Did “The God Without Fear” Actually Happen? On War of the Realms: War Scrolls #1-3

Okay, yes, it did.

But.

But.

But, what if it didn’t?

What if the events as depicted in “The God Without Fear,” which ran for three parts in War of the Realms: War Scrolls #1-3, written by Jason Aaron, drawn by Andrea Sorrentino and Matthew Wilson, and lettered by Joe Sabino, only occurred within the mind of Matt Murdock? Setting aside the fact that that is highly unlikely based on the entire history of Marvel and the work of Jason Aaron, let’s walk through this story and see if it did, in fact, occur as presented.

The idea that this story didn’t actually happen first came to me when reading the third part, in the bottom panel of page nine. Daredevil, having used shards of the Bifrost to rescue a bunch of blind children that Malekith kidnapped to draw him out, is depicted lying in a field, arms outstretched, holding the hands of a child on either side whose arms are similarly outstretched to holds the hands of the children next to them. It’s such an odd panel that seems to have little basis in reality. Daredevil rescues the children so they can lie in a field, holding hands? It struck me more as an insight into his mind and the reality that he wished to observe. He equates saving the children, blind like himself, with their being at peace together in a field. It’s not a literal depiction.

And if that panel is not real, what is?

The observer effect is a theory of quantum mechanics in physics where the act of observation alters or impacts that which is being observed. It’s a theory that suggests that things aren’t as isolated as we like to think; that observing and measuring something, usually some small element of reality, affects it because no observation is entirely passive. Daredevil, normally blind, has the ability to see and hear all in this story, having taken Heimdall’s sword to command the Bifrost, which granted him Heimdall’s abilities. So, if Daredevil can see everything everywhere, how does that impact the reality of his own actions and events he’s a part of?

I would argue that the entirety of “The God Without Fear” is Daredevil’s observation of events, altered by his own viewing of them. What we see in the comic is entirely from his perspective. There are two things that support this idea: Daredevil narrates the entire story and the unique artistic by Sorrentino and Wilson that mimics Daredevil’s senses, even when he’s not present, as it does at the end of the first part when Kurse kicks Fisk in the face and there’s an outline box on the impact, coloured differently. It’s inconsistent with the non-Daredevil art and a clue towards what’s actually happening.

The primary conflict of “The God Without Fear” is an internal one. Matt Murdock’s continuing struggles with his faith run up against a new challenge when he becomes a god, or, at least, as close to one as he’s ever encountered. That casts the entire narrative into that set framework of Murdock trying to come to grips with what this means for both himself and the world around him. The narrative is shifted to suit his attempt to use this experience to better understand an unknowable deity whose presence and existence was ingrained into him at a young age.

By observing himself using these powers, Murdock hopes to observe a god in action. If he knows what he is thinking as he acts, and he is able to observe those acts from an external perspective, perhaps new insight is to be gained. In the first part, there is a clear disconnect between Murdock’s internal narration and the actions depicted. When he fights Frost Giants, the art depicts a cacophony of images piled upon one another with various insets and specific focal points, but the narration speaks of everything else that Murdock can see and hear until “I force myself to focus on the rush of icy blood through the arteries of these giants.” Once he focuses in that way, there is no true difference between Daredevil the god and Daredevil the man beyond some additional knowledge. A large depiction of a Frost Giant with a dozen parts isolated with facts provided is not so different from what Daredevil can normally sense in an opponent with his radar senses; the knowledge of the unearthly elements at play is the only addition. He can ‘see’ the various weaknesses and strengths of his opponent like any other time. As such, in the first part of this narrative, he learns very little about what being a god is, except that it’s either an activity in observing all of reality at a remove or it’s exactly like being a person, but with some added information immediately at hand. He’s left somewhat unsatisfied, questioning himself: “[...] but I do not know... if I am truly a god. I just answered the prayers of these people. Isn’t that what a god should do? I have also brought... divine retribution.” Except, in saving some innocents from Frost Giants, did he do anything different from any other night, except perhaps on a different scale?

This pattern continues through the second part. He talks up his powers in his narration, but his actions aren’t much different than normal. He marvels at the power both he and Fisk have at their disposal as they fight, but, aside from that, it’s just another fight between Daredevil and the Kingpin. By the end of the third part, Murdock cannot help but conflate himself with a god, not based on powers, but through his experiences. The added information and perspective gained by his godly powers doesn’t actually change him in any meaningful way. He takes down some thugs in New York, gets into a fight with Wilson Fisk, and saves some kids from a scummy bad guy and his muscle-bound goon before jumping back into another fight in New York. When he goes after Malekith, he narrates, “I used to curse God because I didn’t understand how he could be omnipotent and still let bad things happen to good people. But here I am, a god... doing the very same thing.”

His rescue of the blind children is very much a “Daredevil fight,” as he uses his abilities to his advantage, taking away the moonlight to fight in pitch darkness, and outthinking his opponent. He takes a beating to buy time before he’s able to enact his true plan. He plays to his strengths, fights a boxing strategy, and is able to save the day. At this larger scale of power, it only teaches him one thing: he’s still him, even with godlike powers. And that is the insight that he gains by juxtaposing his own actions with his inner knowledge. The story ends with him looking up at a church in New York and saying, “I’m sorry. About the things I always cursed you for. I didn’t know until now. That you’re just as blind as me.”

In observing himself from an external perspective using his new powers and comparing that to what he was thinking and feeling inside, Murdock learns that the only difference is that of scale. I suppose that is an insight, of sorts, but it’s also a thought exercise that doesn’t actually resolve the conflict he begins with entirely, because it begins from the flawed assumption that additional power is the same as being a god.

The manner in which he defeats Malekith provides another insight that competes with that final moment for being the ‘point’ of the story. The shards of the Bifrost are activated and allow Daredevil and the children to escape only when one of the children touches his sword. He narrates that “what I didn’t expect... was that sometimes more important than salvation... is divine inspiration,” which leads him to conclude, while he lays on the grass with the kids, that “It’s not our gods who give us strength. It’s the other damn way around.” If conflating himself with a god and judging that the only difference is that of scale is simplistic, this is the closest to a profound lesson that he learns and relates to the end of the first part when he spoke of answering prayers. It’s not a new lesson: the god doesn’t matter, it’s the believer. The god is a mirror of the believer, one imbued with an awesome scale of power, one whose whims and directions are merely an attempt to arrange order on the chaos of reality. Of observing the world around you and trying to make sense of it all, changing the unseen things to fit into a nice, neat narrative.

Just as Murdock does for the duration of this story.

There is one glaring argument against this particular reading: Daredevil, throughout the story, cannot actually see Malekith, who uses his magic to avoid detection and observation. In the second part, Daredevil is surprised when Wilson Fisk shows himself in New York, now possessing magical powers from Malekith; in the third part, Daredevil says that he can’t see Malekith until a specific moment, which is part of the Dark Elf’s attempt to entrap the hero. Except, that fits neatly into the narrative that’s presented here; it’s self-sabotage by Daredevil that’s not really in effect. Daredevil conveniently only sees Malekith as he discusses not being able to see Malekith with Heimdall. It fits Malekith into the regular Daredevil narrative where a bad guy has kidnapped some kids and holds them hostage, causing the hero to search for them until, finally, he comes across the trap.

The neatness of the narrative progression is part of what gives this away as a fantasy – or, at least, an edited version of reality. Aside from the present events of the narrative, the first and second parts begin with flashbacks to Daredevil’s past that inform the narrative. The first is an encounter with Thor that introduces the inner conflict between his faith and the existence of the Asgardian gods. He senses tell him that Thor believes himself a god when he calls himself such, which only raises more doubt. The ensuing narrative is Murdock gaining the powers of an Asgardian and learning if that means being a god. Much like the flaw in assuming additional power is the same as being a god, there’s also a flawed assumption in that having the power of an Asgardian is the same thing as being an Asgardian. If Daredevil has the power of Heimdall, is that the same thing as being Heimdall in every aspect? Of course not, because Daredevil continues to behave like Daredevil, not like Heimdall.

The second flashback focuses on the interplay between what is observed externally and what happens internally. Daredevil has caught a serial killer and talks of praying “that once I started beating you, I’d be able to stop,” and, then, admitting that he didn’t kill the man. He muses, “So I suppose God was listening to me that night. Or maybe my arms just got tired,” indicating that even he doesn’t know what happened. He experienced the events and walked away with an ambiguous conclusion of what happened. Perhaps if he had also witnessed those events, he would have gained new insight? Probably not.

If anything “The God Without Fear” is an exercise in solipsism. By simultaneously observing his actions and experiencing them, Murdock makes himself the centre of the universe, the focal point of everything. Everything that happens is fit into a narrative that suits his inner conflict and questions. Reality is remade to revolve around him. He doesn’t recue the children and return them back home; he lies in a field, basking in the glory of being their saviour and the knowledge that he is no different from his God. Even the ‘divine inspiration’ provided by one of the children becomes about him. If anything, this entirely self-centred approach to using his powers and defining his actions provides an unstated insight into the nature of God; one where everything exists and occurs merely as a reflection of His existence. Everything is God experiencing it and observing it simultaneously, fitting it all into a grand narrative of order, just as Matt Murdock does for the entirely of this story.

But, even if this reading of the story is correct, I must admit, that doesn’t mean that the events didn’t actually happen. Aside from that one panel, everything is credible enough. That the events that happen aren’t referenced in any way in War of the Realms does seem suspect, particularly an encounter with Malekith that doesn’t fit neatly into what’s shown in that series. Unfortunately, that isn’t enough to support the argument that the story didn’t happen. Even if the act of observing what happened caused Murdock to unconsciously use his powers to somehow reshape reality into the narrative that we read, that would mean that that is what happened. So, I guess the question that really needs to be asked: how different is “The God Without Fear” from what actually happened?

Only god knows...

Riding the Gravy Train: Avengers vs. X-Men, the Modern Event Comic, and the End of the Marvel Comics Decade

A little bit later than I had hoped, but Riding the Gravy Train: Avengers vs. X-Men, the Modern Event Comic, and the End of the Marvel Comics Decade is finally available via Amazon in both paperback and eBook.

As you can imagine, it is a collection of the posts I did on the event, but with some added extras like a final reading order for the event, annotations, new pieces, and some contributions by Tegan O'Neil and Tim Callahan (first Splash Page in print!). I've been working on this for a while and am really happy with how it turned out (I think - I haven't gotten a copy yet myself since it just went up yesterday). I'm really happy that Tegan and Tim allowed me to use their work. The new pieces by me are the introduction, an entry on three more comics that act as prologue to the event (Uncanny X-Men #9-10, and Avengers #24.1), and a longer essay looking back at the event seven years later.

Here's the description:

Avengers vs. X-Men was the biggest comics event of 2012. The culmination of a decade of stories co-written by Marvel’s five top writers dubbed “The Architects,” drawn by three of Marvel’s top artists, and featuring the company’s two largest franchises, it was billed as one of the biggest events in superhero comics history. Critic Chad Nevett read every issue in the event and wrote about them weekly from the prologues prior to the event starting right through the entire fallout with all of the good and bad of trying to follow an event on a weekly basis. Collected in a print edition featuring new essays by Nevett and additional supporting material by himself and fellow critics Tegan O’Neil and Timothy Callahan, Riding the Gravy Train is a deep dive into one of the biggest superhero events of the 21st century, and its subsequent legacy.

So, if you're so inclined, please get yourself a copy in your preferred format. Again, those links:

Paperback.

eBook.

Another View: A Critical Examination of the Final Issue of Age of Ultron

I am proud to announce the first in a series of books collecting my various online writings on comics, Another View: A Critical Examination of the Final Issue of Age of Ultron. It collects the 31 posts that I did on Age of Ultron #10 in January 2014 over at Comics Should Be Good. It contains a new introduction, footnotes, and a generally cleaned up version of the text.

It is available in paperback and in eBook formats at Amazon.

(Paperback)

(eBook)

It can also be found at any regional Amazon you prefer to use.

It's a purposefully small book, both in page count and dimensions. I went for a size closest to the one used for the 33 1/3 series. Something compact for a quicker read. Partly because I wanted to begin small, partly to get a little practice at putting these together. I have plans for future volumes and am already hard at work on the next collection. It will be a larger one, but focused on a single topic/series. It will feature more new content, at least two new pieces of writing that I plan to add along with various bonus features. I'm not sure when it will be out, possibly by the end of the year, maybe very early 2019. Beyond that one, I have some ideas, but nothing specific planned out.

So, if you feel so inclined, please buy a copy in your preferred format. I hope you enjoy.

No Quarter

You'd be hard pressed to name anyone who worked on Thor between Jack Kirby and Walt Simonson, I bet.

Thor #340 shares a cover date of February 1984 with Saga of the Swamp Thing #21.

It's difficult to thoroughly discuss the first four issues of Grant Morrison's Animal Man run without going back to the first four issues of Alan Moore's Saga of the Swamp Thing run.

"Worldengine" is an aberration rather than a beginning.

"FAR BEYOND THE FIELDS WE KNOW, THE CORE OF AN ANCIENT GALAXY EXPLODES! AND A MOLTEN INGOT OF STAR-STUFF IS LEFT BEHIND BUT NOT LEFT ALONE. MARK WELL THIS FIGURE AND LISTEN. LISTEN. CAN YOU HEAR IT? THE WIND IS RISING. THE SOUND OF THUNDER REVERBERATES THROUGHOUT A BILLION BILLION WORLDS. DOOM!"

"IT'S RAINING IN WASHINGTON TONIGHT. PLUMP, WARM SUMMER RAIN THAT COVERS THE SIDEWALKS WITH LEOPARD SPOTS. DOWNTOWN, ELDERLY LADIES CARRY THEIR HOUSEPLANTS OUT TO SET THEM ON THE FIRE-ESCAPES, AS IF THEY WERE INFIRM RELATIVES OR BOY KINGS. I LIKE THAT."

"TEN MILES OUTSIDE THE CITY, THE SCREAMING BEGINS IN EARNEST... QUIET AT FIRST, LIKE A COMMOTION HEARD IN ANOTHER ROOM, IT GROWS STEADILY LOUDER WITH EACH STEP..."

"Manhattan. I've always loved it best at night. Lit up like a million riverside campfires. Where I am, it's so dark it breaks my heart. A skyscraper, abandoned by its builders. I know how it feels. The heights of Manhattan are no place to die."

You'd be hard pressed to name anyone who worked on Thor between Jack Kirby and Walt Simonson, I bet. I can name some, like Stan Lee continuing to write the title after Kirby left, or Roy Thomas or Len Wein or one of the Buscemas... But, the chasm between Kirby and Simonson is both vast and nonexistent. The former because it was 158 issues and nearly 13 years between Kirby's last Thor issue and Simonson's first; the latter, because I imagine a lot of people go from issue 179 to issue 337 with few or no stops for the comics that make up that chasm. With Thor runs, there are twin giants: Kirby and Simonson. The creator and the improver (the reviser? the revitaliser?) with everyone working in their shadows since. For Kirby, that's nothing new exactly; as the (co-)creator of so many superhero comics, everyone involved since is working in his shadow (or one of his contemporaries') to one degree or another. To establish his own shadow, Simonson looked to Kirby, but not to his Thor, as he wrote in his introduction to The Ballad of Beta Ray Bill collection: "My model for such a beginning came from the work that Jack Kirby had done for DC Comics some thirteen years earlier. When Jack began his Fourth World tetralogy for DC, he took the comic, JIMMY OLSEN, and revamped it completely. His first issue of Superman's pal was as different from the preceding issues as chalk is from cheese! The issue was riveting. It exploded with new ideas, new characters, new situations. I didn't have as many ideas as Jack; no one does. But I definitely wanted to begin my run on Thor with as dramatic break from the preceding issues as I possibly could." And then, he went on to become the second giant of Thor and cast his own shadow. Now, there's two shadows to escape.

Thor #340 shares a cover date of February 1984 with Saga of the Swamp Thing #21. That's a coincidence that I rather like for my own purposes. Speaking of shadows, Alan Moore casts the only shadow worthwhile when it comes to Swamp Thing, eclipsing those that came before him, including the creators of the character. Their work, highly regarded by many, true, is mostly put into a box called 'pre-Moore' and left for those that are curious to see what came before or are big fans of Bernie Wrightson. But, let's not kid ourselves. I'm sure there are some hardcore Neal Adams fans that obsess over him following directly on Thor after Kirby left, but those issues are mostly left for the hardcore. Same with pre-Moore Swamp Thing. But, when all things are considered, Swamp Thing is a minor character, mostly still regarded in any way because of Moore's work on the character. It's still a DC character, so it would always continue to recur, but not nearly as much as it has were it not for the run began with Saga of the Swamp Thing #21 (yes, yes, yes, Moore wrote the previous issue, too, but I'm trusting you to have more sense than that). But, the shadow that Moore casts isn't really over Swamp Thing (though he does cast a shadow there, of course). Moore casts a shadow over British comic writer (you could argue over comic writing, but...). He was the one that made the '80s 'British Invasion' happen. Without him, there's no Neil Gaiman, Grant Morrison, Peter Milligan, Jamie Delano, Warren Ellis, Garth Ennis... (all huge talents who probably would have made it in one way or another, definitely in the UK, but hard to say in the US exactly). So, there's his shadow, lingering over all of the British/UK writers to follow. Many have escaped (the names I listed being the main ones), but it still lingers to a degree (though, fading every year).

It's difficult to thoroughly discuss the first four issues of Grant Morrison's Animal Man run without going back to the first four issues of Alan Moore's Saga of the Swamp Thing run. Or, as Morrison put it in the introduction to the first Animal Man collection: "In 1987, at the height of the critical acclaim for Alan Moore's work on SWAMP THING and WATCHMEN, DC Comics dispatched a band of troubleshooters on what is quaintly termed a 'headhunting mission' to the United Kingdom. The brief was to turn up the stones and see if there weren't any more cranky Brit authors who might be able to work wonder with some of the dusty old characters languishing in DC's back catalogue." The tension, both real world and creative, between Moore and Morrison is so notable and longstanding that Elizabeth Sandifer is still in the midst of a massive multi-book series called The Last War in Albion tracing the whole thing through (and beyond) both men's careers and bodies of work. So, if Morrison is willing to introduce their major US superhero comic breakthrough book by acknowledging that it was Moore's success that made it possible, then you know that it's true. But, beyond that fact, you can't read the first four issues of Animal Man without referencing Saga of the Swamp Thing #21-24, because Morrison's work is in response to and in debt to those four issues. Out of the green and into the red.

"Worldengine" is an aberration rather than a beginning. It could have been the beginning of the third giant Thor run. It was not. It could have been the beginning of Warren Ellis's Saga of the Swamp Thing. It was not. Per Ellis, from The Captured Ghosts Interviews: "When I was offered Thor, that was probably a mistake. I think I wrote it 'cause I was so shocked at having been offered it. I wasn't very pleased with it. I wasn't au fait enough with the particular genre. Mike Deodato, I thought, did a very strong job as the artist, but I wasn't happy with the way I wrote it. It was one of those things I took not because I was trying to make a mark at Marvel, but because I thought -- I mean, it was still early days for me. I thought, 'Shit, if I don't take this, they might not offer me anything else! And they've offered me this! I should take this!' No, it was a mistake. Errors of youth." "Worldengine" came about because Ellis was too afraid to say no and he stuck around just for four issues, but those four issues follow the path already walked by Simonson, breaking from what came before as dramatically as possible; it was a defiant change in tone and style akin to Moore. But, the break was so dramatic, so specific, so startling, that it would difficult for anyone else to follow through on. It was so different that it was basically scorching the earth. It wasn't the beginning of a run. It was a hit and run. Simonson stayed; Moore stayed; Morrison stayed; Ellis left.

Walt Simonson began his run by introducing a strange alien worthy enough to carry Mjolnir.

Alan Moore began his run by revealing Swamp Thing was never human, was never Alec Holland.

Grant Morrison began their run by making the human race the antagonist for its treatment of animals.

Warren Ellis wrote a Thor story where Thor becomes mortal, loses his shirt, and fucks the Enchantress.

While some of the characters created after Kirby left Thor have stuck, none have become a standard part of Thor's title (and the Marvel Universe) like Beta Ray Bill. A horse-like alien aboard a spaceship that seems to pose a threat to Earth, Thor engages him in battle. It's an evenly matched fight and, at one point, Thor loses Mjolnir, a minute passes, he turns back to Don Blake... and the alien picks up the cane, hits it against a wall without any intent, and is transformed. He wears a costume like Thor's (though modified) and is able to carry Mjolnir. He is worthy. Odin comes to call Thor home to Asgard to assist with a massive threat and he takes Beta Ray Bill, thinking it is his son, leaving Blake alone in the storm left by the All-Father's wake, screaming "FATHER!" That's how Walt Simonson introduced Beta Ray Bill and began his Thor run. Bad guys had been able to match Thor in combat before. The stories wouldn't have been interesting (or possible) otherwise. Thor getting knocked on his ass wasn't new. Someone else picking up that cane, striking it, and being given Thor's powers, being able to lift and carry and command Mjolnir... Someone else being worthy. Now, that was new. That was different. That was making a statement.

Maybe there had been an 'everything you knew was wrong' sort of reboot before (I guess Moore's own Marvelman a year and a half or so prior would count), but this was probably the most high profile one. Swamp Thing has been shot dead. Jason Woodrue, the Floronic Man, is hired to do the autopsy and figure out how Alec Holland was transformed into Swamp Thing. He discovers a plant composed of human-like organs that serve no purpose other than to look like human organs. He figures it out: Swamp Thing is not a mutated human. It's a plant. Alec Holland was never transformed, a plant was. And you can't kill a plant with a gun. So, Woodrue revives Swamp Thing, leaves out his report, and arranges it so his employee is killed by a very confused, very angry plant who has just learned that it's not a man after all. Swamp Thing was never Alec Holland, it just thought it was. Everything you -- and the star of the comic -- knew was wrong. That was new. That was different. That was making a statement.

In contrast, Grant Morrison did 'everything you knew was wrong' in a completely different way. You thought Animal Man was a superhero when really he's not. He has superpowers and a costume that he doesn't really wear, but he's not a proper superhero. He's a suburban layabout husband who thinks he'll give being a hero another go. And how does he go about it? By going on a late night talk show. So, he's the guy that STAR Labs calls when Superman is too busy and everyone thinks that he can turn into animals. You've seen superheroes with families and superheroes who aren't necessarily the best, but a name superhero who's one step above being a wannabe? Animal Man was never really a superhero, you just thought he was. That was new. That was different. That was making a statement.

Warren Ellis didn't introduce a new character to challenge our preconceptions about Thor. He didn't reveal a dark secret from Thor's past that changed everything (thank christ). He didn't use a reality-altering megaevent to rearrange the details of his life and present a different sort of hero. He just turned him mortal, had his dad be an asshole, and had him fight some cyborg zombie vikings. It's a variation on the approach that Morrison did for Animal Man, but altered from him as much as he altered it from Moore. A radical change in circumstances, albeit a new one that left everything before completely intact. Ellis's approach was rooted in the basic origin of Thor, similar to how Simonson went back to the origin as well. Where Simonson honed in on the inscription on Mjolnir, Ellis picked the idea of Thor being made mortal, banished to Earth by his father to be given a lesson in humility. No separate identity this time; no (supposedly) loving lesson from Odin. Just sickness and death, because someone is fucking with the World-Ash. Thor speaks and thinks like we do, he's withering away, he's dirty and greasy and dying, he fights through a host of zombies, he see what's being done to the thing that controls everything, and he's smacked on the head. He's probably dead. That was new. That was different. That was making a statement.

The key to Beta Ray Bill wasn't the initial shock that he could hold Mjolnir. If that was all there was to the character, he never would have lasted. That's a great moment of shock to kick off a run, get attention, and dare readers to not come back next month. That's a route for a quick one-and-done character, not someone who has become like a brother to Thor, a trusted ally of Asgard and some of Marvel's cosmic heroes. No, the key to Beta Ray Bill is the backstory. The member of an alien race who gave up his life to be altered into the perfect warrior and protector as his people fled their destroyed world, pursued by an unending supply of space demons. His only thoughts are of his people, but, when faced with Thor and Odin, he finds his own sense of honour -- his worthiness -- prevents him from taking Mjolnir, a weapon that could help him better save his people. He's so noble that he gave up everything for his people -- and is then so noble that he can't rob a man of his birthright to continue protecting them. He's been alone in the universe and, now, he's faced with a race of people who may not be his people, but are a match for who he's become. A warrior race of honour and nobility... One that sees his internal struggle and manages to give him both the weapon he needs and maintain his honour by not taking it from Thor. Beta Ray Bill is so worthy that Odin makes him his very own Mjolnir, a Stormbreaker. He's not just the first being we've seen lift Mjolnir aside from Thor and Odin, he's the first being we've seen welcomed into the inner circle of Odin's family like that. He's basically introduced, fights Thor twice, and is adopted as a member of the house of Odin. He's a shock, he's a tragic backstory, and he's a match for Thor...

At the end of "The Anatomy Lesson," (and, as a quick aside, you know how influential a single comic is when everyone knows its title like that... there aren't a lot of single issues in the history of American superhero comics where everyone knows its title; they're more likely to know the issue number than the story title) we've been given a piece of information that we didn't know: Swamp Thing was never Alec Holland, it just thought it was. However, that revelation wasn't the sort where everything falls into place and we all go "Of course! How was I so blind?" It just raises more questions. If Swamp Thing is a plant who thought he was human, was it a conscious being before the accident? Is it a mutated plant? Now that it's killed the old man, what will it do? Woodrue thinks it's going back to Louisiana. The next three issues don't necessarily answer these questions beyond what happens next. But, that works to Moore's advantage. Swamp Thing is supplanted by Woodrue who taps into the Green, amplifies his powers, and begins to slaughter people, threatening to kill all of the humans for what they've done to the vegetation of the world. All the while, Swamp Thing is rooted, deep in a barely conscious state as he slowly processes what he now knows. Woodrue's disruption is what shocks him awake and he confronts Woodrue, reminding him that plants need people to produce the carbon dioxide that they need. He confronts the man who wants to be a plant no longer the plant who thinks he's a man... We don't know yet exactly what Swamp Thing is, just that he is Swamp Thing and he is home and he is happy...

Morrison also gives Animal Man a double, a pre-existing character, B'wanna Beast. It's a similar idea to what Moore did with the vegetation, except it's people's treatment of animals at the core here. The experimentation on animals, the way that the scientist at STAR Labs lies to Animal Man about what they've been doing (no cure for AIDS here, just biological weapons), and the eventual confrontation between Animal Man and his twisted double, the Beast that ends with Animal Man healing him and punching out the scientist. A story that began with us seeing that Buddy Baker is not a superhero really ends with him doing a bunch of things that superheroes don't usually do: healing his enemy, hitting civilians, and generally switching sides to a degree. Swamp Thing protects the plants; Animal Man will protect animals. Like Swamp Thing, Animal Man protects by getting the 'bad guy' to back down. Except all the bad guy here wanted to do was rescue his primate friend from those that captured, experimented on tortured her, and was in the process of killing her in order to learn how to kill more. Animal Man learns that his perspective was wrong and that maybe he needs to learn a lot more. We don't know what he'll do next, just that he's home with his family and he doesn't seem exactly sure what he's going to do next...

What makes "Worldengine" so hard to follow for someone who isn't Ellis is exactly what would have made any of these other three hard to follow by anyone who wasn't the writer of those first four issues. He upends everything. (One of the notable changes, though, is that the last time we see Beta Ray Bill in the story, he's in a coma, possibly already dead.) Thor spends the second act of the story with the Enchantress, surrendering himself to her advances, and deciding that he needs to find out what is going on with the World-Ash, what's trying to kill him, and what he can do to help. They find a new character, a mad scientist so obsessed with the end of the world and what would come next that he has taken the World-Ash and used technology to advance it through Ragnarok in order to cause it to produce the new humans for that post-apocalyptic world. Except, the world hasn't died by fire and those new humans were designed for a much different environment and they all die. Thor forcibly repairs the damage to the World-Ash and he returns back with the Enchantress, seemingly his old self (at least with his powers). He decides that he'll remain on Earth, that he only managed to save everything today, because he thought things through. Where exactly he is at the end of "Worldengine" is ambiguous. He's with the Enchantress, he's still Thor, but he's quasi-mortal, he's Earthbound, and... "Worldengine" ends in a manner that is both a decided new break from what came before, but also ambiguous on where to go next with numerous unanswered questions.

When you read "The Ballad of Beta Ray Bill," it's not just the plot that stands out, it's the strong stylistic change. It's Simonson's bulky Thor, John Workman's lettering (the extra space in word balloons!), the way that Simonson gives little asides to other Asgardians, and the Surtur teases. These Thor comics don't read like previous Thor comics. They're nonstop, there's a mixing of new with hints of Norse legend... it feels like Simonson is pulling the book in two directions to an extent. And that dual pulling would be a trademark of his run; he teases Surtur, Loki, the Enchantress's sister, Balder in Hel... he gives us Beta Ray Bill, ends Donald Blake, has Thor working (briefly) for SHIELD... Odin takes Thor and Bill up to Hlidskialf to talk over their problem! He mixes it all together in a way you've never seen before. Even now, there's something alien and shocking about these pages -- they don't look like what I know Thor comics to look like, because they're so rooted in Simonson's specific style.

Alan Moore's prose in "The Anatomy Lesson" is what stands out and is what really fucked over those that followed him, eh? Purple prose -- but with the purpose of slowly unveiling his big reveal. Purpose prose to create a certain ambiance, a certain tone. It wasn't just that Swamp Thing was a superhero book, Moore was positioning it as a horror book, and that required a bit of a heavier mood to hover in those pages. His prose sucks you in more, makes you get a little bit more invested in what you're reading, because it takes a little longer, is a little more descriptive... Later, when the Justice League shows up, they're treated like something a little alien, a little... off. Like they don't fit. And they don't save the day at all, because superheroes aren't exactly effective in horror stories. The 'everything you thought you knew was wrong' approach wasn't just about Swamp Thing's character -- it was about the genre of the comic. Sure, it had horror roots (Bernie Wrightston co-created it!), but it was still a powerful hero figure from DC Comics... Swamp Thing was a superhero of the monster subsection. After "The Anatomy Lesson" and the three issues that followed it, it was clear that it was a horror comic and had always been a horror comic.

The tone is Animal Man's first four issues is... a little muddled, I find. But, that's good. It suits the book. It has a message and it's strong in presenting that message about humans being garbage about how they treat other humans and animals. It's a bit over the top and lacking nuance, but... it's a superhero comic. It's got a lot of Moore's purple prose for the Beast's parts, but he represents the horror side of the book. He makes horrible blends of animals/humans, and is waging a war not unlike Woodrue, except one that's a little more justified because it's a specific instance of some humans doing wrong -- not a broad "humans kill plants, so I kill all humans" sort of take. It's meant to be the inverse of Woodrue and Swamp Thing  where Swamp Thing stops Woodrue by pointing out that he's wrong; here, Animal Man learns that he's wrong. The tone and style of the book isn't exactly clear yet, because Animal Man himself isn't clear yet. He doesn't know who he is and what kind of superhero he's going to be yet. By the end, there's a sense of the message of the book and points to its eventual direction...

It's hard to miss the stylistic influences upon Ellis in "Worldengine." There's the Mooresean captions. There's the calling back to Norse myths (Odin arrives on Hlidskialf when he appears to Thor in the sky, very similarly to the way he appears at the end of issue 337) while pushing the new like Simonson did. Ellis's contribution as far as new characters go is Curzon, a British cop in New York. He's how we get a lot of the Norse myth stuff as he investigates a bunch of weird shit surrounding the World-Ash. He's a shouty British man who hates American coffee, likes to smoke, and is forced to do lots of reading about Thor for his job. While Ellis would deny that he's a stand-in for himself, all he really does is show up, be shouty Brit, smoke, read about Thor, and get disappeared at the end of the story, much like Ellis. With Mike Deodato and Marie Javins's art and Jonathan Babcock's letters, much like Simonson's issues, this doesn't look like any Thor before or after. Odin is bathed in Norse myth visual, his dialogue a quais-Rune script... Thor's narrative captions are casual, the opposite of Moore's purple prose, but that's only because Thor is known for that faux-Shakespearan speech pattern. So, Ellis uses the technique, but changes the actual style. Because Ellis doesn't stick around, his stylistic flourishes don't either. He wasn't there long enough to really make a mark. He seems poised to turn Thor into a urban superhero of sorts, shifting from one superhero subgenre to another, but...

Simonson teases the end of the world both with the demons and the slow build coming of Surtur (DOOM!).

Moore teases the end of the world both with Woodrue killing everyone and humanity ending it due to their killing too many plants.

Morrison teases the end of the world both with the biological weapon escaping from STAR Labs and humanity ending it due to killing too many animals.

Ellis shows what it will be like after the world has ended, because a human uses technology to trick the World-Ash into thinking it happened.

"THOR, HUMILITY IS A LESSON EVEN GODS CAN LEARN. SUCH WAS THE MEANING OF MJOLNIR'S SPELL WROUGHT LONG AGO. THOUGH THY HAMMER STILL RETAINS SOME LITTLE ENCHANTMENT, YOU WILL CARRY THE MEMORY OF YOUR COMBAT WITH BILL FOREVER. WE MAY ALL PROFIT FROM THAT, NO? AS FOR ANOTHER FIGHT WITH BILL... NOT EVEN THE ALL-WISE KNOWS EVERYTHING, MY SON."

"ALMOST DAWN... A BIRD SPEAKS... BARELY AWAKE... ANOTHER ANSWERS... SOON... ALL THE BIRDS... ARE TALKING, TELLING... EACH OTHER... THEIR DREAMS... WHY? WHY DID... I EVER... LEAVE THIS PLACE? I WANT... TO WALK HERE... FOREVER. I WANT... TO STRUGGLE... WITH THE ALLIGATORS... TURNING OVER... AND OVER... IN THE MUD... I WANT TO... BE ALIVE... AND GROW... AND RISE UP..."

"SOMEWHERE, THE MONKEYS ARE SCREAMING. AND SCREAMING. AND SCREAMING."

"I required a safe haven from which to decide my future -- our future. I have gotten close to death for the very first time, and it has chilled me. It has forced me to think, to reason through crises rather than hitting them. Inside, a woman I am perhaps coming to love waits for me: something I have never truly known. Above, my Family has rejected me in an ultimate way. The rain grows stronger. Dark stormfronts swirl above. There is a shout amid the thunder."

I have done a poor job of pulling these four works together the way that I wanted. But, I believe you can see what I was going for. Maybe Ellis was right and he wasn't a good fit for Thor. I still think that's wrong, but I don't know how much struggle or discomfort he had when writing "Worldengine." He wears his influences in an obvious fashion, standing firmly in the shadows of Simonson and Moore, never escaping either in these four issues. (That all four of these runs began as four-issue stories is fun, isn't it? Four issues is the easiest way to to hit that three-act structure with the second act twice as long as the first and third...) Instead, it wouldn't be for another three, four years that Ellis would stumble upon a four-issue story that would begin a run that would help him create his own shadow for others to toil in after him.

"They think there's no one left to save the world."

The First Thorsday: On The Unworthy Thor #1

Jason Aaron began his run on the Thor titles in November of 2012. Four years ago. It began with Thor: God of Thunder with Esad Ribic drawing the book and Dean White colouring it. Now, four years later, Aaron delivers his 50th Thor comic, The Unworthy Thor #1 and he has the artist that put his stamp on the two previous big Thor runs with him, Olivier Coipel. I've been looking forward to this comic ever since it was announced as, unsurprisingly, an underlying mystery that has obsessed me is the words that made the Odinson unworthy back in Original Sin. I imagine that this mini-series will finally answer that question. I haven't even speculated in private as to what was said to change the Odinson from worthy to not, because I'm sure that I can't come up with it myself. And part of me is certain that the revelation will be somewhat lame. After all, what can possibly be whispered to a god and have such a profound effect? We'll see, I suppose.

But, back to the business at hand...

I must admit that, beyond the mystery of how he became unworthy, my other big reason for anticipating The Unworthy Thor was that it continues the story of Thor Odinson. Given the amount of backlack that the Jane Foster Thor has gotten from some sections of Thor fandom, it feels wrong to say that in some ways. But, you know, as much as I'm enjoying The Mighty Thor currently (and I am, quite a bit), it's not the same character, a character that I'd have to say is my favourite mainstream superhero comic character. Part of the reason why I've wanted to write about Thor is to see if I can figure out why I love this character so much. After all, it's a character that seems the opposite of me: not necessarily bright, very violent, a bit of drunken oaf... He's not a character that I see myself in, like Peter Parker or even wish, on some level, I were, like Spider Jerusalem. While there is a part of me that would love to hit things with a big fucking hammer, I can't say that Thor is character that I would like to be, beyond using his action figure to play superheroes with my son. So, the unstated question that will run through this newsletter is

WHY DO I LIKE THOR SO MUCH?

Let no more be said of that question...

A return to the Odinson has been something I've been waiting for. In part to answer the mystery, in part because he's my Thor. I dig the other Thor (I dig all Thors, really), but it's not the character that I've been reading about for most of my life. Is that sad? It might be, but fuck it. I have enough love in my heart for many Thors and I'm not ashamed to say such an obviously shameful thing.

The last time we saw the unworthy Odinson, he was trapped in some energy/mechanical thing and, nearby, on the ground, was Ultimate Mjolnir. Here's the continuation as we begin with the Odison fighting through mobs in a daily attempt to get that hammer -- and every day he fails. Then, we get the beginning of how he got the idea to get Ultimate Mjolnir in the aftermath of Secret Wars. Aaron has the Odinson narrate the story and Coipel, along with colourist Matthew Wilson, delivers some gorgeous work. It's a good comic. At least, for me, it's a good comic.

I recently reread all of the Thor comics (including Journey into Mystery) from J. Michael Straczynski (I didn't have to look up the spelling) until the beginning of Jason Aaron's run -- so, the JMS run, the Gillen run, and the Fraction run with a bunch of Loki stuff thrown in. Olivier Coipel drew most of the JMS run, with some help from Marko Djurdjevic (I didn't need to look up how to spell that, either) and, then, later did the first six issues of relaunched Mighty Thor under Fraction (that was the story where Odin fought Galactus, the Silver Surfer moved to Broxton, and a local pastor became the new Herald of Galactus, a fact that was probably never followed up on by anyone). He also drew Siege, which was the second-closest event that we've gotten to a Thor-centric event (after Fear Itself). He's clearly got a fondness for the character and the news that he would draw this series was less a surprise than a friendly bit of news. A moment where a familiar face pops in for a visit. His work here with Wilson is quite good. More lush and detailed than the last time I saw his art; a bit sketchier in spots, a bit rougher... yet more refined. I've been a fan of his for a decade and this is the best work I've seen from him. I'm still not sophisticated enough to fully articulate the ways that I think I see Wilson making Coipel's line work better, but, rest assured, he does. Wilson and the fact that Coipel is inking himself are two things that assist in this 'level up' moment...

The version of Thor Odinson we get here is a bit pathetic. He's less than he once ways and knows it. He's full of self-loathing... and pride. That undercurrent of pride is important, because it shows that no matter how unworthy he may be, there's part of him that can't escape who he's been his entire life. He's still the Odinson. He's just fallen and desperate and sad. That opening scene where he's fighting off hoards of aliens and creatures to reach Ultimate Mjolnir -- does he drive himself on because he's THOR SON OF ODIN GOD OF THUNDER or because he's desperate to be that person again? It's the same character, obviously, but is he the same man/god that we've been reading about for so long? That looks to be the point of the series (which Aaron confirms in his text piece at the end of the issue) and it's an intriguing one. In the small amount of Thor comics I've been (re)reading lately (the Simonson run, the aforementioned JMS/Gillen/Fraction runs, and a few issues into the second Essential Thor volume after reading the first one) (okay, that's not a small number of comics, but, in the overall number of Thor comics, it's not large), the idea that the Asgardians are malleable beyond other superhero characters has cropped up. They are explicitly beings of stories and, thus, are more easily shaped and reshaped according to the needs of the narrative. There have been numerous contradictions and changes and retcons and they all work, because the characters shrug and say "It was so long ago, who can remember for sure?" and just get on with it. The most recent issue of The Mighty Thor gave a new origin for Mjolnir and it's great. If someone retcons that in a few years, it won't matter, because the story was good. Thor and the Asgardians yield entirely to the story and that's cool.

–30–

The final Blogathon 2013 total: $1121.00 raised for the Hero Initiative. Thanks to the following sponsors: Tim Callahan, Dan Billings, David Brown, Derek Handley, Patrick Ridings, Bradley Grehan, Scott Cederlund, Lee Merovitz, Nathan Bethell, Tucker Stone, Slava Savelev, Patrick Waton, Chris Johnson, Jeff Lester, Alec Berry, Shane Hagadorn, James Moore, Michelle Nevett, Greg Burgas, Sandy Nevett, Scott Cresswell, David Clarke, Enrique Treviño, Mike Loughlin, Justin Hugen, Shawn Starr, Ryan K. Lindsay, Rick Vance, Garth Holmes, and Christopher Keels. Thank you to all of the guest posters as well. This Blogathon was such an overwhelming success. I still can't believe it. And I can't think of a more fitting way to close shop.

I haven't been happy with my online presence for a while. Not happy with my writing or with the way I approach the online world. I decided that I need to tear it all down, destroy it, and, then, decide what I want, what I enjoy. People have asked why I'm not taking a break from GraphiContent and then returning instead of ending it, and the answer has always been obvious to me: for me to change what I'm doing, I have to leave it behind. Before you can begin something new, you have to leave the old behind. GraphiContent will remain here. All of the archives will remain. I am incredibly proud of the body of work that I built here. I'm less proud that certain areas are unfinished, but, hey, that's life.

I said a lot of what I meant to say here over the past few days -- in my responses to David and Tucker, in today's final Random Thoughts... When I began GraphiContent with Steve Higgins and some others, it was with the naive hope of 'raising the bar' as it were on comics discourse. The bar didn't need raising and we certainly didn't do it. But, I couldn't imagine everything that would come from that original grandoise, delusional call to arms. It took a while for me to find what I wanted to say, but, once I did, I went for it. I hope, in what I do next, it doesn't take me so many years to find what I'm looking for and that I can do better. Don't you see? The problem is that I stopped trying to do better. Never stop trying to do better.

Thanks to everyone who shared some kind words over the past while. It's nice to know that people dug what I did.

But, I'm done.

Tomorrow, I buy comics just for me, not for you. Ha. Yeah. Yeah!

Later

Chad Nevett
Just turned 30, listening to the Velvet Underground

Best of 2012: The Top Ten Comics of 2012

My top ten comics of 2012...

10. PRISON PIT BOOK FOUR BY JOHNNY RYAN! Book two made my 'best of the year' list, while book three did not last year. What makes book four of Prison Pit so worthy? After all, you'll see that a lot of big, important, fantastic comics did make this list. Yet, a comic about depraved violence does? Mindless, brutal violence with no redeeming value, some might even argue! I wouldn't be one of those people. I love fake violence. I read superhero comics, watch professional wrestling, and love me some Prison Pit. I love Johnny Ryan's imagination. While there is an element of "If you've read one Prison Pit book, you've read them all," that's not true. Because he surprises in every book with the ways he does the same sort of violence in new ways. The ways in which he keeps himself and the reader from being bored at a little bit more of the old ultraviolence. The ways he comes out with new monstrosities and new conflicts for Cannibal Fuckface to deal with, each bigger than the last. Each seemingly more hopeless.

Book three ended on a cliffhanger that left me wondering "What next? How can Ryan get CF out of this? WHAT HAPPENS TO PRISON PIT NOW, YOU BASTARD!" And, then, here we are, and CF gets out of it in a clever, entertaining way. Recently, I've become fascinated with the way writers will create seemingly impossible situations for their protagonists and, then, get them out of it. I love that stuff. And, like most fiction, that's all Prison Pit is at its core: Cannibal Fuckface gets into a seemingly impossible situation and, then, gets himself out. Usually, it's a big, monster of a foe that he has to kill in a bloody, disgusting way. We've seen him eaten by an enemy... and break his way out. He's set on a collision course with a former enemy in this book and the end of this book is... well, you have to see it to believe that someone would make a comic like this.

And I love it.

I spent a lot of time after getting Prison Pit book four flipping through it, letting Ryan's art just sit in front of my eyes... His messy blacks -- pages covered in black inky blood! That splash page where you can hear the metallic score reach a high mark in the background as CF stands with a sword, head and torso covered in blood as he demands another guy's boots and kneepads. It's pure fucking heroic storytelling! THIS IS COMICS!

9. SCALPED BY JASON ARRON, RM GUERA, AND OTHERS! Scalped released its final six issues in 2012 and I had a chance to read the entire 60 issues over the course of a week. It is an impressive work, especially in its final six issues. Jason Aaron doesn't give us a clean, easy conclusion. It's messy and awful and ends in a way that I hate yet respect and understand. It wasn't a book that was going to end in a way that satisfies, honestly. We all wanted a happy ending. After 59 issues of death and pain and struggle, all you really want is an issue where some peace and happiness can be found, especially for the book's lead, Dash Bad Horse. Scalped is an ensemble piece with the Rez acting as the star to a degree, but Dash is the closest thing we have to a protagonist and, fuck, I wanted him to get a win. I wanted him to be happy. I could live with everyone else getting fucked, but Dash? He did some awful stuff and I wasn't more happy reading this book than at the beginning of that final arc when he was happy and seemingly settling into a leadership role in the Rez. Not the leader, but someone who was finally looking beyond himself and his concerns.

But, it wasn't that kind of story. I should have known better.

I don't always (or often) get invested in characters like that. It takes something special to do it and Scalped had that. A big part of that was the art of RM Guera. It took some time, but I grew to appreciate and love his art. His work is so savage and sweet at the same time. There's so much passion in his line work and the way he builds pages. Even moments of calm (of which there are two or three over the couse of Scalped) have this energy that makes them seem like a page can barely contain them. His art is messy and grotesque in those best ways. His characters look like people and not -- exaggerations, but so specific and deep that they may as well be real.

Endings are hard to land in cases like this. How could that final issue live up to everything that the previous 59 issues promised? Hell, who wanted this book to end? We hate endings, because we don't want endings. Especially in comics. Comics don't end, they keep going forever! It's hard to really love an ending to a comic. Like I said, I respect and understand the final issue of Scalped... but I kind of hate it. Yet, this book makes my top ten comics of 2012 nonetheless, because it was still a damn good ending even if I hate it. Does that make any sense?

Every single one of these six issues released in 2012 were issues that I greatly anticipated and... they all delivered in their own way. They surprised me, they moved me, they entertained me, and they stuck with me.

8. ULTIMATE X-MEN BY BRIAN WOOD, PACO MEDINA, CARLOS BARBERI, AND OTHERS! This time last year, the Ultimate title that I was in love with was The Ultimates under the direction of Jonathan Hickman and Esad Ribic (it was my #7 book of 2011). But, Hickman and Ribic left that title for Avengers and Thor: God of Thunder, while Ultimate X-Men writer Nick Spencer was replaced with Brian Wood. What Wood did with the title was make it a book about a revolution, about a world where mutants are not just feared and hated, they are penned up and killed -- and just when it seems like they've won, like they've finally gotten their freedom, something comes along and all but 20 mutants decide to stop being mutants. Forget the 198, Wood made mutants a truly endangered species on the brink of extinction. And he made them unable to function as a single group.

That one-two punch of mutants coming together to fight against oppression and win only for humans to come along and find a way to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat... it was masterful. It was taking advantage of the Ultimate Universe in a similar way to how Hickman did the same in The Ultimates. Take some familiar toys and fuck them up, because... why not? He could never do this on X-Men, but Ultimate X-Men is a whole other story.

Kitty Pryde has been the protagonist and leader of the mutants... even though, now, a sizeable minority seem to want her dead, because she seems intent on playing nice with humanity. In the most recent story, the mutants invent a seed that can grow anything anywhere... and she decides to give it away for free. This, after President Rogers gave mutants a dead piece of land for their reservation. You can see why some would simply want to declare war on humanity and die taking out of a few humans. But, Kitty sees a better way. It's a more spiteful way, I think. A "You try to kill us? Well, we're going to solve world hunger. Fuck you." way. It's doing good in a manner where everyone will want to accept it and some will hate themselves for it. It's forcing humanity to embrace its hypocrisy.

What would someone do if they were in a similar situation? Wood is quite good at creating these dramatic, fucked up contexts and, then, exploring how people would act in them. How noble intentions can go wrong, how people will still insist on doing stupid things, and how things will usually wind up bad even when it seems they can't.

Honestly, what I keep waiting for is for Wood to be paired with an artist that can make his scripts sing like they should. This is a book that makes this like despite the art. It's rarely been bad, but it doesn't enhance and improve like it should. It's serviceable at best. The strength of Wood's writing -- and the way that writing like this appeals to me specifically -- carry the day.

7. WONDER WOMAN BY BRIAN AZZARELLO, CLIFF CHIANG, TONY AKINS, AND OTHERS! Earlier this week, I wrote that Wonder Woman often reads like the least Azzarello-esque thing I've read by Brian Azzarello. I stand by that. There's little in Wonder Woman or Orion that scream "Typical Azzarello!" but there's plenty that does. Like the way the gods play one another and vie for power. Or the way Azzarello writes dialogue with so much precision and playfulness. The most recent issue, for example, had the Wonder Woman/Orion stuff that didn't seem at all like Azzarello, but it also had the stuff in the bar that felt like the Azzarello we all know and are a little afraid to love.

While Batman seems like a more 'natural' fit for a guy like Azzarello, he's very suited to writing Wonder Woman. A pure character who has a dark, dangerous side. She comes from a violent, cruel world - the Amazons are warriors, their gods are spiteful... she can work within the dark side of things. She can think of dangerous, cruel things to do, because she has a noble cause. She clearly doesn't like doing certain things, but she will. She will doublecross gods and sacrifice herself to save a baby. She's a hero unafraid to do what it takes to protect life. Yet, it never feels like she's bloodthursty or as brutal as someone like Batman. There's a hope and optimism to the character that most don't have -- and it never feels corny like it sometimes does with the likes of Superman. She's a good person who will do bad things if necessary and that's pretty simple.

Wonder Woman had the best zero issue that I read from DC. Azzarello was so playful in the opening narration and used the conceipt in a way that clearly plays a big role in the story he's telling. Almost like a backstory he was aware of but wouldn't share unless necessary. A lot could be learned there.

The art on Wonder Woman is top-notch. Cliff Chiang brings the right sort of light, cartoony feel that helps soften Azzarello a little and make this work feel more like a complete whole than a mismatched writer/artist (it helps that they're not mismatched). And Tony Akins is a great fill-in artist, working in a similar style to Chiang. There's a very unified look to this comic and it's a strong, bold one. It's sort of what you want a superhero comic to look like.

The character designs really impress me as well. The looks of the gods are inventive while remaining true to their natures. Apollo looks nothing like you've seen him portrayed before... yet it doesn't seem wrong in any way. Hades is particularly inspired. And the Orion redesign is the best redesign of that character. Very true to Kirby's original while looking more contemporary in a way that isn't immediately dated. How did Chiang do it?

Tim, you should catch up on this comic. It's really, really good.

6. FURY MAX BY GARTH ENNIS, GORAN PARLOV, AND OTHERS! I picked the perfect summer to read American Tabloid by James Ellroy, didn't I? Ennis owes Ellroy a debt in how he's writing Fury MAX, but that isn't really what makes it such a great comic. Sure, grabbing a few things from a truly great piece of fiction never hurt. A lot of what Ennis does with Fury is stuff we've seen before in the few times that Ennis has written Nick Fury in the past. He's always written him as a hard man, cruel and lonely, but usually one who recognises his place in the world. If possible, Fury wants to make the world better and make sure as few innocents die. The closest we saw to him not doing that was in the first Fury series Ennis did -- and that was the point. The character had gotten old and desperate for something. Here, he's still young and all he wants to do his job well and make the world 'better.' Often, he learns that he didn't. There's a sense that this is a history of Nick Fury's failures. His self-delusion that he was a good person in any way. That his actions had any nobility. He leaved Indo-China in one arc on the side of a man, returns two arcs later to kill him. What changed? Politics. Is there a point? Probably not.

Parlov is one of my favourite artists to work with Ennis. He draws hard men well. He draws violence well. His Nick Fury is a man of stone that looks more cracked as we go on. Old Fury narrating... that man is unhinged but we see that only around the edges sometimes. This is a messy comic and Parlov captures that. Much like no one can draw Ennis scenes of two men shooting the shit in a bar like Steve Dillon, few can draw violent Ennis comics like Parlov.

If I did a list for 2013 (and I won't), this would make it again most likely.

5. PUNK ROCK JESUS BY SEAN MURPHY AND TODD KLEIN! When you hear the title of this comic, you expect a certain type of comic. Maybe something akin to American Idiot by Green Day. Certainly something a bit more crude and actually focused on the eponymous character. Instead, it's a wide-ranging character piece that spends nearly half of the series looking at the people surrounding Chris, the reality show clone of Jesus. If anything, the main protagonist is Thomas, the bodyguard at the J2 project. A former member of the IRA, he's a believer in the possible divinity of Chris and tries his best to keep his depressed, alcoholic, regretful mother alive, fend off religious fanatics that hate the project, and all while keeping watch over a child raised to be the new Christ... who, as he grows, realises more and more that it's a crock of shit.

I regret that this comic didn't come out 15 years ago. My teenage self would have loved it. It would have topped his best of the year list no doubt. I grew up going to Catholic school and, in my teens, became a hardcore atheist. I'm still quite anti-religion. This comic speaks to that side of me. But, that alone wouldn't earn it a spot on this list. Sean Murphy's writing and art do that. Anyone can take cheap shots and trash religion -- not everyone can create compelling characters, complex situations that make you think and consider your position, and deliver gorgeous black and white art. I loved his work on Joe the Barbarian, but this was better. More than that, this was Vertigo doing something unexpected: giving him a complete comic with no ads in black and white. How great is that? Could every Vertigo comic be that?

Murphy builds the world in this series. He doesn't simply jump in and start throwing punches. He does the work, he develops his characters, and, when Chris becomes the "Punk Rock Jesus" of the title, it feels earned. It feels organic and true, not simply an easy way out. This series showed writing skills beyond what I thought we would be getting. Everything about this series seemed to be about destroying my lame expectations. Well done, Mr. Murphy.

4. BUILDING STORIES BY CHRIS WARE! It seems that one of the things that takes a work from simply being something I respect/admire and makes it something I love is the ability to connect with me on an emotional level. There are plenty of technically profficient books out there, but if I feel nothing (emotionally, intellectually), well, shit, what's the point? There's got to be something besides lines on the page. Chris Ware has always done that for me. He did it when I first read part of Building Stories when it was released as an edition of ACME Novelty Library and he did it again here. His character study is engrossing and so far-reaching that it's hard to escape.

So much was made of the format of Building Stories that I'm not sure that I have a lot to say there. I think it worked in some ways, not in others. I wasn't a big fan of the little fragment fold-outs. But, I got the point of them. He gave you two little pieces with no set beginning or end and that's the only way to present that material to accomplish that. You can't do that in a book and produce the same effect. That formalist experiment is a nice thing to think about and I would love to see it explored further. But, that doesn't mean that everything worked quite as well. It's cute to put one of your stories in a storybook-esque package... but to what end?

But, I came here to praise Ware, not bury him. His art stuns me. Just floors me. The way he designs pages and make everything work -- adds such warmth to his characters, is able to communicate what's going on in their heads... His style seems like it would be cold and impersonal, but it isn't. That never stops shocking me. It always defies my initial expectations that I can't seem to shake.

3. GØDLAND BY JOE CASEY, TOM SCIOLI, AND OTHERS! And it's not over yet! That's what I had to say. All of that in Gødland #36 -- the ultimate battle of cosmic life against entropy and that's not it! One of the biggest superhero comicbooks I've ever read. Something that felt like it Mattered and would remain a part of me forever... Or something. It was a single issue of brilliance. Of payoff for 35 issues that came before. I mean: ADAMAXIM! Page after big of big pictures of cosmic battle matched with Casey's narration at its most bombastic. This is comics! This is the sort of thing that reminds me of being a kid, of when these things meant the world to me instead of being stacks that I read through and add to other stacks. This is the sort of comic that, back then, I would have read and reread and reread and, damn, I should do that more often. The finale is coming. I should reread this comic many, many times. I should know every line, every word, every hue and shade...

The moment where Kafka Nickelhead steps out of reality... Like the last time we saw that, reality sits in a room with Kirby '70s comics. It's all filtered through that. But, that's this reality. What about the next? What about what's new?

Tom Scioli... Tom Scioli... that battle. The weightiness of his lines... the sense of import, of largess... how can he do that?

"LET THE HEAVENS FALL!"

"SYSTEM RESTORE"

I just want what happens next... what happens... next...

The new Gød replaces the old...

2. PROPHET BY BRANDON GRAHAM, SIMON ROY, GIANNIS MILONOGIANNIS, AND OTHERS! It's hard to see the shape of Prophet entirely. There's a war, the resurrection of the Earth empire, the awakening of its John Prophets... and a gathering of Old Man Prophet as the opposing force. So much is still unknown, but each issue is something new that I haven't seen before. Each issue brings more answers and more mysteries. Such touching moments of friendship and kindness fill these comics. The gathering of Old Man Prophet's group was nice. Old comrades coming together, remembering what it was like to be together, relearning, and enjoying one another's company. There's a bit of a 'hang out' book in Prophet. It's pacing is odd, but never not engaging.

Brandon Graham's imagination seems limitless as he comes up with new names and species and things that defy explanation. One of Old Man Prophet's closest allies is a sentient tree of some sort. But, really, he's just like anybody else. A surprise that shouldn't have been was the return of Die Hard. Graham makes good use of the universe he has to play with.

And each issue is geared towards the artist in question. What Simon Roy draws isn't what Giannis Milonogiannis draws isn't what Brandon Graham draws. All of these pieces fit together in such a way that it works incredibly well to have numerous artists that pick up different threads. I hope to see a jam issue one day if they can make that work logistically. Bring it all together is a mashup of different artists and styles. I wouldn't put it past them to give it a go.

Like I said, what really grips me is that every issue is a new experience. I never know what to expect and I have stopped expecting anything but surprise. No other comic can match that. No other comic fails to let me down like this one. It gives me what I didn't know I wanted until I got it.

1. THE BOYS BY GARTH ENNIS, RUSS BRAUN, DARICK ROBERTSON, JOHN MCCREA, KEITH BURNS, TONY AVINA, AND SIMON BOWLAND! Yes, The Boys. When compiling this list, no other comic cried out, demanding to be put atop like The Boys. It offered not one, but two fantastic conclusions this year. First, wrapping up the superheroes plot and, then, wrapping up business between Butcher and Hughie. It was an awful year of issues that broke my heart again and again. But, first Ennis concluded the superhero conflict as the supes descended on the White House and Butcher came face to face with the man who killed his wife. And he kills the bastard. Uses a crowbar to rip the top of his head off and pulls out chunks of brains. Because that's what you want to do to a man who raped your wife and impregnated her with a superhuman child that burst out of her like an alien. It's crude and nasty and so, so, so satisfying to see. I do love superhero comics, but I love hating superheroes, too, and, not since Marshal Law has a superhero murder been oh so lovely. The Boys do what they set out to do. The good guys win.

Until Billy Butcher does some nasty shit and things go south. And it keeps getting worse. Every issue is nothing but shock and gasps and heartbreak. Ennis plays off everything he can and do so masterfully. If there's something that man is great at, it's final storyarcs that just crush you and surprise you and leave you wanting more while hating him for what he does. Nobody does it better, honestly.

And, then, there's the final issue where Stillwell realises that he is fucked forever. And Hughie and Annie get a happy ending. I love happy endings. And I wanted this one more than any other. Garth Ennis may be a bastard of a writer, but he knows when to deliver the feel good moment. He much softer than people give him credit for and it's one of the reasons why he's one of my favourites.

While Darick Robertson returning for the final issue was nice, I will continue to be in awe of the way Russ Braun stepped onto the title when he did. It was so effortless the way he made the characters his own -- make the book his own. Robertson's return was appropriate, but didn't feel quite right. Then again, Braun got to draw the Hughie/Butcher finale and that was just fantastic.

The Boys was cheap and crude in its treatment of superheroes. But, it was funny and heartfelt and touching and true and right. I miss is quite a bit and I can't see that feeling ever going away completely.

Best of 2012: Pre-2012 Comics

Something that always seems to get lost in year-end lists is that no one experiences just new things. You always have a mix of new and old and the old always get lost. So, mixed in with my top ten comics of 2012, I will discuss five comics (in alphabetical order) that are from before 2012 that I read in 2012 and loved.

100% BY PAUL POPE! In the summer, my shop had a big sale and I picked up two Paul Pope hardcovers, Heavy Liquid and 100%. I was thinking about 'cheating' and including them both here, but decided to limit myself to just one. I love them both, but 100% edges out Heavy Liquid for reasons that I could never properly explain. I love the way 100% meanders from character to character, from story to story, and feels like Pope picked two random moments to begin and end. There's a real sense of being dropped into this world and then taken out at a whim. You want to know what happened before you got there and what happens after you leave. I mean, there are reasons why it begins and ends where it does... but forget that crap.

I'm amazed at the way that Pope interwaves these stories and makes them all compelling. In 'anthology' ensemble stories like this, there are usually ones you love, ones you hate, and then some that fall in the middle. I don't recall anything in this book that didn't grab me, didn't pull me along with the rest. I felt disappointment when he would leave characters and it would fade almost immediately because I was getting to see these other characters that I liked just as much. It's like going from hanging out with one groups of friends to another. A blessed life.

The world that Pope creates seems real. Things are different in the details, but close enough. The characters all seem like people you could meet. I don't know any of these people in my life, because I live a different sort of life from what's in 100%, but I've come across them in quick meetings. While I seem obsessed only with myself, I do love seeing people who aren't me and Pope makes them come alive. He's very good at leaving things unsaid, of creating a sense that there's history and depth in his characters.

And his art! Paul Pope's art... I don't even know what to say. Part of the way his characters look real is similar to what I said about Guerra's art in Scalped: they're kind of ugly and grotesque. And so are real people. Most artists draw generic beautiful people, while guys like Pope draw attractive, imperfect people. That works in harmony with his writing to create that sense of reality and depth that I spoke of. There's so much energy in Pope's art. They feel like his hand was struggling to keep up with his brain while not looking dashed off in any way. There's so much detail and nuance that I can open any page and see something that I haven't seen before. And I've looked at this book quite a bit.

But, why this comic specifically? It made for a nice evening reading it. I drank some coffee, had some music on, and lost myself in these pages. I didn't come out for days despite reading it all in a single evening.

CRÉCY BY WARREN ELLIS AND RAULO CACERES! I missed this when it came out for whatever reason or other. Ordered it when I pre-ordered Gun Machine by Ellis to reach the $25 free shipping mark. I had heard good things and I enjoyed this. I like the idea of an essay/long talk used in comics like this. Basically, a single character talking us through a situation above and beyond his station in a sense. Ellis used that technique again in Supergod and I would like to see more of it. It's similar to Harvey Pekar's approach to writing comics -- or something like Alice in Sunderland. But bigger than Pekar's comics and narrower than Talbot's. Somewhere in the middle. Crécy made me wonder if Ellis could pull this off at Marvel or DC with one of their superheroes. Not even would they let him try, but could he actually make it work. I don't know. I'd like to see him try. And have it not turn into some extended history lesson on the character in question. An issue-long recap. Fuck me.

No, could this form be used to tell an engaging story? It does here. There's warmth and humour and drama within this narrative -- and there's information. It's more than a simple lecture on what's going on at Crécy. The same thing happened with Supergod, except Ellis allowed himself to fall into the narrative a bit more there, if I recall correctly.

This comic gets a mention because it makes me wonder about stuff like this. Not many other comics did that this past year. Everyone do better.

THE METABARONS BY ALEJANDRO JODOROWSKY AND JUAN GIMENEZ! This is one fucked up comic. It deals with a topic that I find rather interesting when it comes up: the idea that a family line has to come first. One of the things I liked most about Gormenghast was the way it looked at that idea -- even season two of Justified explored that to an extent. The Metabarons deals with it rather explicitly, going so far as to introduce little rituals and bullshit codes into what being part of the family line means. Most people would see a couple of freak accidents that result in requiring cybernetic prosthetics as things to avoid in the future, but these insane people turn that into a requirement. Want to be the new Metabarons, you need to lose part of your body and, then, kill your dad. The final Metabaron is the only sane one when he decides that he will be the last Metabaron, ending that cursed, fucked up family forever. Of course, if he were serious, he would have committed suicide. But, he's a weak one that boy.

This is space opera, emphasis on the opera. Large, generational, dramatic, and so damn addicting. I had read parts of The Metabarons before this year, but the recent hardcover release (the smaller, cheaper hardcover) was the first time that I read the entire thing. I could barely put it down. Also, the way that the robots' story actually factored into the overall plot was great. The slow build to the reveal was very well done and surprising.

Juan Gimenez is amazing. I'm not always the biggest fan of painted art in sequential narratives, but it's hard to not love Gimenez. Though, as Tucker Stone said, it's hard to notice him too much when you're reading about these fucked up things Jodo is writing. You almost need to stop and force yourself to forget that he's drawing a scene of sci-fi incest to appreciate his actual art. I wish I gave it more attention, honestly. But, the writing distracts far too much. It's kind of hard to get over.

That generational story. That focus on the idea of the family line... it's compelling and something I've yet to tire of.

NEXUS OMNIBUS VOL. 1 BY MIKE BARON, STEVE RUDE, AND OTHERS! I heard great things and they were right. This was not at all what I was expecting. I was expecting something more superhero-y, I suppose. Instead, this reminded me a lot of Dreadstar in its tone. Not the art, but the feel of the series. That makes sense since they were done around the same time and, eventually, shared a home at First Comics. They were both series that took place in a cosmic setting with a protagonist that held certain superhero trappings. Nexus more obviously so, but Vanth Dreadstar became more and more like Superman as the series progressed. There was a lightness in both books contrasted with the extreme dark. In Nexus's case, it was his dreams and the compelling need to kill mass murderers. That sounds like a superhero, right? My kind of superhero, maybe...

There's a very freeform way to the way that Nexus is paced in these issues that's surprising. While the tone is similar to Dreadstar, the adherence to Starlin's issue-to-issue storytelling isn't there. There's a much looser feeling to this comic and a willingness to go where the story need to, damn what page it is. Also, Horatio Hellpop is a fantastic name.

The big appeal of this volume is watching Steve Rude become so good so quickly. I love his art now and watching him improve on an almost panel-by-panel basis is remarkable. He becomes more and more confident in his line work, more inventive in his approach to the page, and creates a visually stunning comic. The more confident he becomes, the looser the writing becomes, like Mike Baron knew he could trust Rude to keep things grounded and make it work. The 11th issue is a marked improvement over the 1st. You can't always say that. I can't wait for the second omnibus volume. Where will they go next? How good can this comic get?

"THE SPIDER-CLONE SAGA" BY MANY, MANY PEOPLE! When "The Spider-Clone Saga" was happening, I read some of the comics, but not nearly all of them. What kid is going to be able to buy four or five comics a month like that? And what kid, if they can, is going to focus exclusively on one group of titles -- no matter how interesting the story is. This year, I bought all of the trades for "The Spider-Clone Saga" along with the six volumes focused on Ben Reilly when he becomes Spider-Man. I haven't made it past the first volume of that set. I really enjoyed "The Spider-Clone Saga" material, though. I knew a decent chunk of it. It's a story that began strongly and had a smart end point with Ben becoming Spider-Man, allowing Peter and Mary Jane to go off and have their family. Things didn't work out that way in the end, but it was a good idea.

What struck me was how little Peter Parker and Ben Reilly interacted at first. They each dealt with their own problems and mostly stayed apart. Those issues were incredibly strong with Peter trying to stop being so lost inside of the Spider and Ben trying to figure out what he wants to do -- and who he wants to be. Where the books close their way is by focusing on the bullshit surround the clone stuff. Focusing on who is the real Peter Parker, introducing more clones, reintroducing the Jackal... oh, that stuff is just dreadful and is such a huge misstep. It's a big ball of "Who gives a fuck?" I certainly didn't all those teases and promises of answers did was turn a perfectly good story into something tedious and awful.

If they had kept it simple and contained with just Peter and Ben, it could have been a lot better. Stuff like "Maximum Cloneage" was so misguided, so wrongheaded. I found it cool as a kid, but really bad as an adult.

This year, I plan to finish it by reading the Ben Reilly stuff. Those books are on the shelf beneath the Kirby stuff.