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.

From God to Superhero: Alan Zelenetz’s Asgardian Work (Thor #329-336, annual #10-11, Bizarre Adventures #32, Marvel Fanfare #13, 34-37, and The Raven Banner: A Tale of Asgard)

Note: There are three additional comics that I had hoped to include in my discussion of Alan Zelenetz’s Asgardian work: Thor annual #12-13 and What If? #39, which is about Thor meeting Conan. They were ordered and are currently in Chicago, unfortunately. I wish I had them to present a complete picture of Zelenetz’s body of work. I sure hope that they fit into the assertions I make below. If they don’t... ah well.

“Alan Zelenetz? Never heard of him!” This reaction isn’t unexpected nor is it unusual. As I was preparing for the final eight Thorsday Thoughts, I looked through what was available and had settled on Doug Moench’s run on the title as a topic, noticing that it spanned two Epic Collections (The Lost Kingdom and Runequest), but not in their entirety. The early part of the former had work by Mark Gruenwald and Ralph Macchio, while the end part of the latter was written by Alan Zelenetz. I knew the first two writers, not the third. Looking into it, Zelenetz’s time as a comics writer was relatively brief and only featured a small body of work. Working almost exclusively for Marvel, he mostly wrote Thor, Moon Knight, Conan the Barbarian, and Kull the Conqueror comics along with co-creating/writing Alien Legion for Epic Comics. His time in comics spanned the early to mid/late ‘80s and, then, he was gone, leaving behind, what, four dozen or so comics? Judging from what I could find online, he focused more on his career as a rabbi and educator, dipping into movie producing, and acting as a consultant on the movie Pi. I didn’t see what drew him to comics nor what drove him away. I basically went into his work knowing that he had a brief career and that’s it.

His Thor/Asgardian work reminds me, conceptually, of Robert Rodi’s small body of work on the character/world. While Rodi never wrote the monthly title proper like Zelenetz did, he also produced a small but solid body of work with a few standout pieces like the Loki and For Asgard minis. Both are a bit of ‘hidden gem’ writers in the history of Thor comics. I started off thinking of Zelenetz as the ‘guy before Simonson’ since that was his place as writer of the monthly title. Except, his work continued past that point. He did two more annuals that came out during Simonson’s run along with the comics with Charles Vess that he’s probably most fondly remembered for: The Raven Banner graphic novel and the five issues of Marvel Fanfare focusing on the Warriors Three. I imagine most people who hunt down those issues do so for Vess’s art and the writer is treated as a bit of an afterthought, which is understandable. Vess’s stature has grown over the years and decades, while Zelenetz disappeared. Forgive me if I reverse the roles a bit too much, placing a larger emphasis on Zelenetz’s contributions while minimising Vess...

Unsurprisingly, Zelenetz’s writing on the monthly Thor title and his work outside of those eight issues divide easily into two separate camps, for the most part. Picking up where Moench left off and keeping things warm for Simonson, Zelenetz’s writing on the monthly title is mostly continuity service. He deals with the after effects of Tyr’s attempted coup, chips in on Marvel’s line wide use of Dracula, and, then, with the lingering mystery of what happened to Jane Foster. In the middle, he scripts one of the most interesting Thor stories over artist Bob Hall’s plot. Ironically, those two issues that he’s credited as only a scripter seem much more like the rest of his Thor/Asgard work than the monthly issues he’s fully credited as writer on. The continuity-service issues, as I call them, are good. They’re solid. The story of a giant left behind on Earth is a fun one, while the Dracula issues have their moments even if the threat is mostly resolved through a hand wave.

The “Runequest” story that the Epic Collection takes its name from is heavily steeped in settling a longstanding continuity issue, answering, finally, what happened to Jane Foster after he soul was merged with Sif’s long ago to save the human’s life. The question simmered towards the end of Moench’s time on the title when Sif joined Thor on Earth. While he continued to switch between his Asgardian self and Donald Blake, Sif remained Sif. The issue is brought to a head when Donald Blake is questioned as the probable suspect in Jane’s murder. Looking to clear Blake’s name, Thor searches for the Runestaff that merged the two souls, sending him, Sif, and Keith Kincaid across the galaxy to retrieve it. In the grand scheme of things, it returns Jane Foster to the Marvel Universe, an important detail decades later, and mostly resolves any outstanding issues for the Donald Blake persona. The run ends on an awkward note, indicating that the question of Sif on Earth would be resolved in an upcoming graphic novel (which turned out to be I, Whom the Gods Would Destroy, which wasn’t released for another four years and did not have any involvement from Zelenetz) and also shows Sif already back in Asgard. Basically, issue 336 ends with everything in place for Simonson to take over the following month.

During his time on Thor, Zelenetz did script issues 330-331, one of the few stories that delves deeply into the question of Thor’s impact on the world as a supposed god. Artist Bob Hall is credited as the plotter for both issues with Zelenetz only scripting, but that doesn’t matter. The two work so well together that you’d think it was written by a single person. A small group of worshipers of Thor make their presence in Chicago known after one of them fake a suicide attempt to get Thor to save her. Arthur Blackwood, a Christian fundamentalist coming from a long line of them, is so incensed that he’s expelled from the seminary his family founded and, somehow, is visited by his father’s spirit and given superpowers by God, dressing up as a knight called the Crusader. He initially defeats Thor in battle, nearly killing him, until Thor returns and wins the day. The idea of Thor as a religious figure is addressed head on along with concepts of religious zealotry. Zelenetz’s dialogue is heavily critical of Blackwood’s fanaticism while emphasising how out of step it is with the teachings of the New Testament. Blackwood’s secondary conflict after Thor is with Father William, the priest that expels him and, then, recognises him as the Crusader. William continually preaches tolerance and love, siding with Thor and not seeing any conflict between the Thunder God and his Christian faith.

The unease Thor expresses at the first sign of worship is interesting and would carry over into one of the annuals Zelenetz wrote. The phrasing of Thor’s reluctance to be an object of worship is interesting as Zelenetz never discounts the idea that Thor is a god: “I DO NOT SEEK WORSHIP, THAT IS LONG IN THE PAST... WHEN THE WAY OF THE WARRIOR WAS ONCE ACCEPTED.” He continually shrugs off worship of him as no longer being suitable for modern humanity. Even Odin instructs him that “THOU CANNOT ACCEPT WORSHIP IN RETURN. FOR THE DAY OF OUR KING HAS LONG PASSED.” Instead, Thor has settled into, as many others have pointed out, the modern mythology: a superhero. The form of worship that he and the Asgardians (usually known as Norse) had was one based around a specific lifestyle that suited a specific time. Now, Thor’s role has evolved and changed, shifting from one of worship to servitude. With superheroes, there isn’t an expectation of payment, whether through behaviour or sacrifice, to gain the favour of a god; there is simply the need for help. In the end, Thor’s faith in ‘goodness,’ as he emphasises, overcomes the Crusader’s zealotry. Thor’s initial loss is explained away as his doubt over his place on Earth. It’s only when he fully rejects his former role as an object of worship and embraces the humble role of servant that he’s able to win. It’s a rather clever way to weave in the progression from ‘god’ to ‘superhero’ with the story of Thor and his lesson in humility.

But, Zelenetz addresses the idea of Thor as an object of worship in annual #11 as well. That annual  is basically a series of short stories telling the highlights of Thor’s life. The fifth chapter is titled “The Worship of Midgard” and has Thor going to Earth to show his favour to some of his worshippers. However, when these Vikings slaughter a Christian monastery, Thor reacts is shocked and looks to retreat from Earth forever, not wanting to have a role in the killing of innocents. It’s a glossing over of the Norse gods from mythology and seeks to portray Thor as always being the same as the superhero version. Zelenetz makes Thor remaining on Earth as a superhero explicitly an act of atonement to humanity. But, placing the gods of mythology within the context of superhero fiction seems to be a concern of Zelenetz as he does something similar in annual #10 where, when faced with the Demigorge (the god eater), he has Thor assemble a group of gods from various pantheons, basically making their own superhero team of gods. This approach aligns with the work of Alan Moore and Grant Morrison among others. Morrison is particularly associated with the idea of superhero as modern mythology in mainstream superhero comics and this is clearly Zelenetz’s approach. More than that, like Morrison, it seems rooted in the idea of stories possessing tremendous power.

When you go beyond the monthly Thor issues that Zelenetz wrote, there’s an artifice to his work. A winking knowledge that he’s telling you a story. He leans on the Norns in a few stories to provide narration and framing, but, as he dealing with characters from mythology, he very much treats them within their original purpose: to tell stories and provide morals. Thor annual #11 is so rigid in its adherence to retelling Thor stories from mythology that it barely seems to resemble superhero comics. That issue is more a series of fables than anything else, which works quite well in the context of an annual. While annual #10 has him and Mark Gruenwald establish a sort of unified order of the gods in the Marvel Universe that Al Ewing is currently drawing upon, in a fashion, in Immortal Thor.

The Charles Vess stories all have the same level of artifice, very self-conscious of their nature as stories. Characters lack a certain amount of agency in the face of fate. In The Raven Banner, Greyval tries to circumvent his fate and finds that he must work very hard to regain it, righting his wrong of breaking the set story. The four-issue Warriors Three story is all about Loki trying to doom Asgard by ensuring that a prophesised marriage doesn’t occur while the heroes work to ensure that fate is fulfilled – and, in the process, each of the heroes confronts some flaw in themself, overcome it, and that triumph is key to the eventual righting of fate. But, that’s his writing in the macro. At that larger level, he seems very concerned with these stories as self-consciously constructed narratives that exist within a specific storytelling tradition.

In the micro, Zelenetz is acutely aware that, for these stories to have any true power, they must keep the attention of the reader. His work with Vess, in particular, is full of different types of comedy. Puns and visual, physical comedy are the main ones. With the Warriors Three, he takes each of their main personality traits and blows them up to encompass entire situations, becoming the focal point of their adventures. Volstagg’s bluster covering his cowardice coupled with his size; Hogun’s incredible seriousness and devotion to duty; and Fandral’s womanising conflicting with his chivalry. I mean, pairing Hogun with a doofus who won’t stop running his mouth is a basic comedy idea, but adding on tiny fairies as another level of foil, all while Hogun must carry a goat? Hilarious. And it’s a bit of a revelation to see how adept Vess is at that sort of visual comedy. At this point, his work is associated with a certain type of fantasy comic art that, while not as serious as, say, P. Craig Russell, is still a sort of respected and beloved serious that obscures how much humour in these stories comes from his art. Of nailing these perfect panels where a look carries everything.

Due to its lack of reprints, The Raven Banner is somewhat overshadowed by the Warriors Three stories – that and the familiarity of those characters. Part of Marvel’s graphic novel line of the ‘80s, the Raven Banner features appearances by some known Asgardians, but mostly focuses on Greyval, the latest in a lineage of Asgardians who carry the Raven Banner into battle for Asgard. Like many great mythological objects, the Raven Banner comes with a boon and a price: the side that carries it into battle is fated to win that battle, but the specific person who carries the banner is fated to die in the battle. When Greyval’s father, carrying on the family’s tradition as banner bearer, carries it into battle with giants, he dies and... Greyval is nowhere to be found. Instead, a scheme by the giants and trolls is revealed as they steal the Raven Banner, and we see that they worked to keep Greyval from the battle under the auspices that he could avoid his fate to die as the banner’s bearer and another god would take up that burden. After his marriage to a Valkyrie, it’s revealed that the banner was stolen (his excuse was that he was too busy killing giants to claim it) and he must overcome his fear of his fate to recover it. With assistance from Balder, he undergoes a quest to Valhalla, Hel, and other Realms, eventually confronting his boastful cousin who succumbed to the seduction of the trolls to reclaim the Raven Banner – and, in the end, he brings the banner into battle, giving Asgard the edge in its battle and, of course, he dies. But, fear not, because he died with honour and glory and, when the son he sired on his wedding night is able, he will take up the mantle as well. It’s an incredibly captivating story, watching Greyval struggle to avoid his fate but also hide that he’s working to do so. It’s very much a story of redemption as Balder takes up his cause, learning the full story of what happened, and pledging to help Greyval make right his mistake, arguing that no one should be judged only by one moment. That idea of an inescapable fate butting up against having to win back your fate works so well in the Asgardian context. It’s a shame that it’s yet to be reprinted, that I know of.

The idea that these characters’ lives are ruled by fate comes up in many of the stories, as they both fight against fate (and lose) or must fight for fate (and win). But, never within the context of the superhero stories. Fate only plays a role within the realm of mythology and legend. In ‘tales of Asgard.’ Whether it’s Thor trying to save a sole remaining sailor from his fated death or the Warriors Three trying to ensure a marriage happens or Greyval first avoid and then embracing his fated death... Even Thor’s eventual claim to Mjolnir is treated an inescapable fate. It’s only when he moves into the modern world and Asgard’s time has ‘passed’ that the idea of fate ruling them has as well. Zelenetz never tackles that idea head on, but it’s such an interesting one that you can see only when looking at his various works from a distance. What about modern humanity makes the idea of fate irrelevant and lacking in power? Why are Asgardian rules by fate while Thor the superhero is not? What has changed? We never get an answer. We never even get the question. Yet, it hangs and is part of what makes these comics so fascinating to read.

It’s understandable that Zelenetz’s name isn’t mentioned too often. He was one of those writers who passed briefly through the industry and, if you didn’t look at the specific areas he touched, you wouldn’t have even noticed him. Reading his Thor and Asgardian work, though, makes me want to track down the rest of his writing. He shows such a keen, clever mind. His approach to Thor takes some of what Roy Thomas, Mark Gruenwald, and Ralph Macchio did and take it further. Numerous writers that followed him, including Walt Simonson, Robert Rodi, Matt Fraction, and Al Ewing, are all working within a similar tradition. Without knowing it, I had been missing on some crucial Thor comics. I’m glad that I’ve finally rectified that oversight.