I hadn't thought about the influence of Watchmen specifically on this book. Unless there are some very specific allusions, I never consider Watchmen specifically. I just assume it's an influence and move on. That's a terrible habit and I need to break it.
I don't know why, but they never seem to consider the limitations they'll face before undertaking projects like these, do they? Shawn and I both said some similar things (him better than I) and the main thrust is that Identity Crisis tried to tell a story that require the superheroes not to be DC superheroes. They needed to exist outside of concerns over next week's comics, because the story demanded that they not be limited in such a way.
I have never understood Batman's outrage at mindwiping Dr. Light. That always seemed inconsitent with his character, which seems to have only one line: he doesn't kill. Everything else is fair game. Except there needs to be a reason for them to mindwipe him, too. Because they need a dark secret. The story came first, the characters second... in a world where the characters always come first, even over real people. ("Of course," says Grant Morrison, "Because they're more real than us! They'll outlive us all!") How does this slip through the cracks? To call it the beginning of the era of "DON'T SAY NO TO PEOPLE WITH NAMES THAT SOMEONE ON THE STREET MIGHT RECOGNISE" isn't right, because that had begun years prior with Kevin Smith and J. Michael Straczynski.
Books like this make people like me wonder what an editor's job is. And if they're proud of having it. You can just picture a group of nervous people muttering about all of the flaws while Dan DiDio stomps around, froth at the mouth, eyes everywhere, shouting "I SMELL MONEY!" over and over again until the muttering dies down and he's free to take a giant shit on each of their desks in peace.
In a comic of dumb moments, the dumbest always seemed to be the part where Green Arrow stabs Deathstroke in his eyepatch eye. Why wouldn't you blind the asshole? Why even introduce the idea that Green Arrow would do such a thing and not follow through on the logical path? It's stuff like that that confounds me. (So much about this comic does!) What does one think when they decide to have Green Arrow stab a guy in his eye that doesn't work instead of blinding him? Are we to assume that Green Arrow is a moron? That he think it too cruel to blind the assassin? What is the fucking point?
I shouldn't have picked this topic. It brings up bad memories.
One last question: what's worse, Identity Crisis or Infinite Crisis?
In 30 minutes, we move onto a good comic: Spaceman with Adam Langton!
We have hit ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS raised. Actually, it's $1010 officially. I keep running out of ways to express my shock at how much money has been raised, but it's still there. Over one thousand dollars. Amazing.
[Don't forget to donate what you can to the Hero Initiative (Details in this post)! After you do, let me know via comment or e-mail (found at the righthand side) so I can keep track of donations -- and who to thank.]
Showing posts with label brad meltzer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label brad meltzer. Show all posts
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Blogathon 36: Identity Crisis (Shawn Starr Guest Post)
The failure of Identity Crisis is that it’s goals outweighs it’s author’s abilities by such a large margin that it collapses in on itself and reveals the fatal flaw of realism in comics, that it is impossible.
Meltzer attempts, with Identity Crisis, to recreate Alan Moore and Dave Gibbon’s Watchmen within the confines of the DCU, but Meltzer (no matter how many New York Times Best Selling titles are in his bibliography) is not Alan Moore, and even Alan Moore knew better than to be saddled with the DCU (or Rags Morales for that matter) while writing his magnum opus. What we end up with then is a surface level mimicry of Moore’s masterpiece, Identity Crisis touches on many of the themes of Moore and Gibbon’s Watchmen (generations, maturity, violence, sexism, political commentary, and the psychosis of a “hero”), but it never strains to go deeper than to push those buttons while misinterpreting why they were there in the first place.
Watchmen redefined what superheroes could be; Identity Crisis shows us what they cannot be.
----------------
The biggest failure of Identity Crisis, and the one which doomed the entire series from the start, is the DCU itself. Even though much of the continuity and characterizations in the DCU were relatively new compared to Marvel (following 1985’s Crisis on Infinite Earths), Meltzer still had to deal with nearly twenty years of history. Where Watchmen used analogues (characters with the perception of history, but devoid of any experience Moore himself did not craft explicitly), Meltzer had to contend with the lived in originals (A.K.A. “The Big Boy Toys”). This forced him into the dilemma of retconning in major moments (the rape of Sue Dibny) in order to make his mystery have any legs. The problem with this is all the stray threads it produces. Joss Whedon called Identity Crisis an epiphany in his introduction in that he changed the very concept of DC history, I’d call it lazy writing.
Once the League chose to alter Dr Light’s mind following several threats to rape their wives (for about 14 pages) in the early days of the League, why didn’t the idea of neutering every villain in the DCU become commonplace? Dr Light was a dufus following his “realignment”, a straight up joke. The plan had worked! So why not just “R.P. McMurphy” the Joker and be done with him? He kills people, I mean a lot of people, and so why is the Flash’s wife more important than the lives of every citizen of Gotham? Huh, Flash? Huh?
(They even mind wiped Batman for Christ sake!!!)
Where Anthony Burgess could deal with the idea of reprogramming the mind, and its moral implications in A Clockwork Orange, Meltzer simply opens a Pandora’s Box of implications and tries to ignore he ever opened it. He needed that rape to happen, so that we knew it wasn’t like the old days. The difference is Burgess controlled his universe, both future and past like Moore, Meltzer though could not by definition as the old days still existed.
--------------------
Another odd trait of Meltzer’s writing is its political aspect; Meltzer grafts onto the superhero community a definitive post-9/11 “American Vigilantism” reminiscent of the Bush Administration and also found in Neoconservative wet dreams.
Green Arrow’s vow of revenge against those involved in the killing of Sue Dibny "And whoever did this-he better pray the cops get him before we do." reads more like a Clint Eastwood line from Dirty Harry than something the DCU's permanent liberal would say (Unless he experienced an overnight epiphany like Christopher Hitchens). That vow though is, inevitably, expanded upon to mean anyone that could be connected with the perpetrators (fire was used, you use fire, you’re on the list) which resulted in goon squads of super heroes busting down anything that even resembles a hideout.
Wonder Woman goes so far as to choke and physically abuse an inmate because he used a specific type of knot while committing his crimes (a knot so common its Scout 101, as Superman comments), even when the perp had been incarcerated during the assault.
The political aspects of Meltzer’s scripts may be the most successful thing about the series; the only problem is that they cast the heroes in the role of the villain, and the villains as the oppressed to a large extent. A league of Rorschach’s defiling the Geneva Convention and habeas corpus to solve a crime one of them committed only to create a greater monster in the now-unwiped Dr Light.
---------------
This political message also ties into Meltzer’s attempt at “serious comics about serious stuff”. While many argue (and to some extent are correct) that the 90’s Image era was based on a misreading of Alan Moore and Frank Miller works (along with a dozen other creators I’m omitting because I don’t have all day), most of those comics (at least the popular ones) are the definition of anti-seriousness. Rob Liefeld never dropped his V for Vendetta for a reason, and the latter half of Miller’s career only goes to show where his allegiances lied.
Meltzer and the generation that followed him, the Post-Image, are the ones guiltiest of a wild and unsophisticated appropriation of Moore/Miller motifs. They make a mockery of it, with the intent of honoring it. Meltzer along with the Geoff Johns and now Scott Snyder’s, pile on these moments of seriousness, rapes, murders, miscarriages, etc., until they collapse on themselves and become a Johnny Ryan parody.
The final page of Identity Crisis #1 depicts Elastic Man holding the charred corpse of his wife (which as a scene is rather well done on its own), it’s not that exploitative, but then Meltzer just has to add onto it with just one more panel, to really nail the scene. That panel is of course of a pregnancy test lying on the floor with a note attached “Daddy, Two lines = POSITIVE!” and then that scene just becomes the funniest thing I’ve read since the opening story of The Furry Trap.
This isn’t the only instance, following the rape of Sue Dibny by Dr Light; Light spends 10 pages hunched on the ground foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog screaming about how he’s going to rape everyone’s families. Everyone from The Flash’s wife, Batman’s wife, Superman’s Wife, Green Lanterns alien lover, Whatever Hawkman does stuff with. I figured he would start threatening people’s dogs next if the page count allowed for it.
He just can’t stop himself from going that extra step, and it ruins everything he was trying for.
----------------------
Then there's the ending of Meltzer’s mystery which is a last minute twist no one saw coming, just like EC comics, and just like Watchmen. The problem though is Ozymandias's plan was foreshadowed the entire time, it just that no one saw it coming. It was a perfect reveal because it made complete sense, but you couldn't see it coming (His confession at the end and the “I did it 35 minutes ago” meme it spawned is also a brilliant deconstruction of the villain plot reveal).
But Identity Crisis, I still don’t get it.
It doesn't make any sense. It’s like Armageddon 2001 where they just changed it at the last minute, but at least in the case of that book it was because people guessed the ending, but in Identity Crisis no one ever could because there is nothing in the prior text to predict it.
It certainly is Jean who killed Sue, that's undeniable, or it’s undeniable in the face of 10 pages of exposition as confession which says just that. A “fair play mystery” this is not.
The problem is that as Batman (A.K.A. the voice of reason) keeps repeating, who Benefits? I still don’t know the answer to that query. For example, how did Jean think she would benefit from this? The Atom in the beginning seems to still be in love with her, she seems past him (she was the one who left him), moving onto new experiences (signing back all his patients so she wasn’t indebted to him). So how did it go from that, to grabbing one of his suits and killing an unrelated person (which she brought additional weapons for, even though I guess it was an accident?) only so that she could get The Atom to come back to her and fall in love all over again. And how did that plan work?
Just to give an alternative scenario, a “cape killer” in Watchmen did not make Silk Spectre fall in love with Dr. Manhattan MORE after they began to disconnect, all it did was accelerate her leaving him and having awkward couch sex with Nite Owl. Jeans plan to have had the exact opposite effect and pushed him towards getting freaky with Tigra.
-------------------------
So my point is Identity Crisis isn’t as good as Watchmen.
Or something.
“An era can be said to end when its basic illusions are exhausted." -Arthur Miller (from Identity Crisis)
P.S: Chad picked the joke book off my list.
[Don't forget to donate what you can to the Hero Initiative (Details in this post)! After you do, let me know via comment or e-mail (found at the righthand side) so I can keep track of donations -- and who to thank.]
Meltzer attempts, with Identity Crisis, to recreate Alan Moore and Dave Gibbon’s Watchmen within the confines of the DCU, but Meltzer (no matter how many New York Times Best Selling titles are in his bibliography) is not Alan Moore, and even Alan Moore knew better than to be saddled with the DCU (or Rags Morales for that matter) while writing his magnum opus. What we end up with then is a surface level mimicry of Moore’s masterpiece, Identity Crisis touches on many of the themes of Moore and Gibbon’s Watchmen (generations, maturity, violence, sexism, political commentary, and the psychosis of a “hero”), but it never strains to go deeper than to push those buttons while misinterpreting why they were there in the first place.
Watchmen redefined what superheroes could be; Identity Crisis shows us what they cannot be.
----------------
The biggest failure of Identity Crisis, and the one which doomed the entire series from the start, is the DCU itself. Even though much of the continuity and characterizations in the DCU were relatively new compared to Marvel (following 1985’s Crisis on Infinite Earths), Meltzer still had to deal with nearly twenty years of history. Where Watchmen used analogues (characters with the perception of history, but devoid of any experience Moore himself did not craft explicitly), Meltzer had to contend with the lived in originals (A.K.A. “The Big Boy Toys”). This forced him into the dilemma of retconning in major moments (the rape of Sue Dibny) in order to make his mystery have any legs. The problem with this is all the stray threads it produces. Joss Whedon called Identity Crisis an epiphany in his introduction in that he changed the very concept of DC history, I’d call it lazy writing.
Once the League chose to alter Dr Light’s mind following several threats to rape their wives (for about 14 pages) in the early days of the League, why didn’t the idea of neutering every villain in the DCU become commonplace? Dr Light was a dufus following his “realignment”, a straight up joke. The plan had worked! So why not just “R.P. McMurphy” the Joker and be done with him? He kills people, I mean a lot of people, and so why is the Flash’s wife more important than the lives of every citizen of Gotham? Huh, Flash? Huh?
(They even mind wiped Batman for Christ sake!!!)
Where Anthony Burgess could deal with the idea of reprogramming the mind, and its moral implications in A Clockwork Orange, Meltzer simply opens a Pandora’s Box of implications and tries to ignore he ever opened it. He needed that rape to happen, so that we knew it wasn’t like the old days. The difference is Burgess controlled his universe, both future and past like Moore, Meltzer though could not by definition as the old days still existed.
--------------------
Another odd trait of Meltzer’s writing is its political aspect; Meltzer grafts onto the superhero community a definitive post-9/11 “American Vigilantism” reminiscent of the Bush Administration and also found in Neoconservative wet dreams.
Green Arrow’s vow of revenge against those involved in the killing of Sue Dibny "And whoever did this-he better pray the cops get him before we do." reads more like a Clint Eastwood line from Dirty Harry than something the DCU's permanent liberal would say (Unless he experienced an overnight epiphany like Christopher Hitchens). That vow though is, inevitably, expanded upon to mean anyone that could be connected with the perpetrators (fire was used, you use fire, you’re on the list) which resulted in goon squads of super heroes busting down anything that even resembles a hideout.
Wonder Woman goes so far as to choke and physically abuse an inmate because he used a specific type of knot while committing his crimes (a knot so common its Scout 101, as Superman comments), even when the perp had been incarcerated during the assault.
The political aspects of Meltzer’s scripts may be the most successful thing about the series; the only problem is that they cast the heroes in the role of the villain, and the villains as the oppressed to a large extent. A league of Rorschach’s defiling the Geneva Convention and habeas corpus to solve a crime one of them committed only to create a greater monster in the now-unwiped Dr Light.
---------------
This political message also ties into Meltzer’s attempt at “serious comics about serious stuff”. While many argue (and to some extent are correct) that the 90’s Image era was based on a misreading of Alan Moore and Frank Miller works (along with a dozen other creators I’m omitting because I don’t have all day), most of those comics (at least the popular ones) are the definition of anti-seriousness. Rob Liefeld never dropped his V for Vendetta for a reason, and the latter half of Miller’s career only goes to show where his allegiances lied.
Meltzer and the generation that followed him, the Post-Image, are the ones guiltiest of a wild and unsophisticated appropriation of Moore/Miller motifs. They make a mockery of it, with the intent of honoring it. Meltzer along with the Geoff Johns and now Scott Snyder’s, pile on these moments of seriousness, rapes, murders, miscarriages, etc., until they collapse on themselves and become a Johnny Ryan parody.
The final page of Identity Crisis #1 depicts Elastic Man holding the charred corpse of his wife (which as a scene is rather well done on its own), it’s not that exploitative, but then Meltzer just has to add onto it with just one more panel, to really nail the scene. That panel is of course of a pregnancy test lying on the floor with a note attached “Daddy, Two lines = POSITIVE!” and then that scene just becomes the funniest thing I’ve read since the opening story of The Furry Trap.
This isn’t the only instance, following the rape of Sue Dibny by Dr Light; Light spends 10 pages hunched on the ground foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog screaming about how he’s going to rape everyone’s families. Everyone from The Flash’s wife, Batman’s wife, Superman’s Wife, Green Lanterns alien lover, Whatever Hawkman does stuff with. I figured he would start threatening people’s dogs next if the page count allowed for it.
He just can’t stop himself from going that extra step, and it ruins everything he was trying for.
----------------------
Then there's the ending of Meltzer’s mystery which is a last minute twist no one saw coming, just like EC comics, and just like Watchmen. The problem though is Ozymandias's plan was foreshadowed the entire time, it just that no one saw it coming. It was a perfect reveal because it made complete sense, but you couldn't see it coming (His confession at the end and the “I did it 35 minutes ago” meme it spawned is also a brilliant deconstruction of the villain plot reveal).
But Identity Crisis, I still don’t get it.
It doesn't make any sense. It’s like Armageddon 2001 where they just changed it at the last minute, but at least in the case of that book it was because people guessed the ending, but in Identity Crisis no one ever could because there is nothing in the prior text to predict it.
It certainly is Jean who killed Sue, that's undeniable, or it’s undeniable in the face of 10 pages of exposition as confession which says just that. A “fair play mystery” this is not.
The problem is that as Batman (A.K.A. the voice of reason) keeps repeating, who Benefits? I still don’t know the answer to that query. For example, how did Jean think she would benefit from this? The Atom in the beginning seems to still be in love with her, she seems past him (she was the one who left him), moving onto new experiences (signing back all his patients so she wasn’t indebted to him). So how did it go from that, to grabbing one of his suits and killing an unrelated person (which she brought additional weapons for, even though I guess it was an accident?) only so that she could get The Atom to come back to her and fall in love all over again. And how did that plan work?
Just to give an alternative scenario, a “cape killer” in Watchmen did not make Silk Spectre fall in love with Dr. Manhattan MORE after they began to disconnect, all it did was accelerate her leaving him and having awkward couch sex with Nite Owl. Jeans plan to have had the exact opposite effect and pushed him towards getting freaky with Tigra.
-------------------------
So my point is Identity Crisis isn’t as good as Watchmen.
Or something.
“An era can be said to end when its basic illusions are exhausted." -Arthur Miller (from Identity Crisis)
P.S: Chad picked the joke book off my list.
[Don't forget to donate what you can to the Hero Initiative (Details in this post)! After you do, let me know via comment or e-mail (found at the righthand side) so I can keep track of donations -- and who to thank.]
Blogathon 35: Identity Crisis (Part 1)
I'll be honest: I picked this book, because it seemed like a funny thing to make Shawn Starr write about. Hey, it was on his list...
I don't own this comic anymore. I had the trade and have since gotten rid of it. I don't miss it. This was a bad comic series. It had some nice small moments of emotion and an interesting core idea, but the execution was usually so poor -- and the mystery handled with such retched abandon that it's embarrassing -- that it just made me feel sad to look at it. A work that convinced so many people that it's worthwhile somehow...
I'll never understand how mediocrity thrives so much. What did people like about Identity Crisis so much? I'll grant them the initial stuff with Ralph, but... after...? Was it the convoluted storytelling? The mystery that didn't really add up? The big eyes and mishapen faces? The endless parade of narrators that were used when convenient?
I'm struggling here to see it. It almost seems like it was a popular comic because it was a popular comic. Does that make any sense? The way that some people are famous for being famous? Can that happen with stuff like comics? Can it simply be that this comic was going to be popular and so it was popular? Fuck quality or reasons -- this is just what it is and nothing I or you or anyone says will change a damn thing. That makes sense to me. If God came down and said that, yeah, that's what happened, I would accept that explanation and move on with my life. But, that people genuinely like this comic... how do you stomach that?
What's weird is that I'm not sure that I know anyone who likes it. Those people exist, but I don't... know... any of them...? It seems like I would. Will Shawn be one of them? How will I look him in the eye after...
The part where the book really lost the plot was when it suddenly became about Captain Boomerang being all concerned about his kid. Like heroes and villains have anything in common in this story. A story where heroes know the secret identities of most of the villains those villains families live their lives, while there's a concern that, should the villains learn the heroes' secret identities, all of the heroes' families would be slaughtered. In what world would you tell that story and then try to create a parallel between the two groups? It makes no sense. When Batman is licking his lips at the possibility of dressing your son up in tights and having his way before slitting his throat with a Batarang, then we'll pretend like we give a fuck about lame tubby villain wanting to reconnect with his kid before he goes off and kills Robin's dad.
There's also the fact that we're confronting an issue where typical superhero morality fails. Batman's outrage is laughable in how pathetic it is. Their fear should have been that the villains would learn their secret identities and that would force them to kill every villain. Because they would have to. Or fuck them and their cowardly morality that only got their loved ones killed. In many ways, this is a series that shines a light on how superheroes are awful, irresponsible people who preach a limited morality that doesn't work when things go bad.
It doesn't help that you turn the typical supervillains into stone cold murderous rapists. The worse the bad guys get, the dumber the heroes look. Do they not realise that? Every time the ante is upped, the heroes look that much worse for not doing anything about it. Every Joker story lessens Batman. Sorry, but it's true.
Awful comic... I think Shawn will agree... let's see...
We're up to $970 raised!
[Don't forget to donate what you can to the Hero Initiative (Details in this post)! After you do, let me know via comment or e-mail (found at the righthand side) so I can keep track of donations -- and who to thank.]
I don't own this comic anymore. I had the trade and have since gotten rid of it. I don't miss it. This was a bad comic series. It had some nice small moments of emotion and an interesting core idea, but the execution was usually so poor -- and the mystery handled with such retched abandon that it's embarrassing -- that it just made me feel sad to look at it. A work that convinced so many people that it's worthwhile somehow...
I'll never understand how mediocrity thrives so much. What did people like about Identity Crisis so much? I'll grant them the initial stuff with Ralph, but... after...? Was it the convoluted storytelling? The mystery that didn't really add up? The big eyes and mishapen faces? The endless parade of narrators that were used when convenient?
I'm struggling here to see it. It almost seems like it was a popular comic because it was a popular comic. Does that make any sense? The way that some people are famous for being famous? Can that happen with stuff like comics? Can it simply be that this comic was going to be popular and so it was popular? Fuck quality or reasons -- this is just what it is and nothing I or you or anyone says will change a damn thing. That makes sense to me. If God came down and said that, yeah, that's what happened, I would accept that explanation and move on with my life. But, that people genuinely like this comic... how do you stomach that?
What's weird is that I'm not sure that I know anyone who likes it. Those people exist, but I don't... know... any of them...? It seems like I would. Will Shawn be one of them? How will I look him in the eye after...
The part where the book really lost the plot was when it suddenly became about Captain Boomerang being all concerned about his kid. Like heroes and villains have anything in common in this story. A story where heroes know the secret identities of most of the villains those villains families live their lives, while there's a concern that, should the villains learn the heroes' secret identities, all of the heroes' families would be slaughtered. In what world would you tell that story and then try to create a parallel between the two groups? It makes no sense. When Batman is licking his lips at the possibility of dressing your son up in tights and having his way before slitting his throat with a Batarang, then we'll pretend like we give a fuck about lame tubby villain wanting to reconnect with his kid before he goes off and kills Robin's dad.
There's also the fact that we're confronting an issue where typical superhero morality fails. Batman's outrage is laughable in how pathetic it is. Their fear should have been that the villains would learn their secret identities and that would force them to kill every villain. Because they would have to. Or fuck them and their cowardly morality that only got their loved ones killed. In many ways, this is a series that shines a light on how superheroes are awful, irresponsible people who preach a limited morality that doesn't work when things go bad.
It doesn't help that you turn the typical supervillains into stone cold murderous rapists. The worse the bad guys get, the dumber the heroes look. Do they not realise that? Every time the ante is upped, the heroes look that much worse for not doing anything about it. Every Joker story lessens Batman. Sorry, but it's true.
Awful comic... I think Shawn will agree... let's see...
We're up to $970 raised!
[Don't forget to donate what you can to the Hero Initiative (Details in this post)! After you do, let me know via comment or e-mail (found at the righthand side) so I can keep track of donations -- and who to thank.]
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Raymond Chandler's Twelve Notes on the Mystery Story: Identity Crisis
[The first in my application of Raymond Chandler's "Twelve Notes on the Mystery Story" to comic book mystery stories. New posts at random.]
I'm a big Raymond Chandler fan. So big that I'm one of those people who bought The Notebooks of Raymond Chandler, a handy little paperback containing odds and ends like his essay, "Twelve Notes on the Mystery Story." Well, it's not so much an essay as it is... a series of notes. Also included are 13 addenda, bringing the total number of notes up to 25. I figured it would be fun to take these notes and apply them to some comic book mystery stories and see how well they match up to Chandler's standards.
Before I begin, I should note that I'm reprinting the notes in full rather than summarising them. Now, this is a total copyright breach and if those who hold the copyright want me to take down this post, I'm okay with that. I'm using Chandler's notes in full, because he says what he means better than I could. I began with the intention of summarising and quickly decided against it, because Chandler is clear and to the point often. In some spots, he goes on tangents, but they help, I think. Chandler's notes are in bold.
Also, my selection for this first post is Identity Crisis by Brad Meltzer. We all remember this book and since it is primarily a mystery story--and one of the better known and received ones in recent years--it seems like the logical starting point. I reread it for this post and enjoyed it quite a bit, but I'm warning you ahead of time that it doesn't quite make it as a mystery story according to Chandler.
My plan here is to go through Chandler's notes and apply each to Identity Crisis. Some notes are repetative or don't apply, but do allow for discussion nonetheless. I don't know how well this will work, so let's see. Should be fun.
Twelve Notes on the Mystery Story (Revised April 18, 1948)
1. It must be credibly motivated, both as to the original situation and the denouement; it must consist of the plausible actions of plausible people in plausible circumstances, it being remembered that plausibility is largely a matter of style. This requirement rules out most trick endings and a great many "closed circle" stories in which the least likely character is forcibly made over into the criminal, without convincing anybody. It also rules out such elaborate mises-en-scene as Christie's Murder in a Calais Coach, where the whole setup for the crime requires such a fluky set of happenings that it could never seem real.
So, do we buy Jean Lorring as the killer? Her motivation is to attack Sue Dibny and not kill her, just scare the superhero community enough that her ex-husband, Ray Palmer (aka the Atom) will want to get back together with her. Meltzer emphasises that the families of superheroes are the ones to benefit, so there's a certain logic there. I'll give credible motivation of Lorring's actions here.
But, is this a story "in which the least likely character is forcibly made over into the criminal, without convincing anybody"? I think Meltzer justifies Lorring's actions within the context of the story, but if you knew the character ahead of time, it could be hard to believe. Little explanation is given as to why she didn't just call up Ray and ask him to dinner. There's no set-up for her turn, so while the motivation is plausible, it's only that way because we don't know anything about her otherwise. Since this does take place within a larger world, I don't think Meltzer succeeded here.
2. It must be technically sound as to the methods of murder and detection. No fantastic poisons or improper effects from poison such as death from nonfatal doses, etc. No use of silencers on revolvers (they won't work) or snakes climbing bellropes ("The Speckled Band"). Such things at once destroy the foundation of the story. If the detective is a trained policeman, he must act like one, and have the mental and physical equipment that go with the job. If he is a private investigator or amateur, he must at least know enough about police methods not to make an ass of himself. When a policeman is made out to be a fool, as he always was on the Sherlock Holmes stories, this not only depreciates the accomplishment of the detective but it makes the reader doubt the author's knowledge of his own field. Conan Doyle and Poe were primitives in this art and stand in relation to the best modern writers as Giotto does to da Vinci. They did things which are no longer permissible and exposed ignorances that are no longer tolerated. Also, police art, itself, was rudimentary in their time. "The Purloined Letter" would not fool a modern cop for four minutes. Conan Doyle showed no knowledge whatever of the organization of Scotland Yard's men. Christie commits the same stupidities in our time, but that doesn't make them right. Contrast Austin Freeman, who wrote a story about a forged fingerprint ten years before police method realized such things could be done.
Okay, obviously the "fantastic poisons" and such don't apply here since this a story that takes place solidly within the realm of the fantastic. We'll ignore that part of this note. This note does raise a few problems with the story, though. The first is, who is the detective? This is a narrative problem I've had with Identity Crisis since the first time I've read it as I think it's too expansive in the number of voices it includes. I understand that Meltzer was going for an expansive story, but it makes the mystery element much weaker. Green Arrow is the only consistent voice throughout the entire story in that his first-person narration shows up in every issue. But, Green Arrow also isn't the detective since the mystery is solved, ultimately, by Batman, Dr. Mid-Nite, and Ray Palmer. Since there are so many people involved, it's difficult to get behind any of them and it also allows for various methods of detection to ultimately solve the mystery--leaving the reader in the cold. (Actually, Elongated Man/Ralph Dibny's detective skills are so emphasised in the first issue that you'd think he would play a bigger role, but he doesn't play an active role after issue three. After that, he appears in flashbacks and single panels that show he's still grieving--except for the end of issue seven. Odd, don't you think?)
The second problem is that the methods of detection aren't sound. Jean Lorring gains access to the Dibny house by phone and then "grows" to regular size. At one point, Mister Miracle notes that there are 17 methods of gaining entry to the house and they didn't check the phone records? Really? They didn't do the most basic of police procedures? Or, they, somehow, didn't find any physical evidence despite Lorring standing there at full size with a flamethrower? These are such basic things that our detectives--who are supposedly better than the police--miss. A pretty big flaw in the story, I think.
I also have to wonder why the autopsy takes so long. It takes Dr. Mid-Nite at least a week, it seems, to complete it from when he began. Does that seem a bit long to anyone else?
3. It must be honest with the reader. This is always said, but the implications are not realized. Important facts not only must not be concealed, they must not be distorted by false emphasis. Unimportant facts must not be projected in such a way as to make them portentous. (This creation of red herrings and false menace out of trick camera work and mood shots if the typical Hollywood mystery picture cheat.) Inferences from the facts are the detective's stock in trade; but he should disclose enough to keep the reader's mind working. It is arguable, although not certain, that inferences arising from special knowledge (e.g., Dr. Thorndyke) are a bit of a cheat, because the basic theory of all good mystery writing is that at some stage not too late in the story the reader did have the materials to solve the problem. If specal scientific knowledge was necessary to interpret the facts, the reader did not have the solution unless he had the special knowledge. It may have been Austin Freeman's feeling about this that led him to the invention of the inverted detective story, in which the reader knows the solution from the beginning and takes his pleasure from watching the detective trace it out a step at a time.
The story isn't honest with the reader regarding the death of Sue Dibny. Meltzer and artist Rags Morales give us a panel in issue one where Sue hears a noise downstairs and this is obviously a red herring. Those few panels exist only to throw the reader off and are cheap tricks.
Some would jump on the misdirection when Lorring is almost killed, but the information we get there is from her, so it's misleading, but for the characters as well. The portrayal of Sue's death is seen only by the readers, so puposeful misdirection only affects the readers. It's a cheat that hurts the resolution of the mystery since the reader will then look back and see that the authors lied.
4. It must be realistic as to character, setting, and atmosphere. It must be about real people in the real world. Very few mystery writers have any talent for character work, but that doesn't mean it is not necessary. It makes the difference between the story you reread and remember and the one you skim through and almost instantly forget. Those like Valentine Williams who say the problem overrides everything are merely trying to cover up their own inability to create character.
Here, Meltzer shines. He does his best to make sure this story is rooted in realistic characters. I've read this story three times now and it's been good each time, because Meltzer does such good character work. Actually, I think his devotion to that element of the writing hurts the mystery--and it's almost certainly a choice he made while writing. The story is so expansive and deals with so many characters that it's more a character piece than a mystery, honestly. And, as Chandler himself will point out, there's nothing wrong with that. However, it does leave the story open to certain criticisms--but what story doesn't?
5. It must have a sound story value apart from the mystery element; i.e., the investigation itself must be an adventure worth reading.
Again, the murder of Sue Dibny kicks things off, but the story becomes so much more with the villains, the exploration of what it's like for the families of superheroes, the mind-wiping of villains... Meltzer created a story that works very well outside of the mystery.
6. To achieve this it must have some form of suspense, even if only intellectual. This does not mean menace and especially it does not mean that the detective must be menaced by grave personal danger. This last is a trend and like all trends will exhaust itself by overimitation. Nor need the reader be kept hanging on the edge of his chair. The overplotted story can be dull too; too much shock may result in numbness to shock. But there must be conflict, physical, ethical or emotional, and there must be some element of danger in the broadest sense of the word.
This is a very nuanced "note," but it's one that I think Meltzer pulls off. There is action and threat of death, but there's also the suspense of the secret the old Leaguers share, of Batman finding out what they did to him, of the whole superhero community possibly torn apart... there's also the intellectual suspense of how Wally will handle it, how he'll come to terms with what was done--or, even how Green Arrow will defend it despite not agreeing with it at the time. Again, Meltzer uses the murder mystery as the catalyst for a lot more.
7. It must have color, lift, and a reasonable amount of dash. It takes an awful lot of technical adroitness to compensate for a dull style, although it has been done, especially in England.
Yeah, I'd say the story has all of these things. While I didn't like what I read of his Justice League of America run, Meltzer has his own style and he uses it here. His overuse of narrative captions, for instance, is very much part of his style as he wants to show us the inside of a lot of characters' heads. Also, his pacing is very good--that's more technique than style, but it's a stylised pacing that works with the suspense and mystery elements.
8. It must have enough essential simplicity to be explained easily when the time comes. (This is possibly the most often violated of all the rules). The ideal denouement is one in which everything is revealed in a flash of action. This is rare because ideas that good are always rare. The explanation need not be very short (except on the screen), and often it cannot be short; but it must be interesting in itself, it must be something the reader is anxious to hear, and not a new story with a new set of characters, dragged in to justify an overcomplicated plot. Above all the explanation must not be merely a long-winded assembling of minute circumstances which no ordinary reader could possibly be expected to remember. To make the solution dependent on this is a kind of unfairness, since here again the reader did not have the solution within his grasp, in any practical sense. To expect him to remember a thousand trivialities and from them to select that three that are decisive is as unfair as to expect him to have a profound knowledge of chemistry, metallurgy, or the mating habits of the Patagonian anteater.
The denouement is simple: Jean Lorring wanted to attack Sue to scare superheroes, including her ex-husband, into becoming more protective of their loved ones. To keep up the rouse and throw suspicion elsewhere, she fakes an attempt on her life and hires a supervillain to attack Jack Drake--but sends him a gun to make sure the villain fails.
9. It must baffle a reasonably intelligent reader. This opens up a very difficult question. Some of the best detective stories ever written (those of Austin Freeman, for example) seldom baffle an intelligent reader to the end. But the reader does not guess the complete solution and could not himself have made a logical demonstration of it. Since readers are of many minds, some will guess a cleverly hidden murder and some will be fooled by the most transparent plot. (Could the "Red-Headed League" ever really fool a modern reader?) It is not necessary or even possible to fool to the hilt the real aficionado of mystery fiction. A mystery story that consistently did that and was honest would be unintelligible to the average fan; he simply would not know what the story was all about. But there must be some important elements of the story that elude the most penetrating reader.
I don't remember anyone guessing this solution until maybe the end of issue six. Although, I do think that's partly because of the way Sue's death was portrayed, and because of Lorring's misdirection. But, this is a baffling mystery until the denouement, I thought.
10. The solution must seem inevitable once revealed. This is the least often emphasized element of a good mystery, but it is one of the important elements of all fiction. It is not enough merely to fool or elude or sidestep the reader; you must make him feel that he ought not to have been fooled and that the fooling was honorable.
Here, I think Meltzer fails. This goes back to the cheap manner of fooling the reader regarding Sue's death, but I don't think the fooling was honourable. I'm not sure how I'd feel without that factor.
11. It must not try to do everything at once. If it is a puzzle story operating in a rather cool, reasonable atmosphere, it cannot also be a violent adventure or a passionate romance. An atmosphere of terror destroys logical thinking; if the story is about the intricate psychological pressures that lead apparently ordinary people to commit murder, it cannot then switch to the cool analysis of the police investigator. The detective cannot be hero and menace at the same time; the murderer cannot be a tormented victim of circumstance and also a heavy.
This is one area where some would be tempted to say that Meltzer fails, because he does try to do a lot, but he doesn't mix elements that aren't appropriate. The closest he comes is having the old Leaguers erase the minds of criminals, alter Dr. Light's brain and mindwipe Batman--but, those actions are open to interpretation. I agree with them, others may not. Meltzer does try to do a lot, but he doesn't push the story beyond its limits.
12. It must punish the criminal in one way or another, not necessarily by operation of the law. Contrary to popular (and Johnston Office) belief, this requirement has nothing much to do with morality. It is a part of the logic of detection. If the detective fails to resolve the consequences of the crime, the story is an unresolved chord and leaves irritation behind it.
Lorring is locked away and has her loved spurned by her reason for everything she does. However, the way Lorring is punished conflicts with addenda #11, so Meltzer may not have succeed her after all...
Addenda
(Quick note: some of these are comments, rather than instructions like the above, but that leads to discussion nonetheless.)
1. The perfect detective story cannot be written. The type of mind which can evolve the perfect problem is not the type of mind that can produce the artistic job of writing. It would be nice to have Dashiell Hammett and Austin Freeman in the same book, but it just isn't possible. Hammett couldn't have the plodding patience and Freeman couldn't have the verve for narrative. They don't go together. Even a fair compromise such as Dorothy Sayers is less satisfying than the two types taken separately.
As I said above, Meltzer's strength is character and mood, not the creation of the perfect mystery. The mystery here has some serious flaws, but the story works despite them because it plays to Meltzer's strengths so well.
On the other hand, would fixing the problems with the mystery detract from character? Obviously, altering the portrayal of Sue's death wouldn't, but making the heroes as good of detectives as they're supposed to be would, because the mystery would have been solved on page 29 of the first issue. Granted, the story could have continued as a meditation on the dangers of families and superheroes, but it would have worked then only as a 64-page graphic novel at best. In order for the story to continue as he wants, Meltzer had to make the mystery flawed. It's a clear choice.
2. The most effective way to conceal a simple mystery is behind another mystery. This is litrary legerdemain. You do not fool the reader by hiding clues or faking character [ala] Christie but by making him solve the wrong problem.
Meltzer doesn't do this exactly, but he does use the old League stuff to distract the reader. By issue three, Sue's murder was pushed to the side in readers' minds, everyone so focused on what the League had done--and when Batman's mindwipe was revealed, the speculation and interest increased. It may not be another mystery exactly--although Meltzer does make it one since we see Batman struggling with Dr. Light along with the rest of the League in a flashback in issue three and his sudden appearance isn't addressed until issue six, which I'm certain caused speculation and wondering by readers.
3. It has been said that "nobody cares about the corpse." This is bunk. It is throwing away a valuable element. It is like saying the murder of your aunt means no more to you than the murder of an unknown man in an unknown part of a city you never visited.
Meltzer focuses on character and he makes you care about not just Sue Dibny, but Ralph, too. Same with Jack Drake and even Jean Lorring. He wants you to care about these people and want their killer(s) caught.
4. Flip dialogue is not wit.
Too true. I don't think Meltzer ever falls into that trap--except maybe any time a villain is on panel. They kind of attract flip, witless dialogue.
5. A mystery serial does not make a good mystery novel. The "curtains" depend for their effect on your not having the next chapter to read at once. In book form these curtains give the effect of a false suspense and tend to be merely irritating. The magazines have begun to find that out.
I have the trade paperback, but did read it in serial form, too. Meltzer really plays up the suspense element with the end of each issue, but the transition between issues six and seven is the only awkward one (excluding some narration that recaps events) with the repition of panels from the end of issue six at the beginning of issue seven. The rest of the time, events either pick up immediately following the last issue or begin with different characters, which works with the internal pacing the issues where a surprise often happened only to cut away for a scene or two before returning. I recall reading somewhere (maybe even in the bonus material at the end of the trade, which I skipped this time) that Meltzer turned in the entire series at once, not single script by single script, so that helped--as did his experience as a novelist where you learn that it's good to end chapters with little surprises or pieces of intrigue, but also how to work those into the larger narrative. It's about wanting to the reader to keep on reading, but not making it tedious. Meltzer does that well.
6. Love interest nearly always weakens a mystery story because it creates a type of suspense that is antagonistic and not complementary to the detective's struggle to solve the problem. The kind of love interest that works is the one that complicates the problem by adding to the detective's troubles but which at the same time you instinctively feel will not survive the story. A really good detective never gets married. He would lose his detachment, and this detachment is part of his charm.
Since there is no central detective, this one doesn't necessarily apply here. As well, the story itself is about loved ones, so it really doesn't apply. That said, Batman has no love interest here, so he is not distracted. I'm not sure about Dr. Mid-Nite. The fact that it took him a week to complete the autopsy suggests a girlfriend, I must say.
Although, is this rule why Ralph doesn't participate more? He has no objectivity, he's lost his sense of detachment?
7. The fact that love interest is played up in the big magazines and on the screen doesn't make it artistic. Women are supposed to be the target of magazine fiction and movies. The magazines are not interested in mystery writing as an art. They are not interested in any kind of writing as an art.
Um...
8. The hero of the mystery story is the detective. Everything hangs on his personality. If he hasn't one, you have very little. And you have very few really good mystery stories. Naturally.
Who is the detective? Who is the protagonist? I don't know. Is it just all of the heroes? There can be multiple protagonists, of course, but who are they here? Besides the mystery, I think this is the weakest area of the story. I especially think giving a narrative voice to the villains doesn't work at all. I think the same story could have been told by focusing on Green Arrow (who I pick because he is the only consistent voice in the story--and probably the strongest voice, too). The stuff he narrates is fantastic and are probably the best parts of the story, in my opinion.
9. The criminal cannot be the detective. This is an old rule and has once in a while been violated successfully, but it is sound as it ever was. For this reason: the detective by tradition and definition is the seeker of truth. He can't be that if he already knows the truth. There is an implied guarantee to the reader that the detective is on the level.
Not an issue here since there is no detective--or, at least, none of the detectives turn out to be the murderer.
10. The same remark applies to the story where the first-person narrator is the criminal. I should personally have to qualify this by saying that for me the first-person narration can always be accused of subtle dishonesty because of its appearance of candor and its ability to suppress the detective's ratiocination while giving a clear account of his words and acts. Which opens up the much larger question of what honesty really is in this context; is it not a matter of degree rather an absolute? I think it is and always will be. Regardless of the candor of the first-person narrative there comes a time when the detective has made up his mind and yet does not communicate this to the reader. He holds some of his thinking for the denouement or explanation. He tells the facts but not the reaction in his mind to those facts. Is this a permissible convention of deceit? It must be; otherwise the detective telling his own story could not have solved the problem in advance of the technical denouement. Once in a lifetime a story such as The Big Sleep holds almost nothing back; the denouement is an action which the reader meets as soon as the detective. The theorizing from that action follows immediately. There is only a momentary concealment of the fact that Marlowe loaded the gun with blanks when he gave it to Carmen down by the oil sump. But even this is tipped off to the reader when he says, "If she missed the can, which she was certain to do, she would probably hit the wheel. That would stop a small slug completely. However she wasn't going to hit even that." He doesn't say why, but the action follows so quickly that you don't feel any real concealment.
Meltezer uses a lot of first-person narration (14 different first-person narrators to be exact), but he does avoid using Jean Lorring as one. That said, I think this overuse of first-person narration both helps and hurts the story. It helps in creating that expansive feeling that these events affect everyone, but it also makes the story unfocused and kind of all over the place. This relates to the question the detective or of the protagonist(s). It's clear why Meltzer chose to tell the story this way, I just don't think it's an effective manner and should have been changed.
11. The murderer must not be a loony. The murderer is not a murderer unless he commits murder in the legal sense.
Jean Lorring is institutionalised and portrayed as insane. So, Meltzer violates this rule. I'm still not clear what drove her insane exactly, because it wouldn't be Palmer rejecting her. Was it Sue's death? When did she become insane exactly? It's rather vague, I find (I could be missing something obvious, of course).
12. There is, as has been said, no real possibility of absolute perfection [in writing a mystery story]. Why? For two main reasons, of which has been stated aboved in Addenda Note 1. The second is the attitude of the reader himself. Readers are of too many kinds and too many levels of culture. The puzzle addict, for instance, regards the story as a contest of wits between himself and the writer; if he guesses the solution, he has won, even though he could not document his guess or justify it by solid reasoning. There is something of this competitive spirit in all readers, but the reader in whom it predominates sees no value beyond the game of guessing the solution. There is the reader, again, whose whole interest is in sensation, sadism, cruelty, blood, and the element of death. Again there is some in all of us, but the reader in whom it predominates will care nothing for the so-called deductive story, however meticulous. A third class of reader is the worrier-about-the-characters; this reader doesn't care so much about the solution; what really gets her upset is the chance that the silly little heroine will get her neck twisted on the spiral staircase. Fourth, and most important, there is the intellectual literate reader who reads mysteries because they are almost the only kind of fiction that does not get too big for its boots. This reader savors style, characterization, plot twists, all the virtuosities of the writing much more than he bothers about the solution. You cannot satisfy all these readers completely. To do so involves contradictory elements. I, in the role of reader, almost never try to guess the solution to a mystery. I simply don't regard the contest between the writer and myself as important. To be frank I regard it as the amusement of an inferior type of mind.
And this is why the mystery itself doesn't necessarily matter that much. It's a catalyst for the true purpose of the story, which I think Meltzer aims at the fourth type of reader. Granted, the other three types will no doubt find some benefit here (especially the third class, which I can't help but see as the equivalent of the "fanboy" type of reader; the one who follows these characters primarily rather than writers). But, it's clear that Meltzer aims for a story that goes beyond just mystery, continuity and cheap thrills--or, is it? This story does rely heavily on continuity and the reader having a pre-existing attachment to these characters, so, perhaps, the third reader is the target here after all. I'm not sure and think arguments could be made for both. However, I do think the mystery/puzzle is not the primary focus of this story.
13. As has been suggested above, all fiction depends on some form of suspense. But the study of the mechanics of that extreme type called menace reveals the curious psychological duality of the mind of a reader or audience which makes it possible on the one hand to be terrified about what is hiding behind the door and at the same time to know that the heroine or leading lady is not going to be murdered once she is established as the heroine or leading lady. If the character played by Claudette Colbert is in awful danger, we also know absolutely that Miss Colbert is not going to be hurt for the simple reason that she is Miss Colbert. How does the audience's mind get upset by menace in view of this clear knowledge? Of the many possible reasons I suggest two. The reaction to visual images and sounds, or their evocation in descriptive writing, is independent of reasonableness. The primitive element of fear is never far from the surface of our thoughts; anything that calls to it can defeat reason for the time being. Hence menace makes its appeal to a very ancient and very irrational emotion. Few men are beyond its influence. The other reason I suggest is that in any intense kind of literary or other projection the part is greater than the whole. The scene before the eyes dominates the thought of the audience; the normal individual makes no attempt to reconcile it with the pattern of the story. He is swayed by what is in the actual scene. When you have finished the book, it may, not necessarily will, fall into focus as a whole and be remembered by its merit so considered; but for the time of reading, the chapter is the dominating factor. The vision of the emotional imagination is very short but also very intense.
Meltzer does place a great importance on each scene captivating the reader's attention. He knows how to write a scene so that it draws you in and Rags Morales's art helps with this. What's key here is that the quiet scenes do this just as well as the shocking, suspenseful ones. There's a rise and fall pattern throughout the story so it's not all just action, death and suspense, but it's always interesting and captivating.
Ultimately, I think Identity Crisis fulfills enough of Chandler's criteria to be considered a success. While the mystery itself is deeply flawed in its execution and lack of logic in some points, Meltzer obviously made a choice to emphasise character, preferring to use the murder mystery as a catalyst for the story of superheroes and their families. That's a valid choice and the story itself is engaging and works as a result.
I'm a big Raymond Chandler fan. So big that I'm one of those people who bought The Notebooks of Raymond Chandler, a handy little paperback containing odds and ends like his essay, "Twelve Notes on the Mystery Story." Well, it's not so much an essay as it is... a series of notes. Also included are 13 addenda, bringing the total number of notes up to 25. I figured it would be fun to take these notes and apply them to some comic book mystery stories and see how well they match up to Chandler's standards.Before I begin, I should note that I'm reprinting the notes in full rather than summarising them. Now, this is a total copyright breach and if those who hold the copyright want me to take down this post, I'm okay with that. I'm using Chandler's notes in full, because he says what he means better than I could. I began with the intention of summarising and quickly decided against it, because Chandler is clear and to the point often. In some spots, he goes on tangents, but they help, I think. Chandler's notes are in bold.
Also, my selection for this first post is Identity Crisis by Brad Meltzer. We all remember this book and since it is primarily a mystery story--and one of the better known and received ones in recent years--it seems like the logical starting point. I reread it for this post and enjoyed it quite a bit, but I'm warning you ahead of time that it doesn't quite make it as a mystery story according to Chandler.
My plan here is to go through Chandler's notes and apply each to Identity Crisis. Some notes are repetative or don't apply, but do allow for discussion nonetheless. I don't know how well this will work, so let's see. Should be fun.
Twelve Notes on the Mystery Story (Revised April 18, 1948)
1. It must be credibly motivated, both as to the original situation and the denouement; it must consist of the plausible actions of plausible people in plausible circumstances, it being remembered that plausibility is largely a matter of style. This requirement rules out most trick endings and a great many "closed circle" stories in which the least likely character is forcibly made over into the criminal, without convincing anybody. It also rules out such elaborate mises-en-scene as Christie's Murder in a Calais Coach, where the whole setup for the crime requires such a fluky set of happenings that it could never seem real.
So, do we buy Jean Lorring as the killer? Her motivation is to attack Sue Dibny and not kill her, just scare the superhero community enough that her ex-husband, Ray Palmer (aka the Atom) will want to get back together with her. Meltzer emphasises that the families of superheroes are the ones to benefit, so there's a certain logic there. I'll give credible motivation of Lorring's actions here.
But, is this a story "in which the least likely character is forcibly made over into the criminal, without convincing anybody"? I think Meltzer justifies Lorring's actions within the context of the story, but if you knew the character ahead of time, it could be hard to believe. Little explanation is given as to why she didn't just call up Ray and ask him to dinner. There's no set-up for her turn, so while the motivation is plausible, it's only that way because we don't know anything about her otherwise. Since this does take place within a larger world, I don't think Meltzer succeeded here.
2. It must be technically sound as to the methods of murder and detection. No fantastic poisons or improper effects from poison such as death from nonfatal doses, etc. No use of silencers on revolvers (they won't work) or snakes climbing bellropes ("The Speckled Band"). Such things at once destroy the foundation of the story. If the detective is a trained policeman, he must act like one, and have the mental and physical equipment that go with the job. If he is a private investigator or amateur, he must at least know enough about police methods not to make an ass of himself. When a policeman is made out to be a fool, as he always was on the Sherlock Holmes stories, this not only depreciates the accomplishment of the detective but it makes the reader doubt the author's knowledge of his own field. Conan Doyle and Poe were primitives in this art and stand in relation to the best modern writers as Giotto does to da Vinci. They did things which are no longer permissible and exposed ignorances that are no longer tolerated. Also, police art, itself, was rudimentary in their time. "The Purloined Letter" would not fool a modern cop for four minutes. Conan Doyle showed no knowledge whatever of the organization of Scotland Yard's men. Christie commits the same stupidities in our time, but that doesn't make them right. Contrast Austin Freeman, who wrote a story about a forged fingerprint ten years before police method realized such things could be done.
Okay, obviously the "fantastic poisons" and such don't apply here since this a story that takes place solidly within the realm of the fantastic. We'll ignore that part of this note. This note does raise a few problems with the story, though. The first is, who is the detective? This is a narrative problem I've had with Identity Crisis since the first time I've read it as I think it's too expansive in the number of voices it includes. I understand that Meltzer was going for an expansive story, but it makes the mystery element much weaker. Green Arrow is the only consistent voice throughout the entire story in that his first-person narration shows up in every issue. But, Green Arrow also isn't the detective since the mystery is solved, ultimately, by Batman, Dr. Mid-Nite, and Ray Palmer. Since there are so many people involved, it's difficult to get behind any of them and it also allows for various methods of detection to ultimately solve the mystery--leaving the reader in the cold. (Actually, Elongated Man/Ralph Dibny's detective skills are so emphasised in the first issue that you'd think he would play a bigger role, but he doesn't play an active role after issue three. After that, he appears in flashbacks and single panels that show he's still grieving--except for the end of issue seven. Odd, don't you think?)
The second problem is that the methods of detection aren't sound. Jean Lorring gains access to the Dibny house by phone and then "grows" to regular size. At one point, Mister Miracle notes that there are 17 methods of gaining entry to the house and they didn't check the phone records? Really? They didn't do the most basic of police procedures? Or, they, somehow, didn't find any physical evidence despite Lorring standing there at full size with a flamethrower? These are such basic things that our detectives--who are supposedly better than the police--miss. A pretty big flaw in the story, I think.
I also have to wonder why the autopsy takes so long. It takes Dr. Mid-Nite at least a week, it seems, to complete it from when he began. Does that seem a bit long to anyone else?
3. It must be honest with the reader. This is always said, but the implications are not realized. Important facts not only must not be concealed, they must not be distorted by false emphasis. Unimportant facts must not be projected in such a way as to make them portentous. (This creation of red herrings and false menace out of trick camera work and mood shots if the typical Hollywood mystery picture cheat.) Inferences from the facts are the detective's stock in trade; but he should disclose enough to keep the reader's mind working. It is arguable, although not certain, that inferences arising from special knowledge (e.g., Dr. Thorndyke) are a bit of a cheat, because the basic theory of all good mystery writing is that at some stage not too late in the story the reader did have the materials to solve the problem. If specal scientific knowledge was necessary to interpret the facts, the reader did not have the solution unless he had the special knowledge. It may have been Austin Freeman's feeling about this that led him to the invention of the inverted detective story, in which the reader knows the solution from the beginning and takes his pleasure from watching the detective trace it out a step at a time.
The story isn't honest with the reader regarding the death of Sue Dibny. Meltzer and artist Rags Morales give us a panel in issue one where Sue hears a noise downstairs and this is obviously a red herring. Those few panels exist only to throw the reader off and are cheap tricks.
Some would jump on the misdirection when Lorring is almost killed, but the information we get there is from her, so it's misleading, but for the characters as well. The portrayal of Sue's death is seen only by the readers, so puposeful misdirection only affects the readers. It's a cheat that hurts the resolution of the mystery since the reader will then look back and see that the authors lied.
4. It must be realistic as to character, setting, and atmosphere. It must be about real people in the real world. Very few mystery writers have any talent for character work, but that doesn't mean it is not necessary. It makes the difference between the story you reread and remember and the one you skim through and almost instantly forget. Those like Valentine Williams who say the problem overrides everything are merely trying to cover up their own inability to create character.
Here, Meltzer shines. He does his best to make sure this story is rooted in realistic characters. I've read this story three times now and it's been good each time, because Meltzer does such good character work. Actually, I think his devotion to that element of the writing hurts the mystery--and it's almost certainly a choice he made while writing. The story is so expansive and deals with so many characters that it's more a character piece than a mystery, honestly. And, as Chandler himself will point out, there's nothing wrong with that. However, it does leave the story open to certain criticisms--but what story doesn't?
5. It must have a sound story value apart from the mystery element; i.e., the investigation itself must be an adventure worth reading.
Again, the murder of Sue Dibny kicks things off, but the story becomes so much more with the villains, the exploration of what it's like for the families of superheroes, the mind-wiping of villains... Meltzer created a story that works very well outside of the mystery.
6. To achieve this it must have some form of suspense, even if only intellectual. This does not mean menace and especially it does not mean that the detective must be menaced by grave personal danger. This last is a trend and like all trends will exhaust itself by overimitation. Nor need the reader be kept hanging on the edge of his chair. The overplotted story can be dull too; too much shock may result in numbness to shock. But there must be conflict, physical, ethical or emotional, and there must be some element of danger in the broadest sense of the word.
This is a very nuanced "note," but it's one that I think Meltzer pulls off. There is action and threat of death, but there's also the suspense of the secret the old Leaguers share, of Batman finding out what they did to him, of the whole superhero community possibly torn apart... there's also the intellectual suspense of how Wally will handle it, how he'll come to terms with what was done--or, even how Green Arrow will defend it despite not agreeing with it at the time. Again, Meltzer uses the murder mystery as the catalyst for a lot more.
7. It must have color, lift, and a reasonable amount of dash. It takes an awful lot of technical adroitness to compensate for a dull style, although it has been done, especially in England.
Yeah, I'd say the story has all of these things. While I didn't like what I read of his Justice League of America run, Meltzer has his own style and he uses it here. His overuse of narrative captions, for instance, is very much part of his style as he wants to show us the inside of a lot of characters' heads. Also, his pacing is very good--that's more technique than style, but it's a stylised pacing that works with the suspense and mystery elements.
8. It must have enough essential simplicity to be explained easily when the time comes. (This is possibly the most often violated of all the rules). The ideal denouement is one in which everything is revealed in a flash of action. This is rare because ideas that good are always rare. The explanation need not be very short (except on the screen), and often it cannot be short; but it must be interesting in itself, it must be something the reader is anxious to hear, and not a new story with a new set of characters, dragged in to justify an overcomplicated plot. Above all the explanation must not be merely a long-winded assembling of minute circumstances which no ordinary reader could possibly be expected to remember. To make the solution dependent on this is a kind of unfairness, since here again the reader did not have the solution within his grasp, in any practical sense. To expect him to remember a thousand trivialities and from them to select that three that are decisive is as unfair as to expect him to have a profound knowledge of chemistry, metallurgy, or the mating habits of the Patagonian anteater.
The denouement is simple: Jean Lorring wanted to attack Sue to scare superheroes, including her ex-husband, into becoming more protective of their loved ones. To keep up the rouse and throw suspicion elsewhere, she fakes an attempt on her life and hires a supervillain to attack Jack Drake--but sends him a gun to make sure the villain fails.
9. It must baffle a reasonably intelligent reader. This opens up a very difficult question. Some of the best detective stories ever written (those of Austin Freeman, for example) seldom baffle an intelligent reader to the end. But the reader does not guess the complete solution and could not himself have made a logical demonstration of it. Since readers are of many minds, some will guess a cleverly hidden murder and some will be fooled by the most transparent plot. (Could the "Red-Headed League" ever really fool a modern reader?) It is not necessary or even possible to fool to the hilt the real aficionado of mystery fiction. A mystery story that consistently did that and was honest would be unintelligible to the average fan; he simply would not know what the story was all about. But there must be some important elements of the story that elude the most penetrating reader.
I don't remember anyone guessing this solution until maybe the end of issue six. Although, I do think that's partly because of the way Sue's death was portrayed, and because of Lorring's misdirection. But, this is a baffling mystery until the denouement, I thought.
10. The solution must seem inevitable once revealed. This is the least often emphasized element of a good mystery, but it is one of the important elements of all fiction. It is not enough merely to fool or elude or sidestep the reader; you must make him feel that he ought not to have been fooled and that the fooling was honorable.
Here, I think Meltzer fails. This goes back to the cheap manner of fooling the reader regarding Sue's death, but I don't think the fooling was honourable. I'm not sure how I'd feel without that factor.
11. It must not try to do everything at once. If it is a puzzle story operating in a rather cool, reasonable atmosphere, it cannot also be a violent adventure or a passionate romance. An atmosphere of terror destroys logical thinking; if the story is about the intricate psychological pressures that lead apparently ordinary people to commit murder, it cannot then switch to the cool analysis of the police investigator. The detective cannot be hero and menace at the same time; the murderer cannot be a tormented victim of circumstance and also a heavy.
This is one area where some would be tempted to say that Meltzer fails, because he does try to do a lot, but he doesn't mix elements that aren't appropriate. The closest he comes is having the old Leaguers erase the minds of criminals, alter Dr. Light's brain and mindwipe Batman--but, those actions are open to interpretation. I agree with them, others may not. Meltzer does try to do a lot, but he doesn't push the story beyond its limits.
12. It must punish the criminal in one way or another, not necessarily by operation of the law. Contrary to popular (and Johnston Office) belief, this requirement has nothing much to do with morality. It is a part of the logic of detection. If the detective fails to resolve the consequences of the crime, the story is an unresolved chord and leaves irritation behind it.
Lorring is locked away and has her loved spurned by her reason for everything she does. However, the way Lorring is punished conflicts with addenda #11, so Meltzer may not have succeed her after all...
Addenda
(Quick note: some of these are comments, rather than instructions like the above, but that leads to discussion nonetheless.)
1. The perfect detective story cannot be written. The type of mind which can evolve the perfect problem is not the type of mind that can produce the artistic job of writing. It would be nice to have Dashiell Hammett and Austin Freeman in the same book, but it just isn't possible. Hammett couldn't have the plodding patience and Freeman couldn't have the verve for narrative. They don't go together. Even a fair compromise such as Dorothy Sayers is less satisfying than the two types taken separately.
As I said above, Meltzer's strength is character and mood, not the creation of the perfect mystery. The mystery here has some serious flaws, but the story works despite them because it plays to Meltzer's strengths so well.
On the other hand, would fixing the problems with the mystery detract from character? Obviously, altering the portrayal of Sue's death wouldn't, but making the heroes as good of detectives as they're supposed to be would, because the mystery would have been solved on page 29 of the first issue. Granted, the story could have continued as a meditation on the dangers of families and superheroes, but it would have worked then only as a 64-page graphic novel at best. In order for the story to continue as he wants, Meltzer had to make the mystery flawed. It's a clear choice.
2. The most effective way to conceal a simple mystery is behind another mystery. This is litrary legerdemain. You do not fool the reader by hiding clues or faking character [ala] Christie but by making him solve the wrong problem.
Meltzer doesn't do this exactly, but he does use the old League stuff to distract the reader. By issue three, Sue's murder was pushed to the side in readers' minds, everyone so focused on what the League had done--and when Batman's mindwipe was revealed, the speculation and interest increased. It may not be another mystery exactly--although Meltzer does make it one since we see Batman struggling with Dr. Light along with the rest of the League in a flashback in issue three and his sudden appearance isn't addressed until issue six, which I'm certain caused speculation and wondering by readers.
3. It has been said that "nobody cares about the corpse." This is bunk. It is throwing away a valuable element. It is like saying the murder of your aunt means no more to you than the murder of an unknown man in an unknown part of a city you never visited.
Meltzer focuses on character and he makes you care about not just Sue Dibny, but Ralph, too. Same with Jack Drake and even Jean Lorring. He wants you to care about these people and want their killer(s) caught.
4. Flip dialogue is not wit.
Too true. I don't think Meltzer ever falls into that trap--except maybe any time a villain is on panel. They kind of attract flip, witless dialogue.
5. A mystery serial does not make a good mystery novel. The "curtains" depend for their effect on your not having the next chapter to read at once. In book form these curtains give the effect of a false suspense and tend to be merely irritating. The magazines have begun to find that out.
I have the trade paperback, but did read it in serial form, too. Meltzer really plays up the suspense element with the end of each issue, but the transition between issues six and seven is the only awkward one (excluding some narration that recaps events) with the repition of panels from the end of issue six at the beginning of issue seven. The rest of the time, events either pick up immediately following the last issue or begin with different characters, which works with the internal pacing the issues where a surprise often happened only to cut away for a scene or two before returning. I recall reading somewhere (maybe even in the bonus material at the end of the trade, which I skipped this time) that Meltzer turned in the entire series at once, not single script by single script, so that helped--as did his experience as a novelist where you learn that it's good to end chapters with little surprises or pieces of intrigue, but also how to work those into the larger narrative. It's about wanting to the reader to keep on reading, but not making it tedious. Meltzer does that well.
6. Love interest nearly always weakens a mystery story because it creates a type of suspense that is antagonistic and not complementary to the detective's struggle to solve the problem. The kind of love interest that works is the one that complicates the problem by adding to the detective's troubles but which at the same time you instinctively feel will not survive the story. A really good detective never gets married. He would lose his detachment, and this detachment is part of his charm.
Since there is no central detective, this one doesn't necessarily apply here. As well, the story itself is about loved ones, so it really doesn't apply. That said, Batman has no love interest here, so he is not distracted. I'm not sure about Dr. Mid-Nite. The fact that it took him a week to complete the autopsy suggests a girlfriend, I must say.
Although, is this rule why Ralph doesn't participate more? He has no objectivity, he's lost his sense of detachment?
7. The fact that love interest is played up in the big magazines and on the screen doesn't make it artistic. Women are supposed to be the target of magazine fiction and movies. The magazines are not interested in mystery writing as an art. They are not interested in any kind of writing as an art.
Um...
8. The hero of the mystery story is the detective. Everything hangs on his personality. If he hasn't one, you have very little. And you have very few really good mystery stories. Naturally.
Who is the detective? Who is the protagonist? I don't know. Is it just all of the heroes? There can be multiple protagonists, of course, but who are they here? Besides the mystery, I think this is the weakest area of the story. I especially think giving a narrative voice to the villains doesn't work at all. I think the same story could have been told by focusing on Green Arrow (who I pick because he is the only consistent voice in the story--and probably the strongest voice, too). The stuff he narrates is fantastic and are probably the best parts of the story, in my opinion.
9. The criminal cannot be the detective. This is an old rule and has once in a while been violated successfully, but it is sound as it ever was. For this reason: the detective by tradition and definition is the seeker of truth. He can't be that if he already knows the truth. There is an implied guarantee to the reader that the detective is on the level.
Not an issue here since there is no detective--or, at least, none of the detectives turn out to be the murderer.
10. The same remark applies to the story where the first-person narrator is the criminal. I should personally have to qualify this by saying that for me the first-person narration can always be accused of subtle dishonesty because of its appearance of candor and its ability to suppress the detective's ratiocination while giving a clear account of his words and acts. Which opens up the much larger question of what honesty really is in this context; is it not a matter of degree rather an absolute? I think it is and always will be. Regardless of the candor of the first-person narrative there comes a time when the detective has made up his mind and yet does not communicate this to the reader. He holds some of his thinking for the denouement or explanation. He tells the facts but not the reaction in his mind to those facts. Is this a permissible convention of deceit? It must be; otherwise the detective telling his own story could not have solved the problem in advance of the technical denouement. Once in a lifetime a story such as The Big Sleep holds almost nothing back; the denouement is an action which the reader meets as soon as the detective. The theorizing from that action follows immediately. There is only a momentary concealment of the fact that Marlowe loaded the gun with blanks when he gave it to Carmen down by the oil sump. But even this is tipped off to the reader when he says, "If she missed the can, which she was certain to do, she would probably hit the wheel. That would stop a small slug completely. However she wasn't going to hit even that." He doesn't say why, but the action follows so quickly that you don't feel any real concealment.
Meltezer uses a lot of first-person narration (14 different first-person narrators to be exact), but he does avoid using Jean Lorring as one. That said, I think this overuse of first-person narration both helps and hurts the story. It helps in creating that expansive feeling that these events affect everyone, but it also makes the story unfocused and kind of all over the place. This relates to the question the detective or of the protagonist(s). It's clear why Meltzer chose to tell the story this way, I just don't think it's an effective manner and should have been changed.
11. The murderer must not be a loony. The murderer is not a murderer unless he commits murder in the legal sense.
Jean Lorring is institutionalised and portrayed as insane. So, Meltzer violates this rule. I'm still not clear what drove her insane exactly, because it wouldn't be Palmer rejecting her. Was it Sue's death? When did she become insane exactly? It's rather vague, I find (I could be missing something obvious, of course).
12. There is, as has been said, no real possibility of absolute perfection [in writing a mystery story]. Why? For two main reasons, of which has been stated aboved in Addenda Note 1. The second is the attitude of the reader himself. Readers are of too many kinds and too many levels of culture. The puzzle addict, for instance, regards the story as a contest of wits between himself and the writer; if he guesses the solution, he has won, even though he could not document his guess or justify it by solid reasoning. There is something of this competitive spirit in all readers, but the reader in whom it predominates sees no value beyond the game of guessing the solution. There is the reader, again, whose whole interest is in sensation, sadism, cruelty, blood, and the element of death. Again there is some in all of us, but the reader in whom it predominates will care nothing for the so-called deductive story, however meticulous. A third class of reader is the worrier-about-the-characters; this reader doesn't care so much about the solution; what really gets her upset is the chance that the silly little heroine will get her neck twisted on the spiral staircase. Fourth, and most important, there is the intellectual literate reader who reads mysteries because they are almost the only kind of fiction that does not get too big for its boots. This reader savors style, characterization, plot twists, all the virtuosities of the writing much more than he bothers about the solution. You cannot satisfy all these readers completely. To do so involves contradictory elements. I, in the role of reader, almost never try to guess the solution to a mystery. I simply don't regard the contest between the writer and myself as important. To be frank I regard it as the amusement of an inferior type of mind.
And this is why the mystery itself doesn't necessarily matter that much. It's a catalyst for the true purpose of the story, which I think Meltzer aims at the fourth type of reader. Granted, the other three types will no doubt find some benefit here (especially the third class, which I can't help but see as the equivalent of the "fanboy" type of reader; the one who follows these characters primarily rather than writers). But, it's clear that Meltzer aims for a story that goes beyond just mystery, continuity and cheap thrills--or, is it? This story does rely heavily on continuity and the reader having a pre-existing attachment to these characters, so, perhaps, the third reader is the target here after all. I'm not sure and think arguments could be made for both. However, I do think the mystery/puzzle is not the primary focus of this story.
13. As has been suggested above, all fiction depends on some form of suspense. But the study of the mechanics of that extreme type called menace reveals the curious psychological duality of the mind of a reader or audience which makes it possible on the one hand to be terrified about what is hiding behind the door and at the same time to know that the heroine or leading lady is not going to be murdered once she is established as the heroine or leading lady. If the character played by Claudette Colbert is in awful danger, we also know absolutely that Miss Colbert is not going to be hurt for the simple reason that she is Miss Colbert. How does the audience's mind get upset by menace in view of this clear knowledge? Of the many possible reasons I suggest two. The reaction to visual images and sounds, or their evocation in descriptive writing, is independent of reasonableness. The primitive element of fear is never far from the surface of our thoughts; anything that calls to it can defeat reason for the time being. Hence menace makes its appeal to a very ancient and very irrational emotion. Few men are beyond its influence. The other reason I suggest is that in any intense kind of literary or other projection the part is greater than the whole. The scene before the eyes dominates the thought of the audience; the normal individual makes no attempt to reconcile it with the pattern of the story. He is swayed by what is in the actual scene. When you have finished the book, it may, not necessarily will, fall into focus as a whole and be remembered by its merit so considered; but for the time of reading, the chapter is the dominating factor. The vision of the emotional imagination is very short but also very intense.
Meltzer does place a great importance on each scene captivating the reader's attention. He knows how to write a scene so that it draws you in and Rags Morales's art helps with this. What's key here is that the quiet scenes do this just as well as the shocking, suspenseful ones. There's a rise and fall pattern throughout the story so it's not all just action, death and suspense, but it's always interesting and captivating.
Ultimately, I think Identity Crisis fulfills enough of Chandler's criteria to be considered a success. While the mystery itself is deeply flawed in its execution and lack of logic in some points, Meltzer obviously made a choice to emphasise character, preferring to use the murder mystery as a catalyst for the story of superheroes and their families. That's a valid choice and the story itself is engaging and works as a result.
Monday, July 23, 2007
Q&A Part Sixteen
Steve asks: who's a "mainstream" writer (novelist, screenwriter) who has recently come to comics that you wish would bugger on off back from whence he/she came, and who's a comics writer that has flirted with other formats that you wish would stay in comics exclusively? (and why in both cases, of course?)
1. I've yet to really enjoy anything Brad Meltzer's written, so I guess I'd say him for the first part. Although does he count as recent? I can't say I've read a lot of work by "mainstream" writers in comics. They tend to work on books that don't look interesting to me. As for Meltzer's work, I think the thing that annoys me the most is the narrative inconsistency: issues will have several narrators for no reason at all (I discussed this in-depth in my review of Identity Crisis). And I think that annoys me more for him than it would others because he's a novelist and you would expect him to understand narration by this point. It's amazingly sloppy and amateurish the way he does it. There's often no reason (other than to attempt "characterisation") and comes off like he's writing the script and just goes "Oh, I think I'll have Superman narrate three panels!" I've never seen anything quite like it.
2. Grant Morrison. I've yet to really experience anything non-comic of his and I know he's won an award or two for his playwriting, but the motherfucker was born to write comics and time writing other stuff just seems like a waste. He lives and breathes comics as a writer in ways no one else does (no, not even Alan Moore--although, he'd be a close second for me). So, yeah, I think he'd be best served by sticking with comics exclusively. Now, I could change my tune about that when his novel eventually comes out or I read his plays.
Steve: you've recommended the odd "Showcase" reprint volume from DC to me from time to time. Which volume have you enjoyed the most and why should people read this reprint series? What is the value of these stories that seem antiquated now and share very little in common stylistically with modern comics?
1. I've yet to really enjoy anything Brad Meltzer's written, so I guess I'd say him for the first part. Although does he count as recent? I can't say I've read a lot of work by "mainstream" writers in comics. They tend to work on books that don't look interesting to me. As for Meltzer's work, I think the thing that annoys me the most is the narrative inconsistency: issues will have several narrators for no reason at all (I discussed this in-depth in my review of Identity Crisis). And I think that annoys me more for him than it would others because he's a novelist and you would expect him to understand narration by this point. It's amazingly sloppy and amateurish the way he does it. There's often no reason (other than to attempt "characterisation") and comes off like he's writing the script and just goes "Oh, I think I'll have Superman narrate three panels!" I've never seen anything quite like it.
2. Grant Morrison. I've yet to really experience anything non-comic of his and I know he's won an award or two for his playwriting, but the motherfucker was born to write comics and time writing other stuff just seems like a waste. He lives and breathes comics as a writer in ways no one else does (no, not even Alan Moore--although, he'd be a close second for me). So, yeah, I think he'd be best served by sticking with comics exclusively. Now, I could change my tune about that when his novel eventually comes out or I read his plays.
Steve: you've recommended the odd "Showcase" reprint volume from DC to me from time to time. Which volume have you enjoyed the most and why should people read this reprint series? What is the value of these stories that seem antiquated now and share very little in common stylistically with modern comics?
Thursday, October 12, 2006
Not-So-Random Reading: Identity Crisis
Picked up the trade edition of Identity Crisis today and figured it would be a good book to discuss here. I knew last week I would get it today. I was actually going to pick it up last week, but since the bookstore had both volumes if Authority: Revolution, I didn't want to take my chances that both volumes would still be there this week.
I read Identity Crisis when it first came out since my dad was buying it. Can't say that it impressed me at the time. I didn't hate it, but I didn't like it either. Mostly, it made me just sort of shrug in apathy--except for the Batman mindwipe thing, which annoyed me a lot (but I'll discuss that in a few moments). But, reading a story like this when it comes out in serial form isn't the same as reading it in one sitting. It was obviously designed to be read in a single sitting (or something approximating one, similar to a novel--not spread over seven months--if it came out on time, which I can't remember if it did the entire way through).
I will say this: the first issue really got me this time. It is engaging on both a plot/story level and an emotional one. You feel for Ralph. It's obvious what's coming--and Meltzer is self-conscious about it in Ralph's narration--but even so, he puts it in a solid emotional context.
The only downside, really, of that first issue is the art because Rags Morales draws the dumbest-looking eyes I've ever seen. Throughout the entire book, I was constantly distracted by goofy, way too big eyes. Goddamn, I hate them.
I don't know where the story lost me, but it was somewhere in issue two or three. Probably when the focus shifted to the villains. Took me right out of the story. In the larger structure of the story, I can see why Meltzer did it, but I don't think it works. In a story about family and superheroes, giving the other side a voice like that kills the point. It doesn't matter if you're trying to show that they have the same concerns (as in the Captain Boomerang subplot) because, as is pointed out several times, the villains would use the heroes' families to hurt them, while the heroes wouldn't do that.
The narration throughout, actually, posed a problem for me. The only real constant voice we get is Green Arrow's plus whichever voice is convenient to the story. Here's a quick breakdown of narrators:
Issue one: Ralph, Superman, Nightwing, Green Arrow, Bolt, Sue, Robin, Black Lightning, and the Atom. Plus, the omniscient voice that tells us the where, when and who of the scene.
Issue two: the Atom, Green Arrow, Merlyn, Dr. Mid-Nite, and the omniscient voice.
Issue three: Green Arrow, Robin, and the omniscient voice.
Issue four: the Atom, Green Arrow, Batman, Lois Lane, and the omniscient voice.
Issue five: Green Arrow, the Atom, either Captain Boomerang or his son (it isn't clear as there are only two captions with this voice, and either could be thinking it), Robin, and the omniscient voice.
Issue six: Batman, Green Arrow, and the omniscient voice.
Issue seven: the Atom, Green Arrow, Superman, and the omniscient voice.
As a whole story, it comes across as fragmented and uneven. Perhaps, as individual issues, it isn't as jarring--I certainly didn't notice it when I read it as a serial. This time, though, it was painfully obvious. As the list shows, certain narrators showed up a lot, especially Green Arrow. In fact, Green Arrow's narration is the only one that rarely lasted for more than a page or two. Most shifts in narration only lasted for a page or two (or, in the case of the Captain Boomerang/his son, one panel).
This problem stems from the fact that Meltzer tries too hard to make it a universal, affecting everyone story when it isn't that kind of story. Okay, it is in the sense that it does affect everyone, but those viewpoints are often showed through Green Arrow's narration--so why bother with the others? Meltzer seems to realise this after the first Dr. Mid-Nite narration where he begins the autopsy, because the next time we see him, Mr. Terrific is there so there's someone he can talk to instead of using first-person narration. I'm certain most of the other excess narrators could have been excised, focusing the story more and giving it a consistent voice.
While I'm on stuff that bothered me: how did the heroes not check the Dibnys' phone records? Mister Miracle says, after Jean (Atom's ex-wife) is "attacked," that there are seventeen ways to get past the defences these houses have and I'm certain he knows the phone is one. Shit, how many episodes of Law & Order include checking phone records? Um, like all of them (probably not all, but a very large majority). "Shit, she got a call from the Atom's ex-wife right before dying. Maybe we shoul check that out."
Actually, while checking on the murder just now, I'm confused how it actually happened. In the first issue, Sue is talking to Alfred (Batman's butler) on the phone, hangs up, hears a noise elsewhere in the house and then later we see her attacked and burned--and had apparently called for help using the JLA signalling device. And then, in the final issue, we see that Jean got into Sue's brain through the phone (so what was the noise Sue heard in the house?), causing a blockage--which, strangely enough, still gives Sue enough time to signal for help somehow. That, and the fact that the various showings of the murder have conflicting ideas. First, she's seemingly thrown onto a table, but then it's because her brain is all fucked up (with the phone on the table exactly as she left it in the first issue), but then she's on her knees convulsing because her brain is all fucked up (right after she answered the phone and let Jean into her brain, which apparently fucks her up immediately--so how did she place the phone down calmly on the table?).
Maybe it works, but I'm not seeing it.
Now, for the Batman problem. When I first read the series, I didn't believe Batman would give a fuck about Dr. Lite and the League messing with his brain. To me, Batman has one line: murder. He won't kill a bad guy, but he'll do anything and everything else. But, Green Arrow says something that I missed before (and a friend I debated the issue with hinted at, but I dismissed--so I was wrong): "Bruce would never stand for it. Not without his say-so." A good line that invalidates my argument. Batman doesn't care, he's just an asshole control freak. Fair enough.
For the most part, the story was good. I especially enjoyed the fight with Deathstroke in issue three (although, why didn't Green Arrow just stab Deathstroke in his working eye and, you know, get rid of a villain/assassin--I know, because that would be like killing him off, in a way, and you can't do that--except to minor, supporting characters like Sue Dibny and Jack Drake). The mystery was compelling and did make sense, with a few lines and panels early on that seem more ominous if you know Jean is the killer already.
But, shit, the narration (which, even though I don't like the technique Meltzer uses, is always well-written), goofy eyes and the murder itself bugged the fuck out of me. Definitely enjoyed it more than the first time I read it, though, and would recommend picking it up.
I read Identity Crisis when it first came out since my dad was buying it. Can't say that it impressed me at the time. I didn't hate it, but I didn't like it either. Mostly, it made me just sort of shrug in apathy--except for the Batman mindwipe thing, which annoyed me a lot (but I'll discuss that in a few moments). But, reading a story like this when it comes out in serial form isn't the same as reading it in one sitting. It was obviously designed to be read in a single sitting (or something approximating one, similar to a novel--not spread over seven months--if it came out on time, which I can't remember if it did the entire way through).
I will say this: the first issue really got me this time. It is engaging on both a plot/story level and an emotional one. You feel for Ralph. It's obvious what's coming--and Meltzer is self-conscious about it in Ralph's narration--but even so, he puts it in a solid emotional context.
The only downside, really, of that first issue is the art because Rags Morales draws the dumbest-looking eyes I've ever seen. Throughout the entire book, I was constantly distracted by goofy, way too big eyes. Goddamn, I hate them.
I don't know where the story lost me, but it was somewhere in issue two or three. Probably when the focus shifted to the villains. Took me right out of the story. In the larger structure of the story, I can see why Meltzer did it, but I don't think it works. In a story about family and superheroes, giving the other side a voice like that kills the point. It doesn't matter if you're trying to show that they have the same concerns (as in the Captain Boomerang subplot) because, as is pointed out several times, the villains would use the heroes' families to hurt them, while the heroes wouldn't do that.
The narration throughout, actually, posed a problem for me. The only real constant voice we get is Green Arrow's plus whichever voice is convenient to the story. Here's a quick breakdown of narrators:
Issue one: Ralph, Superman, Nightwing, Green Arrow, Bolt, Sue, Robin, Black Lightning, and the Atom. Plus, the omniscient voice that tells us the where, when and who of the scene.
Issue two: the Atom, Green Arrow, Merlyn, Dr. Mid-Nite, and the omniscient voice.
Issue three: Green Arrow, Robin, and the omniscient voice.
Issue four: the Atom, Green Arrow, Batman, Lois Lane, and the omniscient voice.
Issue five: Green Arrow, the Atom, either Captain Boomerang or his son (it isn't clear as there are only two captions with this voice, and either could be thinking it), Robin, and the omniscient voice.
Issue six: Batman, Green Arrow, and the omniscient voice.
Issue seven: the Atom, Green Arrow, Superman, and the omniscient voice.
As a whole story, it comes across as fragmented and uneven. Perhaps, as individual issues, it isn't as jarring--I certainly didn't notice it when I read it as a serial. This time, though, it was painfully obvious. As the list shows, certain narrators showed up a lot, especially Green Arrow. In fact, Green Arrow's narration is the only one that rarely lasted for more than a page or two. Most shifts in narration only lasted for a page or two (or, in the case of the Captain Boomerang/his son, one panel).
This problem stems from the fact that Meltzer tries too hard to make it a universal, affecting everyone story when it isn't that kind of story. Okay, it is in the sense that it does affect everyone, but those viewpoints are often showed through Green Arrow's narration--so why bother with the others? Meltzer seems to realise this after the first Dr. Mid-Nite narration where he begins the autopsy, because the next time we see him, Mr. Terrific is there so there's someone he can talk to instead of using first-person narration. I'm certain most of the other excess narrators could have been excised, focusing the story more and giving it a consistent voice.
While I'm on stuff that bothered me: how did the heroes not check the Dibnys' phone records? Mister Miracle says, after Jean (Atom's ex-wife) is "attacked," that there are seventeen ways to get past the defences these houses have and I'm certain he knows the phone is one. Shit, how many episodes of Law & Order include checking phone records? Um, like all of them (probably not all, but a very large majority). "Shit, she got a call from the Atom's ex-wife right before dying. Maybe we shoul check that out."
Actually, while checking on the murder just now, I'm confused how it actually happened. In the first issue, Sue is talking to Alfred (Batman's butler) on the phone, hangs up, hears a noise elsewhere in the house and then later we see her attacked and burned--and had apparently called for help using the JLA signalling device. And then, in the final issue, we see that Jean got into Sue's brain through the phone (so what was the noise Sue heard in the house?), causing a blockage--which, strangely enough, still gives Sue enough time to signal for help somehow. That, and the fact that the various showings of the murder have conflicting ideas. First, she's seemingly thrown onto a table, but then it's because her brain is all fucked up (with the phone on the table exactly as she left it in the first issue), but then she's on her knees convulsing because her brain is all fucked up (right after she answered the phone and let Jean into her brain, which apparently fucks her up immediately--so how did she place the phone down calmly on the table?).
Maybe it works, but I'm not seeing it.
Now, for the Batman problem. When I first read the series, I didn't believe Batman would give a fuck about Dr. Lite and the League messing with his brain. To me, Batman has one line: murder. He won't kill a bad guy, but he'll do anything and everything else. But, Green Arrow says something that I missed before (and a friend I debated the issue with hinted at, but I dismissed--so I was wrong): "Bruce would never stand for it. Not without his say-so." A good line that invalidates my argument. Batman doesn't care, he's just an asshole control freak. Fair enough.
For the most part, the story was good. I especially enjoyed the fight with Deathstroke in issue three (although, why didn't Green Arrow just stab Deathstroke in his working eye and, you know, get rid of a villain/assassin--I know, because that would be like killing him off, in a way, and you can't do that--except to minor, supporting characters like Sue Dibny and Jack Drake). The mystery was compelling and did make sense, with a few lines and panels early on that seem more ominous if you know Jean is the killer already.
But, shit, the narration (which, even though I don't like the technique Meltzer uses, is always well-written), goofy eyes and the murder itself bugged the fuck out of me. Definitely enjoyed it more than the first time I read it, though, and would recommend picking it up.
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