thor, a giant vision in the sky, in full armour, sitting atop a skull throne, dark eyes, and, when he spoke, letterer Jonathan Babcock used a font meant to mimic runes. He spoke of how he could see all of creation, so why was he now looking at his greatest failure? Thor indicates that he needs help, because he’s dying, and Odin says with a grin: “GOOD.” He tells Thor that he’s been insolent, disrespectful, and he’s chosen Midgard over Asgard, so this is the consequence. “DIE WELL.”

It’s such a cold and brutal version of Odin, one that still hangs in the back of my head, forever colouring how I view the character. While Odin was often capricious and quick to rash judgments, this was that side of him taken to the Nth degree. It’s the sort of transformative depiction that Ewing and artist Ibraim Roberson give Gaea in The Immortal Thor #8. A logical transformation of the character taken to an extreme that, while shocking, makes sense, particularly within the context of the run.

Taking the prologue of Thor annual #10 that tells of the creation of the Elder Gods, their war, the birth of Atum, and his slaughter of those Elder Gods, eventually transforming into the Demogorge, Ewing doesn’t really change much. He adds new gods and places the emphasis in different specific places, but it’s less about taking that story by Alan Zelenetz, Mark Gruenwald, and Bob Hall, and turning it into something new as it is placing it within a new context. It’s an interesting approach to the retcon where the only major change is the scene involving Utgard-Loki giving Gaea the key to the gates (that Thor and Loki entered somehow...!). Otherwise, he simply takes the story of Gaea wanting to prioritise the continued existence of life and change that she asks the Demiurge for a son and that son, Atum, ends the destructive war of the Elder Gods.

But, taking that same urge to protect life and stop destruction, and apply it to Gaea opening the gates of Utgard to wipe humanity from the Earth before its destructive ways permanently make life impossible? Ah, now that’s about more than just rearranging old bits of continuity from mostly-forgotten annuals. While it would then lead into some more direct social commentary in the coming issues, this element of the threat of Utgard never quite takes hold. It becomes a minor explanation for how they are no longer locked in their realm, a reason to set Thor against Dario Agger once more and fall into the trap set by Amora (with Skurge in the wings). It’s only in The Mortal Thor that we’re possibly seeing a resurgence of this element of the story, of the redemption of humanity to become worthy of the Earth again...

While I draw a connection between Ellis and Deodato’s Odin and Ewing and Roberson’s Gaea, where Odin called Thor his greatest failure, Gaea, after demeaning him, eventually calls him her mercy. He is her gift to humanity to, possibly, save them. It’s not often that we get direct allusions to Christ with Thor, but this is a bit of a big one. This also sets the stage for The Mortal Thor where Thor literally becomes a human on Earth. At the time, this issue seemed like it was meant to simply set up the confrontation with Agger and provide a bit more backstory to the Elder Gods and Utgard, but, now, it looks more like the first big sign of things to come. A promise of a Thor no longer a god, a ‘mere mortal’ on Earth, armed only with his sense of justice and a hammer, trying to avert an apocalypse created by ‘men of vision.’ Will it be enough? It’s hard to tell if Gaea thinks so here or not...

“I think, at the end there, the old man cared. / But not quite enough.”

* 

The Immortal Thor #8 breaks with what came before by having an epigraph not from either of the Eddas. Over the course of the 25 issues (and, so far, two issues of The Mortal Thor), the main source of epigraphs are the Eddas with Ewing only going outside them seven times, beginning here. Looking instead to the poem “Earth” by William Cullen Bryant, it’s a fitting departure as, with its focus on Gaea and Marvel’s mythology, Ewing is straying from the Asgardian side of Thor. Very little of this issue is rooted in the stories and ideas of Norse mythology, instead focusing on that first war that so terrified Gaea that she was willing to choose slaughtering her fellow gods rather than have the possibility of life end; a choice she’s making again by using some of the surviving gods to wipe out a similar threat in humanity.

A mournful poem, “Earth” is a bit of break from Bryant’s more romantic leanings (despite his breakthrough poem, “Thanatopsis” also focusing on death) with its ruminations on the trampling over nature by humanity and the destruction done to itself in war and oppression. It’s a fitting work to draw from and allude to as a whole. That’s partly what epigraphs do and Ewing continually leans on. Rarely is the single portion of a work that he chooses to quote why he’s chosen it; it’s the piece that points to the whole. He couldn’t very well have Marvel reprint the whole of “Earth” and expect readers to work their way through the whole thing. But, by picking out a piece that can be applied fairly literally (Gaea voicing her complaints in two instances, and her godly sons answering the call) that also points to a longer work that provides a more complete thematic connection, Ewing is adding to the issue. It’s a bit of an unsubtle version of an allusion, I suppose. A modernist approach to adding depth and additional meanings to the work. How far you wish to take it is up to you. Do you just stick to the epigraph? The poem? The larger body of work by Bryant? His life? How much is Ewing meaning to direct you towards? When it comes to quoting the Eddas, the connection is a bit clearer and easier to interpret. But, maybe I’m talking myself into a hole akin to a grad class I once took on Eliot’s The Waste Land that involved reading the entire works that he referenced or stole a line from...

But, despite the coming dalliance in a bit of postmodern playfulness, The Immortal Thor is very much a modernist work of fiction. One that revels in its influences and bits of culture and history that it builds itself upon. The way that continuity hangs so heavy over mainstream superhero comicbooks lends itself to modernist works, ones that take from what came before and build upon it, smash it against one another, see what happens when you take a bit from here and there and make something new out of it. And Ewing isn’t shy about this. Much like Eliot, he throws a lot of what he takes from in your face, using the letters column like Eliot used the “Notes on The Waste Land” section at the end of the poem to point the way a little... You’re meant to dig a little deeper and gain a little more insight into the work. Doing so, you may pick up bits like the closing lines of “Earth” that strike me as quite fitting here:

O thou,

Who sittest far beyond the Atlantic deep,

Amongst the sources of thy glorious streams,

My native Land of Groves! a newer page

In the great record of the world is thine;

Shall it be fairer? Fear, and friendly hope,

And envy, watch the issue, while the lines,

By which thou shalt be judged, are written down.

*

Next week, The Immortal Thor #9 and Roxxon Presents Thor #1.

The Immortal Thorsday Thoughts 07

The Prose Edda. The Younger Eddas. Thor #272. The Immortal Thor #6-7.

Call your source what you will, they all contain the same tale, but none are the same. Thor and Loki (and others) are travelling and find themself in a land where everything is giant. They seek shelter in a cave that turns out to be the glove of a giant who calls himself Skrymir. He is journeying back to his home, Utgard, and offers to let the two tiny gods travel with him. When he goes to nap, he tells them that they can eat whatever they want in his food pouch, which is tied with a loose knot. However, Thor is unable to loosen it despite his great strength and, in a rage, smashes his weapon upon Skrymir’s sleeping head. However, Skrymir wakes up and barely notices the blow. He travels on ahead, taking such giant strides. When Thor and Loki eventually reach Utgard, they are confronted by the lord of the castle, Utgard/Utgarda-Loki/Utgard-Loki, who, in exchange for their presence, says that they must prove themselves. In a series of trials, Loki loses at an eating contest, Thor is unable to empty a drinking horn, someone loses in a foot race, Thor is bested by the strength of an elderly woman, and Thor is unable to lift a cat up off the floor. In the end, Utgard-Loki reveals that he is Skrymir and that every test was a trick: Loki was competing against fire in the eating contest, the other end of the drinking horn was connected to the sea, the race was against their own thoughts which always went far ahead, Thor wrestled with old age, and the cat was actually the Midgard Serpent. In fact, even the difficulties with Skrymir were tricks: Thor actually smashed a mountain in two, and the food pouch was fastened with something stronger than a loose rope. Having had his fun, Utgard-Loki and Utgard disappear, leaving Thor and Loki to go on their way.

That’s roughly the story that each of these works tell. The shape is the same, the details differ.

When you put Thor #272 next to The Immortal Thor #6-7, there is actually very little overlap. I couldn’t find even a single panel where Al Ewing and Martín Cóccolo directly duplicated the work of Roy Thomas and John Buscema. Only Skrymir and Logi (the eater/fire) look similar in both versions, every other character/locale looks a little different. The flows of the stories are different, obviously drawn out a bit in the two-issue version, even with the various asides from Thor and Loki to comment upon the story. But, really, it’s only the broad shape of the story that remains the same, like both are following the same plot summary/bullet points, but each do it their way.

The first reason for this is the most obvious: there was 46 years between the comics. Sensibilities have changed, so directly recreating Thor #272 would be completely out of step with comics as they are today. Moreover, the comic already exists, so why recreate it directly? But, many comics recreate/reference old comics by doing a modern version of certain panels/moments where part of the fun is in dropping something old into something new. Like I said, I couldn’t find even a single panel that overlapped. At no point does Ewing use even a single line of dialogue directly, nor does Cóccolo copy the staging of a panel. Yet, in both issues, Dario Agger is seen reading Thor #272 with the Enchantress and Skurge looking over his shoulder. The cover of his version is identical to the one published in 1978 in our world, presumably in his as well. After all, he bought the fictional Marvel Comics that exists in the Marvel Universe and, of all of the comics from our world that could exist in theirs in roughly the same form, this issue would be it, based on a story from Norse mythology. The version that Agger reads, though, is the one that we’re reading... in The Immortal Thor #6-7. As I said last week, this is a commentary on the nature of the retcon in comics. The new replaces the old in official continuity. Now that we have The Immortal Thor’s telling of the tale, what use is Thor #272? And what do the changes mean going forward (and backward)?

More than that, the new version isn’t what happened any more than the old version was. Here, it’s a story that Loki (in the form of Thor’s enemy) tells Thor; there, it was a story that Thor told some children. In The Prose Edda, it’s a story that three forms of Odin (High, Just-As-High, and Third) tell Gangleri (King Gylfi in disguise while journeying, much as Odin changed his name while doing the same) when he visits their court. This isn’t fact or history, it’s always a story told. 272 is Thor telling a story of when he was small and overmatched to some children to show them that he understands what it’s like to stand up to a strong bully. In The Immortal Thor, Loki is repositioning the story to no longer be the Utgard of mythology (the outer land), but the new Utgard of this comicbook. Where Utgard-Loki isn’t simply a powerful trickster whose name is meant to echo that of Loki, but an archetypal god upon whom Loki is based/stems. As we know from the first and final issues of The Immortal Thor, Loki is the one that brings the Utgard gods back (or gives Gaea the means/opportunity) only to take their access away, basically severing the links between Utgard-Asgard-Midgard, as part of a larger plan to free everyone (whatever that specifically means). These issues are a crucial step in this specific story spell wherein these Utgard gods are retconned into the history of Thor and Asgard (as is Lukki... once we’ve caught up with him).

That’s the obvious thing about the story of the Utgard gods, yet something that most readers gloss over: they’re a retcon. Ewing is intricate and evasive in how he pulls it off. Sometimes specific, sometimes vague, usually couched in ideas that superhero comicbook readers are familiar with (the idea of archetypal versions of existing characters creating a broader mythology). Basically, every origin can be mined for more detail, more depth, more story. Skim the letter columns of these early issues as readers toss out theories for the Utgard gods and Ewing never confirms, never denies, always acknowledges as a possibility. Are they the same gods in the shadows from Ragnarok who would elevate Thor if he doesn’t break the cycle? Mmmmmmmmmmmaybe! And, here, Ewing, being the clever, funny guy that he is, takes a Roy Thomas-penned comic and retcons it to be a different story for his own purposes as if Roy the Boy isn’t the Original Retcon King. Oh ho ho.

A retcon here isn’t just a retcon. Story magic acting upon beings that live inside a story makes it history. The Utgard gods weren’t until they were and, then, they always were. “THE STORY’S CHANGING AS I READ IT,” Dario says in issue six. That’s how it works. You can’t unread what you’ve read, unsee what you’ve seen. You can love it, hate it, wish you’d never read it, but, once you have, the past has changed. You read The Immortal Thor #6 and 7 and, then, you go back and reread Thor #272 and who is Utgard-Loki in that comicbook from 1978 by Roy Thomas and John Buscema? Can you read it as you once did? 

Utgarda-Loki answered, “That would be an accomplishment, if you are up to it, and feats such as that will be put to the test.” (The Prose Edda by Snorri Sturluson, trans. Jesse Byock, pg. 58)

*

“That will indeed be a feat,” said Utgard-Loki, “If thou performest what thou promisest, and it shall be tried forthwith.” – From Thor’s Adventures on His Journey to the Land of the Giants, The Younger Eddas of Snorre Sturleson

The Immortal Thor #7 is the final issue Martín Cóccolo draws as the regular artist on the title (he would return for a page in issue 19). In this issue and the previous, he attempts to hold his own by drawing the same story originally drawn by John Buscema. While Al Ewing can have his fun by playing with Roy Thomas’s retelling of a story from The Prose Edda, inviting direct comparison with one of the comicbook artist greats is no small task. Buscema is, now, more well-remembered for his work on the likes of The Avengers and various Conan comics, his time on Thor falling in that somewhat hazy void between the giants of the title, Kirby and Simonson. While he’s discussed in positive terms, Buscema isn’t usually put at the same level as a Kirby or Ditko, maybe not even a John Romita. He seems to be regarded as a talented artist, but also just ‘there’ throughout a large period of Marvel. That strong company artist whose look is so associated with the house style of the company for the period of his peak. Which, to me, is actually a huge compliment – a sign of how great he was that the look of his art defines the look of the entire publisher to a certain extent.

Cóccolo’s style is very much of the current Marvel time. Coming from Uruguay (at least according to the flag in his social media bios), he’s part of the push from the company under Akira to look beyond the America/UK for artists. While it’s resulted in artists from all over the world working for the company, it’s also bred its own sort of house style, one very much influenced by Stuart Immonen’s art. Similar line work, similar visual looks, each a bit different, but all sort of orbiting that artistic sun. Clear, strong lines without a lot of unnecessary details ala the Image founders. Without seeing the original line art, it’s hard to tell how much of the depth we see is intended and how much comes from Matthew Wilson’s colour choices. This is an underrated element of modern comics art that wasn’t as available to artists like Buscema, where the colourist will use different shades and gradients to add another layer of depth to the art. Wilson’s work with Cóccolo really impressed me during my recent reread and was in a nice groove by this point, having really hit their collaborative stride around issue three/four-ish.

But, to get back to Thor #272 and The Immortal Thor #6-7 specifically, just as the writing’s purposes are different in the old and new, so too is the art. As Thomas was trying to adapt a story from The Prose Edda using Marvel’s Thor and Loki, Buscema was trying to present that story in a direct, literal manner. It was meant to be visually interesting, but also clear, following that old adage that you should be able to follow along even if you don’t read the words. Aside from the opening splash, no page contains more than four panels, most in the 5-6 range, and almost always in a grid with no stacking. Cóccolo, on the other hand, over the course of two issues, sits mostly in the 3-5 panels per page with a lot more variance in layouts. He only reaches six panels twice and a single page that is eight equal size panels 2x4 for a very specific effect. He’s also managing the various versions of Thor and Loki that switch throughout the story from tellers to parts of the story-within-the-story. Even the ability to go full bleed on the art gives Cóccolo so much more space.

Space is the word that jumps out when I try to point to the biggest difference. Cóccolo’s art seems to have more space than Buscema’s. Less restrictions from grid layouts, from the bleed around the pages, from the idea that each panel must be full. Buscema fills his panels to the brink, adding as much extra detail as he can in the background, which limits the sense of scale at play in the story. Yet, there’s something more definitive and solid about Buscema’s art. Cóccolo’s has a sense of fluffy playfulness to it that ties into Loki’s storytelling, but also detracts from the heft of it. The feeling of danger is palpable in Buscema’s art, lending a bit of that sword and sorcery fantasy approach to some of the scenes that show why he was so at home drawing Conan.

As much as I like, in theory, Alex Ross’s design of Utgard-Loki, it drags issue seven down visually. There’s something goofy about the design that makes the character hard to take seriously as a threat. Which, to be fair, can work to the advantage of the story where his actions can shock/surprise given the look of the character; here, instead of being large and impressive, like the Utgard-Loki in 272, he seems out of place. He telegraphs the trickery. The moment where Thor attempts to lift the cat, for example, and it stretches and bends before becoming the Midgard Serpent comes off as more Seussian than threatening. The new version lacks danger, I guess.

The one spot where Cóccolo uses a layout of more than six panels is the page near the end where Loki reveals the various tricks of Skrymir/Utgard-Loki and it’s done in a manner that seems a little reminiscent of Jim Starlin. Eight panels, each dedicated to one trick, any human-like figures being heads that take up the entire panel. It’s an interesting approach that has letterer Joe Sabino trying his best to place each panel’s word balloon as far off to the side as possible to maintain the effect. Despite that, it shows a bit of the limitations of this particular approach. As much as Cóccolo treats each page as its own visual unit, using wildly different layouts or repeating panels, it seems to be trying to do so with the same goal as Buscema’s art. Less experimentation to push limits, but visual interest while maintaining clarity. It’s like he’s working within the box like Buscema, only the box is now bigger.

*

There’s one last element of this retelling that I want to ramble on about that struck my interest. In The Prose Edda, Thor and Loki travel specifically into “East Giant Land.” In Thor #272, they are simply lost and find themselves in a strange land. In The Immortal Thor #6, they follow the black bridge that leads to Utgard (not aware that that is where it leads). They travel through the dark forest and cross through the unlocked gates that open on their own as they approach. This runs contrary to what we’re told about Utgard, a realm that Utgard-Loki, Toranos, and others fled to in order to not die at the hands of Atum. The gates were locked and Gaea was given the key. This happened well before Asgard’s time... So, how were Thor and Loki able to enter Utgard?

As always, there’s the simple and easy answer: because that’s how Loki’s story goes. However, Loki’s story is designed to not only relate what happened, but to create a new sort of history through his Skald Magic. It takes the story that Thor told those children back in issue 272 and repurposes it, transforms it, recasts these Utgard gods in the place of that Skrymir and Utgard (as he’s only called that in issue 272). Perhaps, the story Thor told in issue 272 was never about this Utgard-Loki at all; perhaps, it was about another so-called copy that “USE OUR NAMES AS TALISMANS,” as Utgard-Loki said in The Immortal Thor #1. Or, perhaps, it was always just a story told by humans that never actually happened to Thor that, through retelling and being written down, somehow got imprinted onto him and is repurposed by Loki... The shift from Utgard to Utgard-Loki for the name of the lord of Utgardhall/Utgard is telling, is it not? Even if it does call back to The Prose Edda.

Loki is very clear, in his telling, to cast Thor as the one that’s eager to cross the bridge and enter the gates, while Loki warns him the entire time. It becomes less like Loki’s purpose to place the Utgard gods into their shared history and more like their collision was Thor’s doing. That every step towards his doom was his own choice, not the manipulation of Loki. It also reminds us that most of The Immortal Thor is narrated by Loki. Just as this story is bent to his purpose, how too are the comics we’re reading?

Next week, we’ll dive into further retconning with The Immortal Thor #8 and a story from Thor annual #10.

The Immortal Thorsday Thoughts 06

Now, don’t get me wrong, I like a good retcon as much as the next guy...

But, let’s go back to the original Marvel Comics Thor retcon, one that launched a thousand retcons and revisions for a character whose entire existence is a revision and retelling, taking some of what was already there, changing it, adding more, and creating something new. Thor, the mythological Norse god of thunder, upon whom Jack and Stan based their idea for a new superhero and, upon whose stories, those stories would draw upon in varying degrees. It’s all a version of Loki’s warning to Thor of “FOR A TALE RETOLD MAY NOT GO AS YOU REMEMBER...” If you are knowledgeable of the Eddas and their stories, you may recognise bits and pieces of them in Thor comicbooks, particularly in the Kirby-driven “Tales of Asgard” backup stories wherein he looked to Norse mythology for inspiration – yet told still through the filter of “Marvel Comics’ Thor.” This sort of revision in retelling is a bit of what I’m talking about and, on a large enough scale, it effectively acts as a retcon by overriding and replacing the original stories within the collective minds of the masses, but it’s not the sort of retcon I’m referring to.

No, we need to go to Thor #159 for the first major retcon of “Marvel Comics’ Thor.” Coming after an issue that reprinted the first Thor story from Journey into Mystery #83 within some framing pages, issue 159 is titled “The Answer at Last!” and seeks to handle the underlying problem of the series of Donald Blake. Originally, these comicbooks were based around the idea that a weak man with an injured leg could transform into a powerful god simply by smacking his walking stick on the ground. A typical “ordinary becomes extraordinary” sort of story that Marvel’s 1960s heroes tended to be based around. However, over time, Blake’s importance to the series waned as it became obvious that a big part of Thor’s appeal were places like Asgard and space where Blake wouldn’t work as a character, but could be used to set Thor apart. After all, while it’s fun to see Thor stop a bank robbery from time to time, that’s something that any of Marvel’s heroes could do. Now, Thor fighting trolls and giants as they storm the gates of Asgard? That’s something unique to Thor.

Heading into this issue, Blake/Thor had begun to question the nature of their joint existence. How can Blake become the real Thor? And, if that’s the case, what about Thor’s life before Blake? Journeying to Asgard, he confronts Odin for the truth and the All-Father’s ensuing tale is one fairly well known to readers by this point: using a couple of examples, Odin tells Thor of a time when he was brash and arrogant, lacking in humility. Seeing that his son needed to learn humility in order to wield his mighty power with wisdom and grace, he created a human form on Earth and put Thor’s spirit into it, giving life to Donald Blake just as he was to begin medical school. In essence, Blake is Thor and has always been just Thor with all elements that are Blake merely a bit of magic worked by Odin to his goals.

This issue is a crucial moment in the history of Thor, not just for the specific revelation it provides – but for the endless after effects that would stem from it. The answer that Odin gives of creating Blake as a magical shell for Thor to live in and learn humility is the retcon that launched a thousand retcons when it comes to Thor. A sea of answers to questions no one asked. Soon, it would be Keith Kincaid was the human on which Odin patterned the idea of Blake. And, then, eventually, Blake was actually a real person. Or was he? Was Odin’s magic so strong that it basically willed into existence a being that could not be undone? What about the wisdom of this plan in the first place? And what about when Blake becomes no longer needed? So many – so many – future stories hinge upon this single issue. This “retroactive continuity” solution to the issue of Thor and Blake’s shared relationship is like a scab that no one will stop picking at. The effects of it are felt right up into The Immortal Thor #25.

A single moment that directly affects all that follows, while altering all that came before, that’s what a retcon is. That’s the fire that Al Ewing plays with in The Immortal Thor #6 as he retells Thor #272 and uses Loki as his tool to change it, retroactively altering the events of that comic. When Dario Agger refers to the comic changing in front of this eyes, it’s a literal application of what a retcon does. After issues six and seven of The Immortal Thor, how many will read Thor #272 without the influence of Ewing’s changes? How many will even go back and read the issue? At the end of this issue, it’s revealed that Dario is literally holding a copy of that issue, presumably published through the Marvel of the Marvel Universe.

Of course, if you’ve read Thor #272, you’ll know that it’s actually a story told by Thor to a group of kids to illustrate a point. Much like this retelling of the story is from the perspective of Loki and is told in a manner that reflects their memories – and their intent – that original issue is based within the memories of Thor and the intention he holds in telling to those kids. Yet, intent doesn’t matter, except as explanation. What was the intention of Jack Kirby when he conceived of Thor #159? To provide an entertaining comic? To address a problem posed to him by either his own musing, or Stan Lee, or, maybe even, a reader? Does that intent matter when you look at everything that followed that issue’s revelation about the true origin of Donald Blake? Is that intent still there when the story is retold in a movie? When it exists in the collective memories of the readers/viewers?

That’s the fire that Ewing plays with in this issue as he, through Loki, retcons Thor #272 over the course of two issues of The Immortal Thor, not with anything so big and sweeping as the ‘true’ origin of Donald Blake, but with subtle, small changes, many rooted in The Prose Edda where this story is also told. But, what questions will it raise? What scabs left to be picked?

Think of this as an introduction to next week where I will get into The Immortal Thor #7 (and issue six as well), Thor #272, and the original story contained in The Prose Edda.

The Immortal Thorsday Thoughts 05

Last time on The Immortal Thorsday Thoughts: Dig into it and there is actually very little in common between the two [versions of the Thor Corps] [...] Why reuse the name at all? Aside from the commonality of a collection of Thors (and the presence of Beta Ray Bill), the original Thor Corps and this version are practically opposites on every level. Why would Thor specifically call the group that name? And, now, the continuation...

In Thor Corps #4, the main antagonist, Demonstaff, is defeated not through the strength of two Mjolnirs, a Stormbreaker, and a Thunderstrike, but through regaining his lost humanity. Demonstaff was a scientist whose obsession nearly drove his wife away prior to an accident that transformed him into a being of dimensional energy that he tried to shape and cage to look human. The thrust of the story is him trying to destroy all alternate realities into a single version, while also taking revenge on his wife, who he thought caused the accident. He’s finally defeated when, first Dargo Ktor, the future Thor, resists every temptation Demonstaff can put in front of him in order to get his own wife back from the villain and, then, Demonstaff’s wife goes to him and gets him to both believe that she never did anything to harm him, and to finally see that this path was his own making. He ultimately regains his humanity and the two are sent to a limbo-esque dimension as punishment for his crimes (she willingly goes with him). Basically, the Thor Corps wins through love and empathy and just giving a shit about others.

And how exactly does Thor defeat Toranos in The Immortal Thor #5? He makes him feel love and empathy and give a shit about others.

Beyond its echo back into a previous version of the Thor Corps, Al Ewing isn’t exactly original in this approach, one that we’ve seen at least twice this century and, oddly, both drawn by Frank Quitely: The Authority #20 written by Mark Millar where an evil version of the Doctor is defeated when the full extent of those powers kick in, including global overwhelming empathy for all; and All-Star Superman #12 written by Grant Morrison where Lex Luthor, having stolen Superman’s powers, is defeated when the full extent of those powers kick in, including global overwhelming empathy for all. I’m sure there are other notable examples and I don’t raise them to criticise Ewing for being unoriginal, more to acknowledge their existence as well-known comics that Ewing and many readers no doubt have knowledge of.

While they clearly weigh as influences to the scene where Toranos experiences the caring that comes as part of Thor’s power, particularly the horror that comes with it as an experience so foreign and different, forever altering his very being, the idea that Thor’s plan always rested upon a feign of strength being the path to victory when it’s really love truly does echo the way that the Thor Corps mini-series plays out. A story seemingly about a group of Thors coming together to travel across time and save all of reality through hammers and muscles and lightning... yet, the solution is genuine human caring. There, it was a trick played on readers by the creators of the series; here, it’s a trick played by Thor on Toranos.

The epigraph that Ewing uses for this issue is a clever foreshadowing of what happens to Toranos, one that he doesn’t telegraph by presenting it in Latin rather than English. Coming from the Carmina Burana, it’s fairly well known in Latin when set to music, so it’s not quite so unusual to present it that way. Set next to the quotes from the Poetic Edda, though, which are always translated into English (and so are any future epigraphs from sources not originally in English), it’s a purposeful choice. In a work about language, the meaning of words, and translation, this is the one quote presented where the reader needs to work to understand it on even the most basic level. Once translated, the meaning and connection to the issue is immediately clear, but so are other epigraphs. My best guess is that it’s meant to echo the experience of Toranos holding Mjolnir and receiving the power of Thor in full. At first, it’s impossible for him to understand who Thor is and what his true power is; but, once it’s ‘translated’ for him, it’s so obvious and overwhelming in its true meaning.

The translated epigraph (taken from here):

The wheel of fortune turns;

And I descend, debased;

Another rises in turn;

Raised too high

The king sits at the top

Let him fear ruin!

It seems almost pointless to actually analyse/discuss that epigraph given how literally you can apply it to Toranos (who holds the wheel), Thor (who lowers himself by giving his power away), and the result of Toranos gaining Thor’s power only for it to cause him to flee in horror. There’s also the opposite meaning, that the wheel turns, Toranos falls, Thor rises higher and must fear his future death (as sensed/seen by Jane Foster near the end of the issue). Or, to take it further, it’s the cycle that Gaea begins to plan in the short sequence at the beginning of the issue. Endless rise and fall, endless renewal, the wheel turns.

The revelation that Gaea is the one that set the Utgardians loose is shocking, yet telegraphed at the beginning of the issue. The idea that she would attempt to create a break in the war of the Ur-gods by introducing something new, thus spawning, eventually, the various pantheons, each with their peak, each variations on one another. The caption “A wheel that turned... yet, with each turning made new,” also relates to the manner in which Toranos is bested by Thor. They are both storm gods, Thor meant to be ‘weaker’ than Toranos in raw power, yet Thor has a strength that Toranos lacks: restraint. The judicious use of his power. While set upon Earth by Gaea, there’s also a sense that Toranos would simply do this anyway. He only knows destruction under the punishment of the superstorm. When the wheel turned enough times to produce Thor, while there is overlap with the elder god, there’s enough new to be foreign.

Which returns us to the Thor Corps and the way that this new version is a reversal/variation. As I said last week, the original iteration gathered twice and, each time, took on a threat from the future that threatened all reality, backwards through time. Toranos is literally the oldest (ish) sort of threat from the past, come to threaten the future, merging the two once he gains hold of Mjolnir, as he notes, “THE ANCIENT STORM MEETS WITH THE NEW! THE PAST AND THE FUTURE ARE ONE IN ME!” However, the past is quickly swept over by the future with modern ideas and considerations basically unstoppable. The wheel turns and, if this weren’t a Marvel comic, you can picture a world where the epigraph was simpler, taken from Deadwood:

“You cannot fuck the future, sir. The future fucks you.”

*

Essential Read Number One: Avengers Inc. #3

As we progress through the course of The Immortal Thor, I will sometimes have to flag so-called ‘essential’ comics that fall outside of the 25 issues of the monthly serial. Full disclosure: none are actually essential. You can read The Immortal Thor #1-25 from beginning to end without going outside of those issues and never fail to understand what’s going on. But, sometimes, Al Ewing wrote other comics that are as close to ‘essential’ as you can get without actually, you know, being that. Many will bear the name Thor on their cover, but not this one. Avengers Inc. #3 provides the answer to the unsaid question at the end of The Immortal Thor #5: how is Skurge alive and in Dario Agger’s office with Amora? Isn’t he meant to be dead?

Well, funnily enough, the issue begins with Skurge in Valhalla... dying. His own axe, the Bloodaxe, somehow flies at him and kills him. This is a seemingly impossible sort of murder given that Valhalla is full of the honoured dead and how can someone who is already dead die again? Jane Foster, in her role as the new Valkyrie, enlists Janet Van Dyne and Victor Shade to come to Valhalla and solve the mystery. In the course of their investigation, they figure out that the only way for Skurge to have died was with his own permission as a ruse to help him escape Valhalla and return to a mortal life. And only someone with an intricate knowledge of Valhalla and the rules governing it, including ways to leave it, could have assisted. Namely, another resident, Odin. He reveals that Skurge had had visions of Thor’s death and sought to return to Earth to take that death again, even if it meant never returning to Valhalla.

All of this is eventually revealed in the pages of The Immortal Thor, so this issue acts as a bit of a revelation sooner than you’d get otherwise. As such, I do wonder if it’s best read around this point in The Immortal Thor or left until after issue 21 when the story is retold (minus the mystery elements). There’s something to be said about leaving the mystery in the pages of the main story where Skurge’s references to Thor’s death and trying to take it on behalf of the Thunder God as he did the first time he died, and it’s not made completely explicit what happened until the fight outside the gates of Utgard. It adds a bit of edge to Skurge’s actions with Amora and Dario Agger, I find.

Yet, I can’t pretend that I didn’t read this issue around this point of The Immortal Thor as it came out. It came out October 23, 2023, while issue four of The Immortal Thor came out November 15. So, it pre-dated this two-issue Thor Corps story, making it known fairly early in the run. That means Skurge showing up at the end of issue five isn’t a complete shock for those of us who read Avengers Inc. #3. We knew Skurge was back and would run into Thor at some point. I wouldn’t say that that diminished the reading experience any... and yet...

This is the sort of debate I have with myself at times when constructing reading orders where the spine is set and you need to decide where best to place ancillary issues. While the original release date meant that you could read it at X, does it maybe work better narratively at Y? When I did my Brian Michael Bendis-focused reading order for Secret Invasion, I very much ignored release order in favour of what I thought was the optimal reading experience. In the case of Avengers Inc. #3, I remain somewhat undecided. It’s clearly a direct tie-in to The Immortal Thor with the way it gives even Leonard Kirk the chance to draw the flash-forward image of Thor bloody with Mjolnir and Tormod in hand, ready to fight and die. It’s hard to ignore it.

Its placement here, after issue five, seems as good as any place. It doesn’t disrupt the flow from issue-to-issue, which it would a bit more following issue three, which ends on the tease of Thor going to meet Storm. And it follows up on that final page reveal where Skurge is there with Amora. The idea that Skurge returns from the dead due to a prophetic dream, in an effort to stave off that future, also ties in nicely with some of the ideas discussed above about the confrontation between Thor and Toranos. Skurge is rushing from the past toward a future, doing his best to change it, to overcome it... but, as we’ll see, it’s not possible. For the second time:

“You cannot fuck the future, sir. The future fucks you.”

Next week, The Immortal Thor #6, which shows how you can change the past, if you want, along with Thor #159, the first big retcon in Thor’s history.

The Immortal Thorsday Thoughts 04

Ah, the Thor Corps. I was actually a little surprised when they brought back that name in The Immortal Thor #4 after it was passed over during Secret Wars when the Thor­-replacement series was titled Thors instead, despite featuring a group called the Thor Corps and the habit of reusing old titles for those series. I figured that there had to be a reason why they wouldn’t call the comic “Thor Corps” and use the original mini’s logo like the rest of the Battleworld minis during that event. It’s always baffled me and the inclusion of the name again here in The Immortal Thor only adds to that bafflement. Although, they don’t use the original logo in this issue when Thor says the name and it gets a logo-esque treatment (nor on the cover of issue 5). A little respect and homage paid, not in full, alas.

Prior to The Immortal Thor #4 and Thors, the Thor Corps originally appeared in Thor #438-441 and Thor Corps #1-4 by Tom DeFalco, Ron Frenz, and Patrick Olliffe (DeFalco and Frenz co-plotted the issues of Thor with DeFalco scripting and Frenz pencilling, while DeFalco wrote and Olliffe pencilled the followup mini-series). The first story where the group came together was actually titled “The Thor War” and had Zarrko the Tomorrow Man pit then-current Thor Eric Masterson again possible-future Thor Dargo Ktor to fuel his efforts to conquer time. The battle of two wielders of Mjolnir summoned Beta Ray Bill and, soon, the trio were teaming up to stop Zarrko, which meant fighting through an army of Thor enemies plucked from various points in time until they finally managed to win. Thor Corps reunited the trio, though Eric Masterson had given up Mjolnir for Thunderstrike by that point, trying to stop all of time and realities from being destroyed by Dargo’s enemy Demonstaff. At the end of the third issue, they use the collective power of Mjolnir, Thunderstrike, and Stormbreaker to summon Thor to aid them in their fight. Basically, the idea is exactly what it sounds like: multiple Thors (of sorts) teaming up.

What I’ve found interesting, in retrospect, is that Thor Odinson was barely involved. The first iteration of the group was during the period where the Odinson was thought dead and Eric Masterson wielded Mjolnir (and was still somewhat of a novice at it). The core trio of the Thor Corps was Masterson, Dargo Ktor, and Beta Ray Bill, who, as the most experienced hammer-user and warrior, settled into the role of leader (and peacemaker for the other two). While Masterson took the spotlight as far as perspective in the initial series since he was the star of Thor, the group was a bit of a Bill showcase. In both iterations, he was the calm, collected veteran Thor who could keep his head and come up with a plan of attack. In the first story, he became an example for Eric to follow as he learned how to be Thor – and, in the second, he was already established with the other two as the clear best Thor of the trio. One of my favourite moments is when Bill first arrives and Masterson is immediately awed, thinking “HE’S SO ALIEN--! AND YET, NOBILITY CLINGS TO HIM LIKE A SECOND SKIN! / HE REMINDS ME SO MUCH OF THE ORIGINAL THOR!”

In the final issue of Thor Corps, the Odinson is seen as a bit of a last resort for the group, calling upon the ‘real’ Thor. Yet, despite his central role that places him above the others to an extent, much of his purpose is to give the other three moral support and inspiration. He doesn’t show up and take the attitude that they should fall in line behind him. He talks them up, treats them as equal, and takes the attitude that, if they’re all worthy, then they’re all worthy. There’s no worthier. There’s a trust among those that can lift Mjolnir. It’s that idea that carries over the most to The Immortal Thor #4 where Thor gathers together various trusted allies who’ve all held Mjolnir at some point (Beta Ray Bill, Storm, Jane Foster, and Loki) to stand against Toranos in a plan that requires absolute faith in each of their abilities to work together. The composition of the group is quite different from the original version(s) where Thor Odinson the All-Father is clearly the Thor in charge and he’s assisted by a group of veterans.

Save one.

The recruitment of Storm is the focus of the issue and her position in the group stands out, as she was not an experienced wielder of Mjolnir. (You can also question Loki’s time holding the hammer, but, as an Asgardian, he kind of gets a pass. Actually, as a side note to this side note: Loki is the final Thor villain that Zarrko plucks from the timestream and much of his fight with the Thor Corps has him absolutely bodying Eric and Dargo. It’s a rare instance where Loki’s enhanced Asgardian strength and warrior upbringing are given the spotlight to see him out-fight opponents, not just trick them or rely on magic.) Yet, her experience as an X-Man and her mutant powers give her a certain prestige. The confrontation between her and Thor as Thor interrupts her involvement in the war on Arakko is one that establishes her, at first, as Thor’s equal or better. Al Ewing relies on some very specific wording to seemingly give Storm the (temporary) edge by emphasising that she controls the weather while Thor only commands the storm (ironic given her name). It’s a clever bit of parsing of their particular skills, following up on a similar instance in the first issue where Thor commands a blizzard (a snow storm). So, while she’s a novice Thor, she brings her own formidable power to the table. In fact, every member of this iteration has their own abilities/powers outside of those bestowed by Mjolnir. It’s a bit of Thor Corps Supergroup version, you could argue.

The makeup of the group, both in members and conception isn’t the only change. Unlike the threats of Zarrko or Demonstaff, Toranos is not from the future. While he poses a threat to the future of the world or, as the holder of the Wheel, represents the idea of a future threat coming to pass, he’s more a relic of the past. As we’ll see in the next issue, the idea isn’t to defeat him either, but to change an old idea into something newer. The triumph of this Thor Corps is a triumph of the future over the past, a reversal of the previous version.

Dig into it and there is actually very little in common between the two (another change: the original all had their respective hammers, while this one shares a single Mjolnir). Why reuse the name at all? Aside from the commonality of a collection of Thors (and the presence of Beta Ray Bill), the original Thor Corps and this version are practically opposites on every level. Why would Thor specifically call the group that name?

That answer comes next week as I discuss The Immortal Thor #5 and the first comic that I’d call an essential read outside of the 25 issues of The Immortal Thor, Avengers Inc. #3.

The Immortal Thorsday Thoughts 03

The epigraph for The Immortal Thor #3 still comes from The Elder Eddas per the citation, which, for me, is The Poetic Edda, specifically, the “Sayings of the High One,” which Al Ewing sometimes lists as “Odin’s Rune-Song” Fittingly, this section of the Edda is a mixture of elements, including general wisdom/advice, as described by Carolyne Larrington: “Human social wisdom, teasing allusion to runic mysteries, spells, and charms combine in this poem to give a conspectus of different types of wisdom.” Where else would you look for a nice, tidy quote to kick off a story about Thor seeking the wisdom needed to meet Loki’s trial?

While not always the case, I think the translation that Ewing uses for the epigraph is more fitting than the one in my translation. Specifically, Ewing’s quote ends with “But he knows not what to answer, if to the test he is put,” while the Larrington translation ends with “he doesn’t know what he can say in return if people ask him questions.” The latter makes more sense within the context of the poem where a big chunk of the first half or so are stanzas that act as little pearls of advice for living life. In both quotes, it’s about a foolish man thinking himself wise until actually pressed, at which point he reveals his foolishness. Ewing’s quote makes more sense within the context of the comic where it’s not so much a social situation where a foolish speaker is finally made to confront his true self, it’s a larger trial, one where having the wisdom to escape is the difference between life and death.

Beyond the obvious aptness of the epigraph, Ewing selecting a bit of an advice column basically but with dressed up language connects to the purpose of these stories, at their root. They may have involved giants and trolls and life and death, but they were meant, in part, to teach lessons about life, and how to live it. “Sayings of the High One” transitions between stanzas of social advice and magical runes with ease, all meant to be part of the wisdom of Odin. While he’s the king of the Aesir, ruler of Asgard, Odin One-Eye who gave it as sacrifice to gain knowledge beyond knowledge, wisdom beyond wisdom, he’s also the face you give a collection of social instruction because he’s All-Wise and would know things like this just as easily as he knows rune magic. The mundane and the fantastic rubbing up against one another, feeding into one another... the world outside your window, albeit with a muscular man flying with a hammer...

The mixture of ‘high’ and ‘low’ shows up in the issue, like the scene where Thor, having crafted Tormod, the ax-head meant to represent his wisdom, tests the sharpness of the blade by shaving the beard he grew during the All-Sleep. While the wisdom usually represented by a weapon like Tormod is the brutal kind, if it is meant to be a practical sort of wisdom, it needs to solve any problem that requires a sharp point, like a face full of whiskers. Even the solution to Loki’s trial comes at the other end of a walking stick... the riddle solved via a tool to assist in a journey... that takes Thor back to the moment he left the moon. At its core, this issue is about direct, practical knowledge – lateral thinking.

The solution to Loki’s trial isn’t particularly clever or hard to figure out. When Thor crafts the walking stick with the rune at its head, it almost seems foolish that the entire thing rested upon an answer so basic. But, that’s how these stories go. Big life and death stakes resolved with a ‘clever’ twist that any of us could have thought of. Because these gods are just like us. They may learn these lessons in fantastical realms like Skornheim, Skartheim, Utgard, or the unnamed world of this issue but the lessons are, at their core, the same.

This wasn’t the first (or second...) time that Thor had found himself in a far off realm, put to the trial to prove himself. Beyond it being a common trope in myths and stories for the hero to venture into the wilderness to prove himself against nature or another or simply himself, it’s an idea that’s popped up from time to time in Thor comics. The one that immediately sprang to mind was Thor #338 where Thor and Beta Ray Bill are sent to Skartheim to battle to the death to determine who is worthy of Mjolnir. A more fitting comparison for The Immortal Thor #3, though, is Journey into Mystery #116 by Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Vince Colletta. “The Trial of the Gods!” has Odin sending Thor and Loki to Skornheim, a place where gods can die, in a race through a treacherous wilderness where the winner will be proven to be honest and right before the All-Father. It’s a patently stupid way to determine which of the two is being honest, particularly at this point in Thor history where, obviously, Loki was lying. He was always lying! But, that was the odd frustrating experience of Odin during this time, meant to mimic the unfair ‘fairness’ of a typical dad who never seemed to notice that one sibling always started it.

Where the Thor/Beta Ray Bill trial was one of straight combat, the Thor/Loki one is a race through a deadly obstacle course where Loki smuggles in Norn Stones to cheat his way along. Despite that, Thor always keeps up through his strength, agility, and smarts. The practical lateral thinking is on display best when both encounter these hard, spiky crystalline trees. Loki uses the Norn Stones to make himself intangible and walk through the forest unscathed. Thor, with no way to safely sneak through, puts his helmet on his hand, wraps his cape tightly around it and up his arm, and runs, smashing his way through, using the helmet fastened tight to his arm. It may not be exceedingly clever, but it’s the closest we get to solving a riddle in that particular trial.

There’s a bit of mirroring between the two stories in Thor’s lashing out in anger. In The Immortal Thor #3, it happens at the beginning; in Journey into Mystery #116, it happens at the end as Thor bursts through a host of carnivorous plants. In both cases, it’s frustration over the actions of Loki and their trickster ways that could leave Thor dead on some far away world. (Fittingly, that early story also has a subplot about Skurge and Enchantress causing mischief on Earth... though, we haven’t gotten there quite yet.)

In a broad sense, this sort of story recurs throughout The Immortal Thor, playing off the idea of the Ten Realms, and far away lands, and these self-contained story boxes. Like panels on pages in issues... Or stanzas in poems in Eddas.

Next week, The Immortal Thor #4 and a brief history of the Thor Corps (Thor #438-441, Thor Corps #1-4, and maybe even a word or two on Thors #1-4).

The Immortal Thorsday Thoughts 02

It’s the second issue of the new Thor series. Thor faces a threat more powerful than he alone can handle. He tries the storm, it doesn’t work. He tries his physical strength, it doesn’t work. He tries the might of Mjolnir, it doesn’t work. In desperation, he gathers the last of his strength to create a dimensional portal to send away this enemy too powerful to defeat. The best that the Thunder God can hope for is a draw, of sorts. Send the threat away and hope that, if/when it returns, he’s able to muster the strength to defeat it.

In 1999’s Thor #2 by Dan Jurgens and John Romita, Jr., the threat was the Destroyer powered by the spirit of a US Army Colonel. In 2023’s Immortal Thor #2 by Al Ewing and Martín Cóccolo, the threat is Toranos, the Utgard-Thor, the god of the superstorm, the holder of the wheel of fate. Cycles repeat.

The 1999 Thor relaunch by Jurgens and Romita came after a period of no Thor comics. The previous series had ended during the Onslaught event that took the non-mutant/non-Spider-Man heroes off the board for the Heroes Reborn line by Jim Lee and Rob Liefeld where Thor was simply a character in Avengers with no solo series. Thor became Journey into Mystery and followed the plight of Asgardians as mortals on Earth while Asgard sat in ruins. When Heroes Reborn became Heroes Return, the four title of that line were relaunched, but Thor remained without his own series. This was partly to not launch more than four new titles at the same time, partly to build up anticipation and demand. To make people want a Thor series more. It would follow around five or six months later (an eternity in mainstream superhero comicbooks) to make its own big splash free of any other launches.

The first year of the title revolved around two plots: Thor trying to balance his life with that of a human, Jake Olsen, whose soul he’d been bonded with to return both from the dead; and the destruction of Asgard and missing Asgardians. I won’t go too in-depth into the former, except to say that it never really worked. It seemed to be an attempt to recreate Donald Blake, while also doing an inversion of Eric Masterson’s time as Thor where, instead of Masterson retaining his mind when he transformed into Thor, Thor retains his mind when he transforms into Olsen. It’s an idea with some legs, but never really cohered. It made for a lot of Parker-esque mishaps that didn’t go anywhere.

The second main plot of that first year wasn’t just about the destruction of Asgard and its missing citizenry, it was about the threat of the Dark Gods. A forgotten threat from Asgard’s past, the Dark Gods are presented as a pantheon that’s the opposite of Asgard’s shining golden city and its supposed code of honour. A destructive, greedy, evil pantheon that nearly defeated Asgard in war until Thor’s childhood determination inspired Odin to rally for victory. The trauma of their threat was so great that Odin erased them from all memory save his own, and this threat was now returned. They had Odin in chains and were using the other Asgardians as slaves after they transformed Asgard into their new home. There isn’t much more to the Dark Gods, no real depth or underlying motives beyond being evil, the opposite of Asgard. They’re eventually defeated via Thor’s determination and planning, along with the always lamentable Deux Ex Odin finish where the All-Father regains his power and uses it to finish off the matriarch of the Dark Gods and restore Asgard to its former glory.

The Dark Gods were far from the first rival pantheon to challenge Asgard in one way or another – and far from the last. Up until the Dark Gods, most rival pantheons had a basis in other human mythologies, like the Olympians or the Egyptian and Celtic gods. In the first arc of the Matt Fraction and Pasqual Ferry run, they created a threat somewhat like the Dark Gods, a rival evil conquering pantheon that had no basis in existing mythology and was similarly dismissed. It’s an appealing idea, these variations on our heroes, challenging them in ways that only other gods truly can. And, as is always the case in superhero comics, the threat is best when greater in power than that of the hero. Thor only defeats the Dark Gods by allying himself with the exiled Destroyer, using his ability to transform between himself and Jake Olsen’s forms to rescue some Asgardians, and even use another threat he faced earlier in the run as a tool to free Odin. He has to go beyond himself and his capabilities, just as we will eventually see him do when he travels to Utgard, armed with two new mystical weapons and Skurge the Executioner at his side. Because the threat of Utgard is presented as incredibly large, well beyond Thor’s abilities, even as the king of Asgard.

It’s all variations on the same ideas. Al Ewing isn’t shy about that in The Immortal Thor, purposefully referencing old stories and characters, explicitly setting up the Utgardians as the Ur-gods with everything that follows flowing from them. The best trick Ewing pulls is treating the Utgardians like they have a strong basis in Norse mythology when, really, they’re just as much his and his collaborators’ creations as the Dark Gods were of Jurgens and Romita. From the epigraphs that pull from the Eddas, to the use of names like “Utgard-Thor” (in opposition to “Asa-Thor,” which does come from the Eddas), there’s a sense that Ewing is pulling on some mostly ignored elements of the mythological roots of Thor. He isn’t, though he does a pretty good job at covering his tracks by merging elements from mythology and Marvel history and past Thor comics and simple allusions. For Utgard, Ewing mashes it all up to create these older gods that can play the role of the Dark Gods. A new threat to Asgard and Midgard and the rest of the universe, forces of power and destruction that will require Thor to gather new resources and allies to stand a chance. Cycles repeat.

*

The Immortal Thor #2 opens with a three page representation of Odin sacrificing his eye before Yggdrasil, the World-Tree, to gain knowledge. It’s an odd scene for the issue, which is not one that deals with sacrifice to gain knowledge. To delay/deter Toranos, Thor doesn’t sacrifice anything. He gains no knowledge save that he is not up to the task of actually defeating Toranos. Nor does it specifically relate to the final scene of the issue where Thor, on the moon, is confronted by Loki who discusses trust and reveals the new form of Loki the Enemy. It’s a scene that stands apart from the issue, although, I have to admit, that Loki’s narration ties it into the idea that Thor letting loose with the Thor-Power against Toranos, requiring the All-Sleep as a price paid for that power, but that’s a tenuous link. One that justifies the inclusion in this issue, but distracts from the larger picture.

It’s not uncommon for issue of The Immortal Thor to begin with short scenes that tie into the larger story more than the issue they begin. Little bits of thematic foreshadowing that Ewing drops in. That this is the first of such is meaningful as it points to the most obvious idea that The Immortal Thor revolves around: the idea of sacrifice for knowledge, power, freedom... The words of Yggdrasil could form the epigraph for the entirety of The Immortal Thor, to be honest:

YES

THIS IS THE LESSON

THIS IS THE PARABLE

THE STORY ALWAYS CHANGES

THE MEANING ALWAYS REMAINS

THERE IS ALWAYS A SACRIFICE

ALWAYS A COST, BOR-SON

FOR THE WINTER TO END

FOR SPRING TO COME AGAIN

YOU HAVE MADE YOUR SACRIFICE, BOR-SON

AND IN TIME TO COME

YOUR CHILDREN WILL MAKE THEIRS

These are words that will be repeated throughout The Immortal Thor in different combinations by different characters. And, as Ewing will reminds us, Thor has already made his sacrifice beyond Odin, back in the “Ragnarok” story where he sacrificed both eyes for the knowledge and power to end the cycles of Ragnarok, freeing Asgard from the endless birth and death pattern where they always stormed towards the same story. Yet, underlying all of this is a simple fact: that didn’t end the rebirth of Asgard. The story is different. But, here we are, with echoes of the past, repetitions and variations, and is the story actually different in the ways that count? Do the sacrifices ever truly end? Winter always comes anew, after all...

*

In rereading the first year of the Dan Jurgens/John Romita, Jr. run, I’ve been thinking about the choice of line artists for these books. The Immortal Thor is headed up by Martín Cóccolo, an artist that I’ll admit I wasn’t too familiar with prior to this comic. He’s got a clean line and actually, together with colourist Matthew Wilson, manages to pull off the visual design of Toranos really well, capturing the look and feel of Alex Ross’s design/art. Ross is the other element of The Immortal Thor’s art by providing the main covers (of which I’ve got most throughout the run, but did have the odd variant given to me as my copy, alas) and some of the character designs, as shown in the back of this issue. He did the redesign of Thor along with designs for Utgard-Loki and Toranos, and I’ve been thinking about that within the context of a new volume of Thor and excitement over the visual element of the book.

As much as I’m a writer-focused critic and struggle with the visual side of things far too often, the artist on a book can be more appealing than the writer. When the Jurgens/Romita Thor comic was announced, I was far more excited about Romita’s art than Jurgens’s writing. I was fond of Jurgens, going back to his time writing and drawing Superman (I made an effort to get as many of those issues during “The Reign of the Supermen” period), but John Romita, Jr.’s Thor was epic. There was a cover of Wizard magazine that he did that I had a poster of on my wall and even used as the basis for this math assignment where you needed to take a drawing, trace it onto a grid, and plot its coordinates so, theoretically, someone could use your list of coordinates to draw it themselves. I was obsessed with the idea of Romita drawing this title, going back to his work on the Amalgam comic Thorion of the New Asgods #1 where he drew the mashup between the Asgardians and the New Gods. He was so good at having one foot in the aesthetic world of Kirby, even if I didn’t fully get that then, and giving a Thor that look like he was partly made out of rock, a being older than we can imagine, but solid and powerful. At that point, Romita was a solid veteran, someone proven, pretty much entering the period where he kind of became the Marvel artist where his presence on a book let you know that it was important in some way.

And meaning no disrespect to Cóccolo... he isn’t that. I really enjoy his work on The Immortal Thor and wish he’d been able to stick around longer. As I said, I look at the work he and Wilson did on Toranos and it’s stunning. But, going into this book, there’s nothing like the ‘Romita hype’ of 1999. I’ve been thinking if there is an artist that can produce that sort of excitement on a book like Thor at this point. Maybe it’s me, a quarter century on, and unable to recapture that excitement. I don’t know... 

But, if you do go back and read the first year (or two!) of the Jurgens/Romita Thor run, the time without a Thor comic definitely helped hype the book up, but the inclusion of Romita as artist did so much heavy lifting. 

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Next week, I’ll be discussing The Immortal Thor #3 along with Journey into Mystery #116.

The Immortal Thorsday Thoughts 01

I used to write about comicbooks online. I guess I still do as evidenced by you reading these words about comicbooks on a website. What I meant was: I used to write about comicbooks online where lots of people would see and, hopefully, read what I wrote. While it’s turned into more of a generic popculture site full of listicles and random dives into history and trivia care of my friend Brian Cronin, CBR (Comic Book Resources) was once the most well known and trafficked site in comics. And I wrote for it in a few ways. Firstly, I had free reign to do as I wish at a sub-blog called Comics Should be Good (thanks to the aforementioned Mr. Cronin) where my main two ongoing pieces of writing were something called the Reread Reviews where I reread stuff and wrote about it, and a weekly bit of nonsense called Random Thoughts! where I (as you can guess), wrote down my literal random thoughts any given week. After a year or so, I got on as a reviewer for the main site and spent the next few years writing four to seven reviews every week of new comics. Most folks stopped at the star ratings posted at the time, but, sometimes, they’d actually read what I wrote and, even rarer, they’d let me know what they thought about my review. This was mostly well intentioned feedback, to be honest. People genuinely wanting to engage with what I wrote to agree, disagree, or just tell me I’m dumb. The comment I’d sometimes get there and in other places that always bugged me was when someone would respond with “That’s just your opinion.”

Yes. And?

It was all my opinion. Virtually everything I’ve ever written about comicbooks online has been exclusively and entirely my opinion at that moment. Maybe with a few facts sprinkled in (like who wrote or drew the comic, or the literal plot), but all in service of my opinion. Because that’s what this is about: my opinion, my interpretation, my translation. You come here to get my version of the work, how it hit me, what I think of it, how I view it, my insights, my thoughts... my opinion. As I’ve prepared for this series of writings, where I’ll be looking at The Immortal Thor issue by issue every Thursday, I’ve been thinking a lot about the idea of translation and interpretation. The Immortal Thor is a comicbook very much concerned with that idea. About point of view and meaning and who tells the story and why.

Let the show begin.

The Immortal Thor #1 opens, as all issues of the series do, with an epigraph. Most of them are attributed to coming from some part of The Elder Eddas of Saemund Sigfusson or, as my copy is titled, The Poetic Edda (Oxford World’s Classics edition translated by Carolyne Larrington). This is in contrast/complement to The Young Eddas by Snorri Sturluson or, as my copy is titled, The Prose Edda (Penguin Classics edition translated by Jesse Byock). These two volumes make up the source for a large amount of the Norse mythology by which we get Thor, Loki, Odin, and Asgard. The Marvel Comics version is inspired by these stories, sometimes quite literally and mostly only through the use of broad ideas. It’s an interpretation, a translation...

The epigraph to The Immortal Thor #1 comes from The Elder Eddas:

He is sated with the last breath of dying men.

The god’s seat he with red gore defiles.

Swart is the sunshine then for summers after.

All weather turns to storm.

Understand ye yet, or what?

The text here is meant to relate to the coming of Toranos, the elder storm god from Utgard; the Utgard-Thor, as it were. He kills, he brings destruction to New York, which is on Earth, one of Thor’s homes. He blots out the sun, he brings the storm, and Thor sees that there are larger gods. That’s how it seems to relate to this issue. Pretty easy to see (Al Ewing starts us off with kid gloves) and understand. But, this is, of course, not what this text actually means. It may surprise you to learn, but The Elder Eddas do not tell the story of the Utgard gods coming to destroy the Aesir and the Earth. It may surprise you to learn that there are no ‘Utgard gods’ in so many words. It may surprise you to learn that my copy of The Poetic Edda has a slightly different text:

It gluts itself on doomed men’s lives,

reddens the gods’ dwellings with crimson blood;

sunshine becomes black all the next summers,

weather all vicious––do you want to know more: and what?

Same basic idea, yet different. ‘Gluts’ is not ‘sated;’ ‘doomed’ is not ‘dying;’ ‘reddens’ is not ‘defiled;’ ‘crimson blood’ is not ‘gore;’ ‘black’ is not ‘swart;’ ‘vicious’ is not ‘storm;’ ‘do you want to know more; and what?’ is not ‘understand ye yet, or what?’ It’s all translation, interpretation, read and thought upon, and put to paper with a specific intention and audience. Is one better? More accurate? Do you know which?

It’s from the first text in The Poetic Edda, titled “The Seeress’s Prophecy” in my edition and is the words of a seeress telling Odin the history of the world before the gods and, then, into the future of Ragnarok and beyond. It’s a quick summation of the broad strokes of the entire story of the Aesir and the world. Other stories in The Poetic Edda fill in details and the same into The Prose Edda. You can ignore most of the differences as, while they have different meanings (synonyms are, of course, no synonymous), the general idea is the same throughout the passage. What caught my attention was the difference in the final line, as Ewing repeats it at various times during the run of The Immortal Thor and, in fact, before the run, uses a variation.

The story of The Immortal Thor actually begins in Thor annual #1 from the previous volume of the comicbook with a five-page prologue done with the full team of Al Ewing, Martín Cóccolo, Matthew Wilson, and Joe Sabino that begins with the line that’s also the title of the story: “Would you know more?” That’s very close to the final line of the translation of the epigraph from The Poetic Edda “do you want to know more: and what?” and a bit of a jump from Ewing’s Elder Eddas line “Understand ye yet, or what?” Put them next to one another and it’s easy to see the difference...

“Would you know more?” is a question posed somewhat gently. It’s an invitation almost, teasing you into stepping deeper to gain knowledge. It places the emphasis on the action and the taking of said action to learn more, even if it’s turning a page – or buying the first issue of a new series.

“Understand ye yet, or what?” is a question posed somewhat condescendingly. There’s a sneer behind it. Maybe a playful one. Maybe not. It’s a challenge for you to grasp the meaning of what you’ve already learned. It’s inward-looking, contemplative. It suggests a riddle to be solved.

“Do you want to know more: and what?” is a question posed somewhat directly. It fits with what we know of “The Seeress’s Prophecy” where the seeress is telling Odin of what she sees with his questions directing her focus. It’s not just about gaining more knowledge, it’s about specific knowledge. Ask and you shall receive.

The second is where Ewing chooses to rest his rhetoric, even if he uses the first to first entice us all. I don’t know what edition(s) of the Edda he’s drawing upon. I don’t know if he knew the third version was available, the one that walks the middle ground between the two. You may want to get yourself a copy of “The Seeress’s Prophecy” as it is the broader structure of these 25 issues. Thor learning about and dealing with what came before the beginning of the Aesir and the world as he knows it... forever moving closer and closer to his personal Ragnarok... and, then, the world after Ragnarok...

“The stories have their patterns. The Gods have their Ragnarok. Even Thor has a Black Winter hanging over him.”

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I would direct you at this time to my first piece on this issue, made available on this very blog.

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As I didn’t discuss what’s up with Loki two years ago, let’s begin there. I’m not always a good or careful reader. I miss a lot. It’s one of the reasons why I write – to figure things out. It’s, as I said, a form of translation. Often, when I’m writing about something, I’m thinking it through in real time, figuring it out, letting all of this information that sits in the back of my head, just below the surface, to come out in a, hopefully, organised manner. Which is to say, I’m not convinced that I knew Loki is the narrator right away. Embarrassing, eh?

What puts the three quotes I discussed into a slightly different light. Loki would phrase that line in a manner that is teasing and somewhat condescending. It’s a game, a trick. A story with a purpose. As we’ll see in future issues, Loki the Skald is also not above altering the story to suit their needs, some of which seems to be laid out in this issue. Much of what proceeds from this issue is Loki pushing and prodding Thor in various directions, seemingly for his own good, even if in the moment it does not appear that way. Rereading this issue in light of the entire 25-issue series and knowing where things go, particularly with the Bifrost, the scene where Loki remakes the Rainbow Bridge seemed of heightened importance. One bit of Loki’s narration caught my eye:

“What if were free? / All of us. Gods and mortals. Me and you. / What couldn’t we do, on the day all our cages open? What would that look like? Tell me, if you can. / What does the bridge to anywhere look like?”

Once upon a time, Loki sought freedom. Freedom from himself, from his past, from the story that hung around him like an albatross. And he did the most diabolical things to break free from that story, moving past the God of Lies, becoming the God of Stories, free to write their future as they see fit. They first show up in this issue by breaking free from the previously defined role of ruler of Jotunheim, declaring themselves as the official Skald of Asgard, and offering to repair the Bifrost that Thor broke while Hulked out during the previous volume of the title. A new story to tell... And this comes after Thor seemingly changes his story in the annual short by returning to his former garb and restoring Mjolnir to its previous state. These are normal events in superhero comicbooks when a new creative team relaunches a title, so they don’t seem out of place and, yet...

In retrospect, it’s apparent that Loki not only sets the story into motion, they explain a possible motive. Having obtained their freedom, do they now see the bars that cage everyone else? Do they look upon the trapped with pity and seek to free them all? Thor broke the cycle of Ragnarok once, but, lurking out there are older gods whose own cycles still cage the Ten Realms. So, why not turn the wheel a little and push Thor in the direction of breaking another cycle?

At the end of the issue, Utgard-Loki mentions the various characters that use the Utgard-gods as talismans and act as ‘understudies’ to these ancient beings, positing them as greater, more powerful, more true versions of the ideas that came after them. But, let me ask you: in our current world, what versions of Thor and Loki hold the most sway? Not the versions that appear in the Eddas, not even the versions that appear in the comics. No, that honour belongs to the versions portrayed by Chris Hemsworth and Tom Hiddleston on screen. What came first is not necessarily what matters most, not with stories. You can see the influences the works of Kirby and Simonson had on Thor: Ragnarok if you know what you’re looking for, but there’s no doubt that the majority of people just saw the movie and nothing more.

Utgard-Loki thinks being first means being more powerful. This is a story about influence and translation and that what comes later can be a more potent story. And that’s what matters most here: the story. The irony is twofold in that Utgard-Loki cannot see that they are a part of the story and bound by its rules... For, as much as Loki wishes to free everyone, they first cage them in the story. Bound by words and pictures, panels and word balloons... In becoming the narrator, the Skald, Loki becomes the new jailer. It is them who rebuilds the bridge to Utgard, them who turns the wheel...

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Ever week, I’ll discuss the next issue of The Immortal Thor along with another work of some kind (which was the short story in Thor annual #1 here), maybe also dive into the epigraphs a bit. We’ve got 25 weeks of this ahead of us. Next week, in addition to The Immortal Thor #2, I’ll be discussing, in some manner, Thor (1998) #1-12. That’s the first year of the Dan Jurgens/John Romita, Jr. run.