What If We Kissed on the Blue Area of the Moon? 05 – What If...? Spider-Man #1

“What if Kraven survived his ‘last hunt’?” by JM DeMatteis, Yildiray Çinar, Alex Sinclair, and Joe Caramagna

What If...? Spider-Man #1 is a bit of an anomaly in this year’s crop of What If...? issues in that the writer of it is the writer of the story it’s jumping off from. JM DeMatteis wrote the famous “Kraven’s Last Hunt” story and, here, returns to present an alternate version where, instead of rising from the grave and defeating Kraven to reclaim his life, Peter Parker rises but is dramatically (and understandably) affected by the experience of being buried alive, suffering a mental break, which allows Kraven to continue on as the new Spider-Man. Unlike a lot of What If...? stories, though, because DeMatteis is the original writer, even when breaking from the established continuity, what ensues here feels like it genuinely could have been the rest of the story of “Kraven’s Last Hunt.” If this was released as the ‘true’ conclusion that DeMatteis had pitched and Marvel rejected, you’d almost believe it except for how compressed it plays out to fit in a single issue (and Kraven actually killing Spider-Man villains). Suffice it to say, this is the best 2026 What If...? comic by quite a distance.

One of my favourite approaches to What If...? stories is when the writer takes the original story and applies a bit of realism to how things played out. Granted, sometimes, this can be a little frustrating, like in the What If...? Civil War issue where Captain America and Iron Man talk things out like mature adults with a long friendship; for the most part, it’s an easy way to both lean into ‘darker’ ideas and make the What If...? story seem like a plausible alternative. We all know that superhero comicbooks are far from realistic and, far too often, the demands of the larger idea of these characters as immortal franchises outweighs any concept of realism, so getting to see stories play out in a manner more in line with how people would act/react is refreshing. Peter climbing out of his grave and defeating Kraven is a fantastic climax to “Kraven’s Last Hunt,” one that never comes off as too far-fetched within the context of the story; however, an alternate where he’s left broken and requiring psychiatric help to return to normal feels equally valid. (The amount of experiences that should have left Peter Parker with a mental breakdown that requires months or years to repair... I’m looking at you, House of M!)

That logical storytelling applies to everything that follows. With Peter’s mental state, that leaves Kraven confronting the truth that he was never fighting against ‘the Spider,’ some sort of mythical god-like being whose power he could claim as his own, it’s just a man. When he tries to repeat the same process with Vermin and kills the seeming monster, the reversion to its human form after death has Kraven similarly empty. It’s not until he confronts Dr. Octopus and kills him that he gains a purpose: being the new Spider-Man and ridding the world of his various recurring enemies – hunting the villains. Meanwhile, Peter’s stay at Doctor Kafka’s Center is yielding slow progress that’s interfered with by the return of the Symbiote. If there’s one part of this story to nitpick, it’s how the Symbiote returns when, in regular continuity, it immediately sought out Eddie Brock after Peter finally expelled it completely. That’s where this feels much more like an alternate ending conceived at the time of the story before the retcon creation of Eddie Brock/Venom occurred than a true looking back What If...?

From there, the story plays out pretty much how you’d expect given the original story and what’s been shown here: Peter, bonded with the Symbiote again thanks to his weakened mental state, breaks out and goes after Kraven. In the ensuing fight, Kraven offers himself up to the Symbiote as a more suitable host and, then, stuns with the Symbiote with his traumatic memories, and then poisons them both to give his life to kill the Symbiote. More than the original story, this one is aimed at a redemptive arc for Kraven as he confronts the truth about Spider-Man, Peter Parker, and himself.

Yildiray Çinar replaces Mike Zeck from “Kraven’s Last Hunt,” and delivers a visually stunning performance. While his style is a bit rougher in the line work, that adds to the unsettling feeling of the story. In numerous places, the use of repetitive panels to show a gradual chance is brought back, showing Çinar’s panel-to-panel storytelling is up to the task of delivering this alternate take on a classic story. Given the nature of the story, there isn’t much ‘new’ that Çinar needs to come up with or redesign. The closest we get is the new version of the Peter/Symbiote bond, which is more Venom-looking than the previous pairing. That choice for visual (along with replacing the white parts of the costume with red) shows how much more control the Symbiote has in this bonding. The page where we see the new pairing is stunning with a big panel of them swinging through the New York rooftops and, then, entering Kraven’s mansion with a fantastic four-panel sequence of them slowly lowering from the ceiling upside down with each successive panel revealing more and more of the Symbiote-dominate side of the character. Where Çinar really excels is in the frantic action of the final confrontation with Kraven as Peter re-asserts himself, refusing to kill the man who buried him alive and left his mind shattered.

In the end, Peter’s return to Spider-Man isn’t confirmed but heavily implied (Alex Sinclair colouring his vest/shirt/jeans outfit at Kraven’s grave in a way to visually allude to the original Spider-Man costume is nice, subtle touch) as is Kraven’s return from the dead. All in all, as I’ve said, what makes this issue work so well is how much it feels like it could have been the published issue (or issues if expanded) for the original story. Given how beloved “Kraven’s Last Hunt” is with fans, DeMatteis returning to it like this could have been a massive disappointment; instead, it’s the best What If...? issue not only of this year, but for a long while.

Stomping on a Box that I Thought was Empty 01 – Queen in Black #1, Queen in Black: Defenders of Light and Dark #1, and Queen in Black: Hela #1

It’s probably not a great sign when your next big event starts four weeks late. You probably don’t want that to be the first thing that people talk about either. You want people to talk about the spectacle and how cool it is and how fantastic the writing is and the amazing art – or Hel, in this case, the blind bag promotion for the first issue. (If you’re curious, I did grab a blind bag since the cost was the same and I got the David Marquez cover with Knull fighting the Defenders of Dark... plus Spider-Man...?) It’s meant to be hype, hype, more hype, and did I mention the motherfucking hype! Instead, you’ve got people like me watching as releases get pushed and moved as the first issue is pushed by four weeks to the point where the second issue is somehow coming out the following week. I always find it laughable-but-somewhat-expected when events begin slipping their schedule as they go, because these seem like the one group of titles that you’d think publishers would ensure hit their deadlines. Events are all moving pieces and, theoretically, purposefully thought out in how those pieces fit together, and scheduled as such. You can’t have tie-in A come out before main event issue B because it will spoil the big reveal. When I do my reading lists for events, I always base them entirely around the main event book and what happens in it. What’s funny is, I sometimes wonder if I take more care and thought with those reading lists than publishers do with their release schedules. That surely can’t be possible, but I have two decades of paying attention to events that say otherwise. I mean, there was a brief moment where Queen in Black #1 got pushed to this week and Marvel hadn’t officially rescheduled Queen in Black: Hela #1 from its original release date of last week, and I was left strongly hoping that we’d get a tie-in originally meant to come out three weeks after the first issue of the event the week before the first issue. Alas, you know?

Funnily enough, it wouldn’t have made much of a difference had Queen in Black: Hela #1 come out before Queen in Black #1. Upon finishing all three books for the event this week, I turned my thoughts towards an eventual reading order and, for a second, wondered if I’d put Queen in Black: Hela #1 in the spot of ‘prologue’ issue given that it’s entirely devoted to explaining Hela’s plan and actions leading up to Queen in Black #1. To be honest, I’m still undecided, which is fine because reading orders aren’t produced until the event is over and you can see how everything unfolds. What I didn’t expect is how essential the Queen in Black: Hela issue felt to providing context to Queen in Black #1. If, like me, you haven’t been paying attention to the Symbiote side of the Marvel Universe and are only tuning in here because you’re a Thor obsessive, then you probably have no idea how or why any of this happening – and the first issue of the event doesn’t make much efforts to clue you in.

Now, I don’t necessarily hold that against Queen in Black #1. I come from the school of thought that not answering every question or providing the full context of events in a comicbook is somewhat desirable. Growing up, I would often get random issues off the spinner racks at convenience stores or even the local comic shop, and those dangling threads were where imagination thrived. As long as you could understand (and enjoy) the story presented, then those other details were things to seek out and learn rather than complain about not being shoehorned into the issue via unnecessary expository text. What we’re left asking is if Queen in Black #1 is good enough to be viewed through that lens or not.

The premise of Queen in Black is both simple and obtuse in that you think that it should actually be about something involving the heroes of Earth, but it’s not. Basically, Knull was the King in Black, got defeated, tried to take back his throne when he replacement was deposed, and Hela took it instead, exiling him to the realm of light or something like that, thinking that it would take him off the board, but, instead, he took that power for himself, and, now, both Knull and Hela want to conquer Earth in their schemes to kill the other. Why? We don’t actually know. I’m not sure the why matters. This is the story of two gods fighting over who gets to conquer and use Earth for their own purpose. In the grandest tradition of Jim Starlin, Al Ewing is writing a cosmic event where the bulk of Earth’s heroes don’t actually matter except that they’re who should be in the story. I imagine, as it goes along, it will be Symbiote-themed heroes and maybe some Asgardians who actually do anything of any true import.

Now, Queen in Black: Hela actually spells out Hela’s goals for Earth (turn it into a Norn Stone, carve a Rune of Fate into it, and become so powerful that she can rule the Realms and destroy Asgard) except those goals don’t truly mean anything. Like so many evil schemes, the endgame is a MacGuffin to enable the story. Knowing what Hela has planned for the aftermath of defeating the heroes and conquering Earth is trivia nothing more. Only if she actually wins (or has some approximation of winning) and begins to enact those goals will they be material to the story.

Once you get that it’s two opposing forces of evil fighting one another for the right to fight the heroes of Earth, that’s all you need. And, in the first issue of Queen in Black, Hela gets there first and much of the issue is spent fighting her Symbiote forces as the heroes of Earth learn that they were mistaken in thinking it was Knull invading Earth as initially suspected. Oh, I guess more context is required, because that reveal only works if you know about what happened in the final issue of Immortal Thor where Skurge destroyed the bridge connecting Asgard to Utgard and, in the process, destroyed the Bifrost that Loki had repaired using magic that bound it to the other bridge – and, in the process, cut the Nine Realms off from Midgard (Earth), turning Asgard back into a place of myth, rewriting history in the process. No one remembers Thor as an Avenger or superhero (Beta Ray Bill has taken his place in history) and that means no one (save Bill) knows who Hela is (which is how she defeated Knull to take his throne).

While readers always know more than the characters (except for when information is withheld for dramatic/story purposes), Queen in Black is an odd event because we know who the main antagonist is, know her history, and she’s a fairly familiar character... and the heroes have no idea who she is. Except that also has no impact on the story, honestly, because her invasion forces are various Symbiotes bonded with different races from across the universe and that’s pretty much what was expected if it were Knull. There’s meant to be a differentiation in methods with Hela’s gathering of forces more subtle than Knull would be and that doesn’t totally land. It largely reads like “Oh, it’s not Knull, it’s someone with his powers who uses a bunch of Symbiotes just like him! And, damn, Knull is back with a light-based powerset and crystal-looking Symbiotes who don’t need hosts!”

It’s pile upon pile of details that make no difference to the story. It’s all blah blah blah dialogue that’s full of nouns and verbs and adjectives that try to make this seem more complicated than what it is. This is a big dumb summer event and don’t let anyone trick you into thinking otherwise. How much you’ll enjoy it is mostly based on your appetite for Symbiotes.

*

The third issue for this event released this week, Queen in Black: Defenders of Light and Dark #1, is a little frustrating. The two Defenders teams are alluded to in Queen in Black #1 when Cable recruits Agent Anti-Venom and the concept is somewhat clever: a team of ‘light’ heroes to attack Hela and a team of ‘dark’ heroes to attack Knull. When it comes to events, balance is a delicate concept to manage. How much to include in the main book versus how much to farm out to various tie-ins. Some events are easier than others, conceptually, to balance things. An event like Avengers vs. X-Men could shunt as many fights between members of the two groups that had no material impact on the larger story to the tie-ins. Here, the two teams engaging with the primary antagonists is taken out of the core series (unless scenes pop up in the second issue) and placed firmly in this tie-in. It strikes me as a little backward from what we see in Queen in Black #1.

The main physical conflicts in that issue are between the heroes of Earth and various Symbiote landing forces across the globe. While important, those are the sort of fight scenes that seem like they would normally be shown in detail in tie-ins, while direct engagement with the two primary antagonists of the story seem more like core book material. Granted, this event is structured a little differently from many events. Currently, there are 17 issues in this event with only four being issues of ongoing titles that exist outside of the event (three issues of Venom and one of Black Cat). The remaining 13 are all mini-series and one-shots that exist only as part of this event. While it isn’t guaranteed that everyone buying the Queen in Black core series is buying everything else, it’s not unreasonable to think that a large portion of those readers will be doing so. Going back to Avengers vs. X-Men, that was an event with a core series, two mini-series and one one-shot created for it (and one of the minis was the epilogue series), and the rest of the tie-ins were all issues of pre-existing ongoing series. While not told in a prescribed reading order with specific chapter labels, Queen in Black is a large story where you seemingly need everything, making the tie-ins more an extension of the core series than related-but-inessential tangents. After all, all but four issues in this event are written or co-written by Al Ewing; this is firmly his show.

However, Defenders of Light and Dark is still a side attraction, making the confrontations with Hela and Knull necessarily unsatisfactory and possibly deadly for the two groups of heroes. As odd as it is for the first direct contact with the two antagonists to occur here, that it does tells us that these fights are borderline meaningless. I said above that Ewing looks like he may be following in the footsteps of Starlin’s events and this has the look of Infinity War where there are all of these tie-ins and fights and side quests for the non-cosmic heroes and they’re all pointless. Only the Magus, Adam Warlock, and Thanos really matter for the purposes of the story and, if you took out everything that wasn’t them, you’d have a solid three or so issues, at best. I get the feeling that all non-Symbiote and, possibly, Asgardian characters fill the same roles here, making the likes of Cloak and Dagger, Darkstar, and even Iron Man somewhat superfluous. There to add some, hopefully, interesting story and fill space.

The trio of artists for the opening salvo of this event, Iban Coello, Zé Carlos, and Carlos Magno all share a fondness for melodrama in their art. Everything is big and exaggerated, yet heavily detailed. The credits aren’t clear in Queen of Black #1 if Carlos does some inking or contributes pencils/inks as the Coello and Carlos are jointly credited as ‘artists,’ but Carlos also draws Defenders of Light and Dark, giving a natural relationship between the two books visually, further supporting the idea that the tie-ins here are a little more ‘essential’ to the overall flow of the story. Going into this, I wasn’t familiar with any of these artists and found they’re all suited the sort of big, dumb event that Queen in Black clearly is. With gods and Symbiotes, you need artists not afraid to push things beyond the realm of realism, willing to opt for ‘cool’ over ‘makes sense.’ Magno, on the Hela issue, has a more intricate line than the other two that fits a more Asgardian-focused issue – yet there are plenty of big panels of Hela being arch as fuck. What I love is that there is a unified sensibility at the core, something far too many events lack.

*

Getting back to the delays in this event getting started, if you examine the original solicits/schedule for the event, it went:

July 1: Queen in Black #1

July 8: Queen in Black: Defenders of Light and Dark #1, Queen in Black: Hela #1, and Venom #260

July 15: Queen in Black: Venom Unchained #1

July 29: Queen in Black #2

Now, the first three titles all got shifted to July 29, the last two to August 5 (so I guess read Venom Unchained #1 before Queen in Black #2?) and Venom #260 isn’t coming out until August 12, over a month late (on the same day as Queen in Black: Thor #1, which got pushed back a week). For the most part, this delay hasn’t messed with things too much with only Venom #260 being shifted well beyond its original window/placement. It was meant to be among the first wave of tie-ins with the two that came out this week and, now, it won’t come out until the week after Queen in Black #2. However, the good news is, currently, looking ahead, things will largely get on track. Of course, that’s presuming no further delays/schedule changes. What I’m mindful of is that, if this is an event where the pieces of story are somewhat carefully arranged/planned, we won’t be getting an early part until much later than intended and that will alter the reading experience. 

If you look at the three issues that came out this week, we got the first issue of the core series, which was meant to debut on its own and, then, two tie-ins that fleshed out elements of the core issue. Defenders of Light and Dark has the initial attempt to take Hela and Knull on directly, while Hela has the full story of how Hela went from ruler of Hel to Queen in Black and what her plan in. The solicitation for Venom #260 suggests that it would expand on Dylan Brock’s (and other Symbiote heroes?) story. Given that Queen in Black #1 spent a lot of time on their efforts to fight the invading Symbiotes, right up to their failure to prevent the unleashing on a different, dangerous Symbiote at the very end of the issue, it definitely seems like that issue won’t necessarily work as well after Queen in Black #2. But, we’ll see.

Next week: Queen in Black: Venom Unchained #1 and Queen in Black #2 (I guess, given the initial release schedule, read them in that order)

What If We Kissed on the Blue Area of the Moon? 04 – What If...? Jessica Jones #1

“What if Jessica Jones was bitten by the radioactive spider?” by Justina Ireland, David Messina, Brian Reber, and Joe Sabino

Ah fuck, whatever, man. Look, there are some strong bits in this issue, pretty much any of the flashbacks to the time right after Jessica Jones got bitten by the radioactive spider instead of Peter Parker. And I do admire the central conceit being that Peter Parker is a selfish prick who only overcame that particular brand of nasty solipsism thanks to the death of his uncle. But, most of this comic is predictable mediocrity that does very little interesting with the concept. Spoiler alert: Jessica was just as terrible at being a superhero here as in the regular Marvel Universe and ends up in basically the same place as a result. Hey, I admire the whole idea of sticking to the character and all, but, I do have one question: what’s the point of this comic?

In the history of What If...? there have been numerous issues where the broad concept is that some characters can’t escape their fate or themselves. Stories where everything is different and, yet, somehow someway the character in question still lands in the same situation that we’re familiar with in the regular 616. Usually, there’s some ironic twist baked in or some tragic outcome, and I suppose Jessica’s family getting blown up or her teenage crush trying to goad her into putting the mask on by mimicking her worst enemy could qualify... but it doesn’t feel like it. It feels like an ending where she suggests becoming a PI to Misty Knight and everything is converging with the regular comics. It feels like there are no real stakes or that Jessica’s shit life hasn’t been replaced with a remarkably similar-looking shit life.

Like nothing matters.

To a certain extent, that is the message of What If...? Uatu watches the world we mostly read our comics about, but he also watches all of these. These endless stories about endless variations where one thing changes and life still goes on. How many does he see where a seemingly important moment in time is dramatically changed and, yet, the ending is the same? Uatu watches as fate is unavoidable. Free choice is an illusion. Nurture versus nature is the fight that obscures the truth. Some would call that bleak; others reassuring. All I know for sure is that it doesn’t necessarily make for a good comicbook. It mostly makes me wonder how this was worth the cover price of $4.99 (and that’s USD... as a Canadian, that price gets raised via a very unfriendly exchange rate) and why I keep reading this year’s crop of What If...? comics and finding them so lacking, in general...

In a sense, there isn’t a lot different between this issue and What If...? Secret Wars #1 where it also ended with a hint towards converging with how things roughly played out in existing comics. In that case, it was the original Ultimate Universe continuing under the somewhat watchful eye of the god of the multiverse, the Maker, and eventually giving birth to a resistance in the form of the Ultimates ala the second Ultimate Universe. But, I found that ending charming and a little clever. I guess that’s because the route was surprising and somewhat logical. While the route that What If...? Jessica Jones #1 takes to a familiar place is logical, it’s hardly surprising. The journey itself is tedious. The ‘big reveal’ of Peter Parker is obvious and Jessica’s adult life is too much of a retread of the regular MU. Put simply: one comic had ambition, the other did not. And holy fuck will I overlook a lot of faults in an ambitious comic...

I’ve been surprised at the class of artists on this crop of What If...? comics. We’ve had some serious talent wasted on mediocre-to-bad scripts and David Messina is the newly wasted talent. The moment they saw his ‘retro’ pages come in, why did no one think to rewrite the whole thing to take place in the past? Moreover, that’s the only time Justina Ireland’s writing approaches anything like charming. Every page that takes place in the past overshadows every page that doesn’t by a large margin and it only serves to make the issue all the more frustrating to read. The rest of the issue feels like a dry walk-through that’s compulsory somehow.

The final insult: everyone involved seems to know all of this to a certain extent. The final word of the issue is given to Uatu: “NO MATTER THE PATH IT MUST TAKE, DESTINY ALWAYS FINDS ITS TRUE COURSE.” But, we’d already seen a whole comic that was the barest of changes for Jessica. Pretty easy to find the ‘true course’ of destiny when nothing matters.

What If We Kissed on the Blue Area of the Moon? 03 – What If...? Secret Wars #1

“What if the Ultimate Universe survived the Secret Wars?” by Alex Paknadel, Cafu, David Curiel, and Ariana Maher

Three in and only now finding its way, this latest revival of What If...? I don’t know, it’s my instinct to nitpick and that’s where my mind goes immediately despite this being an improvement over the first two issues. What we have here is pretty much a Proper What If...? comic that follows Proper What If...? logic to tell a Proper What If...? story. In as much as we can call it a story. That’s where I keep lingering. That it isn’t really a good story. For all that What If...? Secret Wars #1 does right, it doesn’t actually do much more than pitch a high concept. Plenty of What If...? issues have fallen into that trap, mind. Come up with a clever idea and focus more on the cleverest way to convey that clever idea, never mind if the story is actually good or told well. But, I’m a tough audience.

Alex Paknadel gets one big thing right in What If...? Secret Wars #1 and it’s following the logic of what this comic is meant to be. As I’ve harped on over the first two installments of this look at these comics, the way What If...? works is that there is a point of divergence (usually the question that Uatu the Watcher asks) and, from that point, the issue plays out, but still follows the vague logic of a Marvel comic. Bad versions of this just do whatever the fuck they want like “What if Peter Parker got bitten by Dracula?” and, then, suddenly, Adam Warlock vampire hunter appears out of nowhere like that makes a lick of sense. This issue changes the ending of Secret Wars and proceeds from there in a logical fashion. However, like this year’s What If...? Thor #1, it kind of has a secret question at its heart and that’s the big twist that overshadows the issue. It’s a bit of a subtle tweak that is what leads to the Ultimate Universe surviving: What if the Maker didn’t betray Mr. Fantastic? That lack of betrayal meant that it was both Reed Richards confronting Doom and the one to emerge with the godlike powers was the Maker, not Mr. Fantastic – meaning, the multiverse is now being managed/rebuilt by the Maker, hence why his home Universe survived.

It’s a clever twist that the entire issue revolves around. Paknadel follows the logic of the real comics by having Peter Parker survive similar to Miles due to their kindness to the Molecule Man and uses his presence in the Ultimate Universe to analyse its differences to the regular Marvel Universe. It’s a darker, more chaotic place. More violent. Crueler. Highlighted are the endless events of mass destruction as Parker learns the history of the world as part of Nick Fury’s pitch to recruit him to SHIELD, where he operates at the Scarlet Spider. It gets darker when Peter’s physiology turns against him in this world and the radioactive blood in his veins gives him cancer. Learning that the interdimensional portal that could take him back to his universe is actually still active, Miles and Ultimate Peter’s friends team up to get Peter to it... and that’s the big reveal for the Maker and that Peter’s universe is no more. From there, it’s a bit of a lecture on the nature of the Ultimate Universe and it’s chaotic, destructive nature, and that leads into a tease where it suggests the birth of the Ultimates ala the second, recently-ended Ultimate Universe.

I admire the larger ideas at play and the core idea at the heart of the point of deviation (the Maker’s betrayal of Mr. Fantastic actually occurs after the defeat of Doom instead of before), and even the way it seeks to play off the concept of the second Ultimate Universe with the Maker trying to improve upon his home universe. But, as a story, it doesn’t quite hold together. Peter is told the portal is destroyed instead of simply that it’s being used to monitor the Maker, and the ensuing conflict that destroys the Triskelion is there just to prove the point that the superhumans on the world will eventually destroy it – there’s no real logic at the core of this, though, except as a way to showcase the big twist.

What I’ve been pondering is if that’s a problem or not. Like I said, plenty of What If...? stories are no more than a high concept wearing the bare minimum of compelling storytelling. The core appeal of the comic is the clever high concept and the twists that come with it. In that regard, Paknadel nails it. You read the question for the issue and you think, perhaps, it’s Mr. Fantastic showing a kindness and restoring the Ultimate Universe, and Paknadel delivers a much better explanation, gives a quick thesis on the nature of the Ultimate Universe, and ties it into the second one. I mean, how can you not be a little impressed? Even the lack of a compelling story logic can be handwaved away to a certain extent by muttering a few words about how Nick Fury is a bastard who doesn’t trust Peter or was worried about his mental state if he learned his entire universe was no more. Still.

A few words about Cafu, an artist that I’ve long been an admirer of, going back at least to his work with Nick Spencer on THUNDER Agents for DC... He’s always struck me as bit of a cross between the weird not-quite-right realistic elements of Gary Frank and the cartooning of Frank Quitely. In this issue, the former remains, but the latter is excised as it seems like he tries to channel some Bryan Hitch bits here and there. It fits well for the Ultimate Universe, but also the way that Paknadel’s story plays up the dark elements of it. Things don’t look right. They look realistic but also twisted and a little freaky. We’re told that this is a bit of a universe-gone-wrong and it looks that way. I can’t think of a better choice of artist, honestly.

This issue comes pretty damn close to hitting all of the notes for a What If...? comic, save a story that really stands on its own. But, I’m a sucker for clever high concepts and great visuals. I hope this isn’t the high point of these issues as we’ve got five more to go... 

Looking at the Bigger Picture: Thorsday Thoughts on The Art of The Mighty Thor

I’ll be honest, I never really know what exactly to do with art books. If you’ve followed my writing about comics for any length of time, it’s easy to tell that I’m very writer-focused. While I’ve tried many times to overcome this flaw in my approach, it never quite sticks. I’d loved to lay it on my interest in looking at broad bodies of work by writers or big runs focused on a character where artists aren’t consistent on an issue to issue basis, but it’s really just the way I’m wired and prefer to look at things. But, as anyone will tell you, comics are a visual medium and this remains a fundamental flaw for me that I continue to work on however incrementally. And, I mean, I love comics art. For all that I direct my thoughts and energy to the writing (which is contributed to in a major way by the art, of course, but that muddiness always trips me up), if there’s something that’s going to wow me in a comic, 99 times out of 100, it’s an image. So, I’ve slowly, when the opportunity arises, taken to getting art-focused books like the Jim Starlin Artist Edition of his Warlock run or the Artisan Edition of Walt Simonson’s Thor or even the DC WIP edition of All-Star Superman #1 (and told my shop I want the upcoming editions for The Dark Knight Returns #1 and Watchmen #1). Usually, what holds me back is cost... and the knowledge that I’ll look through these books and struggle a little with what else to do with him.

Books that present original art are a challenge for me to engage with, to a degree. While I can look through and enjoy the art, maybe even read the story in this form, I usually feel like there’s more I can be getting out of them. Some other level of meaning and appreciation that I lack. Not simply the expertise in visual art, which would obviously provide a greater insight, but just something... more. Something extra. Something that’s lacking. Yet, I persist, because... well, them sure are a lot of purdy pictures.

My latest foray into books of this sort is Dark Horse’s The Art of The Mighty Thor, which came out in early June, and is focused on the works on Jack Kirby and Walt Simonson. It’s less a new release than a compilation/combination of each artist’s previous Artist Edition Thor releases from IDW, taking two issues from the Kirby book and four from the Simonson one to reproduce here along with the odd other piece of art and some covers. If you already own those other releases, there’s not much here for you, I imagine, besides Simonson and the editor’s introductions, and the desire to just have another edition. Between editions, there are some notable changes from what I can discern, with mixed results.

I only have the softcover Artisan Edition of Simonson’s Thor to compare. While The Art of The Mighty Thor is larger in dimensions than it, it’s also smaller than the full hardcover Artist Edition releases (or Artifact Editions – see picture to judge dimensions of various releases from the giant Kirby Is... Mighty! hardcover down to the regular trade paperback release), which is still large but not unwieldy. How much the size of the page matters versus how easy the book is to manage physically is a tough one to navigate. Too big and the book is a bit of a burden to actually sit down and engage with; too small and it loses the ability to really showcase the desired details. The Art of The Mighty Thor manages to hit that middle ground nicely as it seems like it’s trying to satisfy both the hardcore and maybe the more regular coffee table book lover.

Which probably explains the focus on only Kirby and Simonson.

I’ll admit that this release is more of a ‘best of’ release of their two previous original art reproduction books is a little frustrating. Admittedly, those previous releases are out of print and only available second-hand for inflated prices, so I get wanting to get them back into print and doing a book with both Kirby and Simonson hits the two ‘high points’ of Thor art as generally accepted by the masses. More than that, the scans of the original art already exist, making this an easier book to put together than searching for additional/previously unreleased art to use. So, I get it.

But.

There remains a part of me that would have liked a book titled The Art of The Mighty Thor to go beyond these two artists who have long been held in such high esteem on the title so as to overshadow everyone else. When you’ve got artists like John Buscema, Sal Buscema, Ron Frenz, Mike Deodato, John Romita, Jr., Stuart Immonen, Olivier Coipel, Esad Ribić, Russell Dauterman, Pasqual Ferry, and so many others over the years to choose from, there’s a lack here. Especially when you account for the previous Kirby and Simonson books. There’s the I get it element fighting up against the Yeah but one.

Moving past that and getting into choices made with the material at hand. Comparing the Simonson Artisan Edition to this, the level of detail you can see in the reproduction is much better in this edition. The way that the use of white out is highlighted is so much easier to see intricately than what’s visible in the pages in the Artisan Edition. I’m sure there’s still minute details lost to the process, but that element of production is top notch here. What I struggle with is the amount of each page we’re given. In the Artist(isan) Editions, the pages are reproduced in full in that the whole art board is shown, beyond the actual dimensions of the comic page drawing, so you can see the top notation for the comic/issue/page and any border notes. In The Art of The Mighty Thor, they zoom in to have the art mirror how the comic looks as much as possible with beyond-the-borders barely visible. In the Simonson pages, this isn’t a huge deal as there are barely any notations there; the Kirby pages are another story. Kirby frequently wrote story/dialogue notes in the margins of the pages for Stan Lee to reference when scripting the issue to know what Kirby’s intent was. Those sorts of details are a big part of the appeal of books like this, that ability to peek into the creative process and see where Kirby’s intent and Lee’s execution was the same and where it differed. Losing those notations is such a baffling choice. It’s probably the biggest flaw with this book and, as far as editorial choices go, one of the worst I’ve seen when it comes to a project like this.

The other choice that I really question and, here we get into the question of what this book is. After all, it isn’t simply an Artist(isan) or Artifact Edition like what IDW put out. It’s titled The Art of The Mighty Thor, emphasising the idea of showcasing art. Not original art pages... art. So, bookending the Kirby issues shown here and following the Simonson ones are cover collections for each artist’s Thor runs (Journey into Mystery is completely excluded, which is another choice, of course). Some covers are given the full page treatment, while others are put three or four to a page. There’s a mixture of original art reproductions and coloured-as-printed images depending on the availability of the original art for each cover. Frustrating, to me, is that not every original art reproduction is given the full page treatment, while some colour images of the printed covers are. To me, the original art reproductions should all get their own page, while the others can be crammed three or four to a page at smaller sizes, even if that means shuffling the order a little. That five of the six covers for the issues reproduced here have their original art available and those images are shrunk to accommodate additional text about the ensuing comic is also a disappointing choice. I understand where that one is coming from, but a different solution should have been found so those covers can be seen as large as possible.

(A minor idea that I would have liked: maybe with some covers or pages, give a few examples of the original art next to the printed comic to really highlight what’s different. Not required, but one of those ‘would have been nice’ things that I couldn’t help but think about, particularly when seeing the colour printed covers included.)

The last choice I’d like to quickly touch on is the choice of issues selected here: for Kirby, it’s Thor annual #2 and Thor #134; for Simonson, it’s Thor #337-340. That means, what’s left out of previous collections are: for Kirby, it’s Journey into Mystery #111, 117, and 118 along with Thor #135; for Simonson, it’s Thor #360-362. We’ll assume that there was a relatively hard page count for this release that Dark Horse was aiming to hit and that’s an understandable concern. We also know that there’s the choice to limit this book to art from Thor, so the Journey into Mystery work is necessarily excluded. The page limit means losing the three additional Simonson issues makes sense, but I can’t see the argument for losing Thor #135. Coupled with the cover gallery choice, I know I would have rather had that additional Kirby issue included than the covers – and to balance out the Simonson ‘half’ of the book a bit more. An annual and two regular issues against four regular issues is a pretty fair split. I’d love to know why it was left out and hope there was something better than page count/price point as the reason.

All of that would suggest that I’m unhappy with the book when that’s far from true. It’s really that books like this invite diving into the details of editorial and production choices – and it’s important to highlight that those choices exist and impact the experience of the book. Some great choices are the inclusion of additional art peppered through the introductions by Simonson and the editors. One that really stood out to me was a piece that Simonson did for an ad in Marvel Age #6 to hype Thor #337 showing Beta Ray Bill holding Mjolnir and decked out in his full Thor-esque costume. If the art looks familiar, that’s because Simonson repurposed it in Thor #339 for the reveal of Beta Ray Bill after he pulls Stormbreaker from the forge for the first time. Comparing the two pieces, you can see how white out was used to help change Mjolnir into Stormbreaker, how Bill’s glove was changed to the gauntlet required to grab the hammer, and even how the date next to Simonson’s signature is taken out. It’s a neat look into the behind the scenes process that went into this amazing page.

Actually, thanks to the quality production, it’s the huge use of white out that really leaps off the page. Just how much it was used to correct or accentuate the art cannot be understated. It’s kind of surprising how each page is peppered with small and large corrections/alterations. Or even details like the cover to Thor #362 where you can see the pasting on of a new version of Skurge’s arm holding the gun. Those small details are so fun to examine – for me, more the ones where it’s alterations to add additional details, like using white out to highlight the lines on the Destroyer’s armour in parts where there’s black shading.

Engaging with the art of Kirby and Simonson itself... For Kirby, what stands out to me is the variety in his approaches. We tend to think of Kirby, particularly on Thor, as these big bold lines heavy with power and force. While that’s true, there’s often these moments of contrast and intricate detail that leaps off the page. When the High Evolutionary is using a wolf in his experiments, the line work on the wolf is so fine and un-Kirby-like that it’s lost in the final comic a bit by the colours. Here, it pops off the page for the purposeful choice that it is. In these original pages, you get a better sense of the space being used. That’s probably what stands out in Simonson’s pages the most, for me. Like Kirby, he’s so good at singular images that work on their own and in their larger context, but there are these moments where he uses the space of the page and individual panel so well to create an effect. Or the way ‘incomplete’ renderings both suggest the final image and add the element of energy as desired. The interplay of what’s drawn, what’s not, what’s suggested, and what’s left entirely alone is so much more apparent here.

What I’m left with is a book that I’m sure I’ll return to again and again despite my nit-picky critiques of some choices. Even as much as I disagree with some of those choices, they can’t overwhelm just how lovely it is to flip through these pages and luxuriate in the work of these two masters. Every time I do, I see something new, pick up a new detail, linger over a new panel for longer than before. Maybe each time, I’m getting a bit closer to that bit of extra understanding I’m reaching for. If not, well... there’s still Kirby and Simonson and Thor. Hot damn.

What If We Kissed on the Blue Area of the Moon? 02 – What If...? Thor #1

“What if Thor got Spider-Man’s Symbiote suit?” by Torunn Grønbekk, Sergio Dávila, Aure Jimenez, Bryan Valenza, and Joe Sabino

Like the first of this year’s crop of What If...? issues, the second has some problems for this ol’ friend of Uatu. Unlike the first, it tells a coherent single story rather than a series of montages punctuated by truncated scenes. The premise is very simple: instead of Spider-Man getting the Symbiote as a new costume on the Beyonder’s Battleworld during Secret Wars, Thor does. Throw in Torunn Grønbekk on writing and I figured that this issue would be fairly good given her recent history writing the Thunder God in various places in recent years. It’s not bad by any means. It’s a bit worse than that. It’s solid. And, really, the only part that I tend to question is, like the first What If...? issue, is the way it works with the premise of the book.

As I said last time, the way What If...? works is to proceed from a single point of change where everything that happens up until that moment is the same as the regular Marvel Universe continuity. From that point on, things play out differently due to the change – but should still adhere to the same general logic of the original stories where anything that is different should flow from that specific change. Now, this idea has been played with in a whole bunch of different ways and stretched fairly far – particularly in the mid-90s ‘dark’ period of the title where the stories were rather large deviations, often without a clear single moment of change. So, I get that there isn’t any true ‘hard and fast’ rules for the title, except maybe in my own head. And I’m not entirely convinced that Grønbekk actually breaks those rules with the story she’s written – but knowing that means really knowing your continuity as the seeming point of change is not, in fact, the point of change.

On the surface, the point of departure seems to be that moment on Battleworld where Thor uses the machine that Spider-Man did in Secret Wars to obtain a new costume and receives the Symbiote instead. From there, Thor’s mood and tone is immediately altered/influenced by the Symbiote, which grates a little at first given that the changes for Spider-Man were much more gradual – but that’s easy enough to forgive given the one-off nature of the story requiring things to speed up a bit and, possibly, explained away by two things: Thor’s differing nature/temperament to that of Spider-Man making that side of his personality come out much easier – and that, in this world, the Symbiote was targeting Thor. See, the real ‘What if?’ in this issue isn’t “What if Thor got Spider-Man’s Symbiote suit?” it’s “What if Thor never slew Knull’s Grendel?” which leads to him getting the Symbiote.

The main plot of this issue has Thor, bonded with the Symbiote, investigating an issue with Frost Giants on Earth, revealing their bonding with Symbiotes. As Thor and the Asgardians battle them, he eventually finds himself confronted with a Symbiote dragon and, then, once captured, Knull. In the regular Marvel Universe, Knull was, at this point, still imprisoned, not on Earth. A key bit of dialogue is Thor looking at the Symbiote dragon and thinking, “IT IS LIKE NO DRAGON I HAVE EVER SEEN BEFORE,” implying that Thor never battled and killed the Grendel when it arrived on Earth, thus never weakening Knull and causing him to be imprisoned by the Symbiotes. Instead, Knull has been on Earth this entire time, preparing to take it – and the Battleworld Symbiote was sent to bond with Thor specifically to aid in that process. I think. It’s not 100% clear and I’m relying on what I’ve been able to research online about the history of Knull. My first instinct was to dismiss the appearance of Knull and that plan as a wild deviation that breaks the rules of What If...? by altering what happened before the point of deviation... until, reading how Thor killed Knull’s dragon, it occurred to me that that was the point of deviation: Knull and his dragons arrived on Earth with no opposition from Thor. It’s a clever little nesting doll of ‘What ifs’ that I’m not entirely sure I’ve seen before.

The only problem is that, at first glance, it takes you out of the story to a degree – or it did for me. Instead of focusing on what was happening, I spent the rest of the comic half-wondering if I was wrong about Knull being off the board at the time this story takes place and what was going on. Now, I know that “What if Thor never killed Knull’s Symbiote dragon?” isn’t quite as catchy a title/hook as the one we got, but, if that’s the true difference and it’s not a story you’re willing to stand behind as a concept, why do it at all? Why bait and switch? And, if I’m reading it wrong, why completely deviate from established continuity in a manner that doesn’t work for a story that, honestly, is fairly by the numbers in the way it plays out with Thor influencing the Symbiote more than it influences him? As I said, it’s a solid story that plays out largely how you’d expect once Knull is revealed. It’s a banal plot that comes with a big question that may be a clever twist that just raises more questions about the creation of the book.

Visually, the book is fine. Sergio Dávila is a capable artist with good instincts and character work. An oddly specific focus of mine is the look of Thor once he receives the Symbiote suit. Spider-Man’s Symbiote costume (and the ensuing design of Venom) is iconic to the point where there’s legitimate arguments to be had over if it’s an improvement on his original costume (which is an all-time great). Dávila’s design is, like the Spider-Man costume, all black with white highlights and brings to mind a combination of the Olivier Coipel, Esad Ribić, and Nic Klein designs for Thor’s costume. Definitely a modern sheen to it and an effort to make it fit with the logic of how Spider-Man’s costume changed. But, like the plot, it’s a little dull and straight forward. If you were to give an assignment for an all black Thor costume that suggests he’s under a dark influence, this is pretty much what you’d get back nine times out of ten. And, while that is correct, it’s also underwhelming. The Spider-Man Symbiote suit is great because it’s striking, has key elements from the original, but also stands apart. This mostly looks like a Thor costume that’s coloured black instead of blue and red. Hell, I would have been satisfied with a variation on how Thor looked in What If...? #4 during that final battle with Spider-Man when the Symbiote goes hero-hopping. Ah well...

We’re two issues in and, so far, the 2026 What If...? revival is a bit of a let down – albeit, in this case, an almost interesting one with the way that the true “What if?” question is buried and left unasked, which is something. Just not enough.

What If We Kissed on the Blue Area of the Moon? 01 – What If...? Uncanny X-Men #1

“What if Cyclops has stayed with Madelyne Pryor?” by Gerry Duggan, Jan Bazaldua, Arthur Hesli, and Clayton Cowles

I don’t always dip back into the periodic return of What If...? as I find the modern versions often unsatisfying. When I was a child, I was always fond of the monthly series that was so random in its offering of what bit of Marvel history would be warped. Every issue featured a recap of how it went down courtesy of Uatu the Watcher and, then, how it’s all changed in the issue at question. Part of the charm was in how mundane it all was. How ephemeral and temporary due to the monthly cadence and self-contained nature. If an issue didn’t quite land, well, next month would be something entirely different. Each issue was like a mini-event unto itself. The modern iterations group together to be a mini-event of sorts. They tackle ideas so broad that there isn’t always a coherent point or story to be told.

That’s what I found with the first of the 2026 batch of What If...? issues, focused on exploring how things would have been different had Madelyne Pryor not died in Inferno and been redeemed in the process. Somewhat shockingly, this isn’t territory ever covered by What If...? with the only Inferno­-based stories asking what if the X-Men had lost or what if Wolverine had been lord of the vampires during the event. That this issue is also written by Gerry Duggan, one of the main recent X-Men writers during the Krakoa era suggested something that would probably tie into that era of the title, presumably when Nathan Summers would be coming of age – possibly to supplant the roles of the likes of Nate Grey or Hope Summers. While What If...? doesn’t need to follow such logic, it’s pretty typical to try to play off what actually happened when possible, giving ironic twists of known events. Duggan doesn’t opt for that.

Instead, the issue unfolds with random, haphazard choices. The timeline of events is shuffled randomly from the regular Marvel Universe for reasons unclear and nonsensical. The breaking point is the conclusion of Inferno where, here, Pryor is saved and Jean Grey, in her anger at Scott choosing his wife, takes revenge on Mr. Sinister, wiping his mind of the knowledge of cloning her and the existence of Nathan Summers. This means Nathan is no longer a pawn in the Sinister/Apocalypse conflict, and is never infected with the Techno-Organic Virus. Instead, Scott quits X-Factor to remain a devoted husband and father. It’s not until Nathan’s mutant abilities manifest that the Summers family becomes a little superhero team that participate/help stop such events as Atlantis Attacks and Acts of Vengeance, two events that were published at the same time as/immediately after Inferno, but, here, randomly take place a good decade later... after we also saw Wolverine and Emma Frost in their Morrison/Quitely New X-Men era costumes, which, somehow, preceded the Fantastic Four wearing their Claremont/Larroca era costumes. And, eventually, it all leads into Sinister regaining his memory and launching the Mutant Massacre on the Mansion... despite that story happening before Inferno. There’s a sense of all of Marvel history happening whenever desired despite there being no cause and effect or logic at play. It’s incredibly distracting – and breaks from the logic of What If...? where it’s the Marvel Universe that we know until the point of departure. Then, things unfold differently, but would still have the same broad sense of progression unless there were specific moments that would result in a change. Duggan just lobs out names of stories and events at random.

Also random is the way that Nathan Summers is handled. He gets his powers and wants to be a hero, which is fine. That makes sense. The Summers Family as a hero unit is an idea with legs that isn’t explored at all. For some reason, Nathan still has the codename Cable despite there being no reason for it other than that’s what his future self calls himself in the regular universe. Nathan is largely used only to be threatened in the new Mutant Massacre at the hands of the Marauders alongside other students and Madeline dies (which Cyclops is blinded) to inspire Cyclops to lean heavily into dark ops X-Force style actions to obtain revenge. And that’s largely a detour until the Krakoa era that ends with the conflict with Arakko going poorly for the Krakoa mutants and Earth at large. It’s a bit of a speedrun through X-Men history that doesn’t do anything interesting with how it’s different, aside from Cyclops eliminating Sinister means that Krakoa doesn’t have the Resurrection Protocols. That seems to be the big point of emphasis for Duggan: saving Madelyne means Sinister is eventually eradicated, which means Krakoa is weaker, which means Earth is weaker...

You can squint and see the logic, but it glosses over doing anything interesting with Nathan, a mutant of immense power. With no Hope Summers, would he have filled the mutant messiah role after M-Day (which isn’t here) or what about Utopia? Or any other of the endless X-events? In fact, part of the hole here is that Krakoa largely seems to exist as normal, except without a key element to its function, the Resurrection Protocols. The original sin of partnering with Sinister is lacking, as is the sense of power that would be at the heart of the nation. It’s glossed over how exactly Krakoa would develop almost identically when missing such a key element – in fact, the primary visual that begins the Krakoa period is the Resurrection Protocols. Moreover, there’s something unsettling that the core idea of this comic is that the bargain with Sinister was the morally correct thing to prevent the destruction of the Earth. The comic winds up being an argument for why it was the right thing to do... rather than one that actually tells an interesting story with the characters at hand.

None of which is necessarily a bad thing or makes for a bad issue of What If...? honestly. Big, broadly glossed over stories are as much a hallmark of the book as tightly plotted character pieces. This one, though, is so uneven with where it decides to focus, particularly in how it ignores the usual flow of events, that it doesn’t do either well.

I Know Thorion of the New Asgods and You, Sir, Are No Thorion of the New Asgods

Thorion of the New Asgods #1 was part of the second wave of Amalgam titles, the joint venture between Marvel and DC, where the worlds of the two companies were merged into a single universe. The characters at the forefront were Dark Claw (Batman meets Wolverine), Spider-Boy (Spider-Man meets Superboy), and Super Soldier (Superman meets Captain America) and the titles were full of Easter eggs for the hardcore fans, cramming in as many references as possible. Two lines of 12 comics (six from each publisher) came out over successive years and the quality, honestly, was a bit hit or miss. They were all ‘fun’ for their own reasons and remain somewhat stunning that they exist at all. It wasn’t until the second wave that the specifically Kirby side of things was addressed in Thorion of the New Asgods by Keith Giffen and John Romita, Jr. in what remains one of my favourite single issues. Not so much a cohesive story or even an Easter egg-filled book, it’s practically sparse of all of the characters it could have crammed in. Instead, it seemed to capture the spirit of Kirby’s Thor and Fourth World works, eventually culminating in an ending that brought forth the Celestials of his Eternals. As far as corporate-owned homages go, it the gold standard – and the book that seemed to ensure that, when Thor was relaunched post-Heroes Reborn, that Romita would be the man drawing it.

While it remains large in my mind and is a work that I keep returning to. (I briefly considered structuring my Three Chariots project after it until that seemed too limiting.) This past week, I was thinking about it in relation to two other recent comics and the way that they sought to pay homage to Kirby by combining Thor and the Fourth World, and how each fell short in their own way.

“The Wondrous and the Worthy” from Marvel/DC: Spider-Man/Superman #1 by Jason Aaron, Russell Dauterman, Matthew Wilson, and Joe Caramagna

Of the two works I’m discussing, this is the one that gets closest to Thorion in that it directly uses Marvel and DC characters. This story was one of the selling points for me of Marvel’s half of the Spider-Man/Superman crossover comics, reteaming the main creative team of the Jane Foster Thor for a story where that version of Thor meets Wonder Woman. Except, it’s not exactly that version of the character. This five-page story follows suit from most of the stories in the anthology by depicting a joint world of Marvel and DC where that’s how it’s always been. Also like most of the stories in the anthology, the main point of this story seems to be to talk about how great these characters are (how legendary, how meaningful, how inspirational, etc.) rather than simply telling a good, entertaining story. That’s all this story is. It feels like the middle five pages of a longer story.

Which isn’t inherently bad. Part of the charm of the Amalgam comics was the way that they made an effort to, despite being the supposed first issues of series, to fit into a larger continuity, often predicting the modern habit of relaunching a title under a new first issue when a new creative team comes aboard. Entering en media res isn’t a problem if the substance is there. And it’s not, in this case. To break down the story’s five pages:

1. Red skies above the Daily Planet as narration sets up the idea that Darkseid has conquered Asgard and now has his sights set on Midgard. What looks like Parademons attack Lois Lane, Jimmy Olsen, and J. Jonah Jameson until lightning strikes and Thor (Jane Foster) begins to fight them. They’re actually Paravenoms, suggesting Symbiote-possessed Parademons.
2. Overwhelmed, a golden thread wraps around Thor’s wrist and yanks her free. As she’s pulled, she tosses Mjolnir, which is deflected by bracelets. It’s revealed that Thor was rescued by Wonder Woman.
3. The two discuss Thor’s real identity as they fight Paravenoms and Thor reveals her self-doubts, asking Wonder Woman to take Mjolnir.
4. Jane tells Diana why she is far more worthy. Wonder Woman responds in kind, revealing that the Lasso of Truth allowed her to see Jane’s true form, dying of cancer and that she is the best choice to wield Mjolnir. A silhouette boot proclaims “LIES!”
5. It’s Darkseid, wielding All-Black. And, then, there’s a big pin-up style image of various Marvel and DC heroes as the narration discusses their eventual win over Darkseid’s forces.

Now, the story being that Jane as Thor lacks self-confidence in this world and is reassured by Wonder Woman is valid. It’s not substantive, it’s pure fluff that seeks to ‘celebrate’ through explicitly holding our hands and going “Hey, kids, look at how great these characters are! Aren’t they something?!?” rather than having them be great. I think what frustrates me so much about this story is not just how fluffy it is and devotes most of its space to discussing how inspirational and ‘worthy’ Jane is (in contrast to the moments where Jane does the same for Diana), it’s how unnecessary a story like this. The comics that Aaron and Dauterman did together starring Jane as Thor did this already – and far more effectively. While I’m rarely one to preach that old CIA gem of “Show, don’t tell,” I also don’t think a story whose entire point is to tell us how great a character is is worth reading, particularly when these same creators already told that story.

The one upside should be Dauterman and Wilson’s art given that even a fluffy story can still look great. If anything, this feels like an excuse for Dauterman to get to draw Thor and Wonder Woman. There’s energy and dynamism in his layouts that recalls his time on Thor. Something about Dauterman’s linework, particularly for faces, has lost me. I’ve noticed it in the covers he’s done for Marvel and the odd interior page I’ve seen over the past few years, where, somehow, his line work has simplified and part of what I loved about it has disappeared. But, that’s just my preference. What bothers me more is that the Paravenoms don’t offer much in the way of visual stimuli for Dauterman to craft a good action sequence. While the page where Diana rescues Thor is laid out wonderfully and has some inventive action, the rest of the story is fairly cramped and uninspired. It’s a lot of posing and reaction shots.

The use of Darkseid as the primary villain makes sense, given that combining Thor with something from DC will invariably lead to the Fourth World. But, again, not much is done with it. Parademons and symbiotes is more something that comes across in the name than anything practical in the story, while Darkseid showing up with All-Black coming out of his hand is, at best, a cool tease, and, at worst, Darkseid with a sword coming out of his hand... whoop-dee-whoop, ya dig? There’s little engagement with the New Gods beyond that – nor with Asgard. Like I’ve been saying, it’s light. It’s fluff. Another disappointment mostly brought upon myself, I suppose.

 

The Ultimates #23 by Deniz Camp, Stipan Morian, and Travis Lanham

In another disappointment, for different reasons, is The Ultimates #23, the second issue of the title devoted to Thor’s attempt to overthrow Loki’s Asgard. Ostensibly a tie-in to Ultimate Endgame, also written by Camp, it’s not actually much of an issue. Like issue 11, it’sdone entirely in splashes/double-page spreads and the narration is poetry. For Camp, that mostly means alliteration abused absent abandon. The true purpose of this issue is to let Stipan Morian deliver 24 absolutely stunning pages. Morian drawing a version of Ragnarok is worth anyone’s time. The words are practically superfluous and I think there’s a decent chance that even Camp would agree with that sentiment.

The words and the story they tell is nothing new. From the perspective of someone who has been reading all of the Ultimate titles, it’s downright baffling by how little it matters in the larger scheme of things. But, that’s for another time. In general, it’s a fairly straight forward variation on the traditional Ragnarok story. Back in The Ultimates #11, Thor made some deals to bring this about and here it is. No surprises, no bombshells, nothing specifically noteworthy. If you’ve never encountered this story before, then I imagine it will land a lot better. It’s a story that’s been told or foretold far too many times in Thor comics over the decades, so it all feels a bit repetitive. The cycle is a big deal and the idea that this will break that cycle is meant to hit hard, yet even that’s been done before. All this issue really has going for it is Morian’s art.

You can see various elements in the art. A bit of Bisley and Vess and Kordrey and Mignola and, yes, Kirby. That final name is the one that hangs over the issue heaviest, because it’s the one that’s invoked in all but. From the heavy use of Kirby creations like Mangog and the Destroyer to the page where Thor meant to suggest Ego the Living Planet to the final page that basically calls out the first page of New Gods #1 with the line “...and there was a time when old gods died.” laid over Morian’s version of that first page. It’s a complete recreation of that page with a detail or two changed, mostly due to Morian’s difference in style to Kirby’s. The entire issue’s Ragnarok leads into that first page, which Kirby had clearly written and drawn to evoke his work at Marvel on Thor, laying plain that this was the next step beyond that work – something he’d tried to accomplish at Marvel, but they were too tied to the existing characters to want to move on.

What I’ve been struggling with is why bother turn this issue into a direct lead-in to that page. It’s a nifty callback, a fun visual homage for those that will get it... When considering it, I’m struggling to find a good reason for it. In the preceding pages, there seems to be a critique of the endless nature of these stories, which does fit with its position as the second-last issue of a series whose ending coincides with the conclusion of the Ultimate world/line in its current iteration. Given that these are variation characters whose existence bears no influence on the ongoing stories of the ‘original’ versions, there’s something hollow about the sentiment and the ending. After all, this is not the first Ultimate Universe. Perhaps, that reborn cyclical nature is what Camp is getting at, that the Maker has turned his world into something akin to the Aesir, existing in a cycle of birth, death, and rebirth...

It still doesn’t track for the Kirby homage. That was something new and different. It may have tackled some similar ideas – so did Eternals – yet each step forward was a step forward, not a repetition. At worse, they were ruminations on ideas that haunted Kirby akin to a novelist with recurring themes. At best, they were still works from the same mind. New, yes; not disconnected or unrelated. That’s where the message is muddled. This is the death of this Asgard and these gods and there’s a hope for something new springing from it... Only it’s the old.

Maybe it’s that cynical, this issue. Rather than hopeful, it points to the next logical step after this ends, which is just rebooting another Kirby concept. There was a time when that sort of message suited me. I’ve come to grips, largely, with where I’m at and all I see is someone railing against a system that they’re very much a part of. I mean, it’s still comics about Spider-Man and Captain America and Doom and Iron Man and Thor... Oh, the Thomasian in me wants to point out that this bridges the gap between the two in-continuity versions of Asgard and the Fourth World. This is the Third World, following the ongoing Second-That-Will-Not-Die and preceding the Fourth that began decades ago... What a crock.

The story of Ragnarok was always one with the rebirth after. The new out of the old. The seasons, the wheel, all of that shit. You look at it from a certain perspective and you can see these comics as the launching pad for new, interesting work from those involved reaching an even larger audience. That also rings somewhat cynical and laughable, though. I first encountered Camp and Morian in their creator-owned 20th Century Men, an audacious and stunning work of New. The new already exists and this is spinning your wheels. At least when guys like Ennis ‘slum it,’ there seems to be something worth saying. This is aimless lashing out coupled with taking the knee at the same time. Maybe I don’t understand. Maybe I’m missing something crucial, one key detail...

Damn good looking art. At least there’s that.

Big Wheel Keep on Turnin’: The First Roy Thomas Thor Run and the Original Mortal Thor

When it comes to a work like The (Im)Mortal Thor, it’s easy to ascribe too much to influence, to previous works that Al Ewing draws upon. He’s not exactly shy about pointing to where he’s taking an idea here and there. From the epigrams pointing to The Poetic Edda and The Prose Edda along with various other works to flashbacks that take elements from previous comics, there’s a real wearing it on the sleeve to the run. Probably the most audacious reference is to Thor #272, a comic that’s retold over the course of two issues that actually bear very little resemblance to the original comic by Roy Thomas and John Buscema. Aside from the plot and a few of the visuals, The Immortal Thor #5-6 owes as much to Thor #272 as it does to the story from The Prose Edda that the comic was based upon. A superficial look suggests a simple modern retelling/decompression of a classic comic; a side-by-side comparison shows only a superficial commonality with no direct reproductions of the art or the words. That’s what I mean by it’s easy to ascribe too much to influence. But, it’s also easy to ascribe too little. For by pointing to that specific comic, Ewing seems to both acknowledge a prior work that bears weight on his current writing and to distract from the ensuing comics that hold even greater sway. “Everyone hyper-focus on this one comic by Roy Thomas and ignore the other two dozen that actually give much more of the game away!”

Before I dive in, I have to acknowledge that you can pretty much dismiss everything I’m about to discuss if you’re so inclined. There are numerous superficial similarities that can be written off as “You’re talking about Thor comics! Of course they’re more similar than not!” But, I’m not sitting here trying to argue that Al Ewing ripped these comics off or purposefully patterned his work after them. More, I think it points to a similar sensibility and leaning between Ewing and Roy Thomas. To limit Ewing’s Thor work down to these as the blueprint ignores the numerous other sources that went into the comics, not least of all his own imagination and skill. At the same time, when rereading the first Roy Thomas run, it was hard not to see broad ideas repeated by Ewing, even if it was a small detail here and there.

What drew my attention to revisiting these comics (Thor #272-278, 283-301, and annual #7) was doing some preliminary research into my eventual look at The Mortal Thor ala my recently concluded examination of The Immortal Thor. Specifically, I recently read The Saga of the Volsungs (Penguin Classics translation by Jesse L. Byock, who keen readers will remember as the translator of the edition of The Prose Edda that I have) in an effort to gain insight into Sigurd, the namesake of the current not-Thor protagonist of The Mortal Thor. One of the most notable adaptations of The Saga of the Volsungs is Richard Wagner’s Ring of the Nibelung and I remembered that the latter part of Roy Thomas’s original run on Thor adapted that particular opera cycle. Oddly, rather than adapt the original source material directly, the comics specifically point to Wagner’s cycle as the specific work that Thomas adapts. Even issues written by Ralph Macchio and Mark Gruenwald contain a credit like issue 299’s “Based on the opera ‘GOTTERDAMMERUNG’ by Richard Wagner as adapted by Roy Thomas.” That Thomas looked to Wagner is most likely a sign of appreciating the composer’s work along with the accessibility of it compared to translations of The Saga of the Volsungs (or The Poetic Edda, which contains numerous poems that combine to tell a version of the same story). But, what’s notable is that Thomas looked to a Germanic adaptation of a Scandinavian story in a comic about a Norse god – many elements differ significantly from the original story. In his introduction to his translation, Byock gives a brief summary:

Not only was Wagner directly inspired by his own reading of The Saga of the Volsungs in H. von der Hagen’s 1815 German translation, but the composer was influenced by the treatment of the saga in Wilhelm Grimm’s Deutscher Heldensage. Wagner appears to have been especially struck by Grimm’s interpretation of the sibling marriage in the Norse material, and reading Grimm helped Wagner to form his view of the central importance of The Saga of the Volsungs and Eddic poetry. In adapting the Norse material to his own uses, as elsewhere in writing his librettos, Wagner took many liberties with his medieval sources, abridging, changing, condensing, and combining them freely and imaginatively.

Drawing upon The Saga, German folklore, and the Eddas among his sources, Wagner’s work is unique, blending many influences and not retelling a single specific story in a new medium. Sounds familiar. It also means that, when Roy Thomas and company adapted Wagner’s work, there were odd differences from the original stories in The Saga of the Volsungs and The Poetic Edda, most notably the difference in one of the main character’s names, as Sigurd was recast as Siegfried. And, here, for reasons never truly explained, Thor was cast in the role of Siegfried at one point – he wouldn’t be Sigurd until Walt Simonson had him invent a human identity to continue living in New York after the enchantment that allowed him to become the mortal Donald Blake was given by Odin to Beta Ray Bill.

Thor, at one point, being Siegfried (Sigurd) is the idea that enables the adaptation of Wager’s librettos across Thor #293-300 (although, the direct adaptation happens in fits and starts). Wanting to know what Odin means when he says he won’t kill Thor again, Thor tracks down the eye that Odin sacrificed for wisdom, depicted as literally a giant eyeball that talks, and coerces it to tell the story that Odin alluded to (and would not tell Thor). The details don’t particularly matter as it’s an odd adaptation that bears little importance to Thor or to the Ewing run. How or why Thor is cast as Siegfried at one point is also unclear. Not that Odin could have sired a demi-god on Earth or been involved in the lineage of Siegfried – but why this is treated as literally a previous incarnation of Thor specifically. It seems to be an idea of convenience to allow this story to be adapted/told in the first place. If Thor isn’t put in the role of Siegfried, then why would it appear in the pages of Thor?

This is the first appearance of a ‘mortal Thor.’ It’s actually advertised as such in the next issue teaser of issue 295, while issue 297 has a caption box on the first page proclaiming “CONTINUING THE STORY OF THE MORTAL THOR!” While Ewing does not seem to be repeating the specifics of story of Sigurd in The Mortal Thor and most immediately connect the name Sigurd Jarlson with the human identity invented by Walt Simonson, that the second act of Ewing’s story so lines up with the second big story of Thomas’s run is a strange coincidence (if it is one).

Even stranger is the lead-in to the Eye of Odin showing the story of Siegfried is that it shows the previous Ragnarok and fallout where we see versions of the Aesir more Norse mythology accurate and following “The Seeress’s Prophesy” from The Poetic Edda where Ragnarok occurs, but some gods survive to begin anew. It somewhat fits into the conception of the Marvel Aesir undergoing various cycles of Ragnarok, but, in a more Thomasian move, it seems like an effort to begin the process of fitting Jack Kirby’s DC work into a continuum with his Marvel work. If you’ll recall from the first page of The New Gods, those gods came out of the destruction of the previous gods who looked suspiciously like the Asgardians from his work on Thor. If that is th Fourth World, then Thor and company are the Third, suggesting two previous versions. Here, Thomas gives one. It only seems like a possibility since this run on Thor was also largely built around bringing Kirby’s Eternals characters into Marvel continuity, less than a year after that title was cancelled by (you guessed it) Roy Thomas.

He begins the process in Thor annual #7 (drawn by Walt Simonson!) giving a forgotten (by Thor) story of Thor encountering some Eternals around a thousand years prior, folding them deep into Marvel history and, in the then-present day, continues Kirby’s story about the threat of Arishem’s judgment in 50 years. In the process, Thor learns that Odin is stymieing his efforts to stop the Celestials and aid the Eternals in trying to save the world. He even learns of Odin kneeling before a previous Host of the Celestials. Eventually, this is how the story of Siegfried is, somewhat, tied into the larger story as we see how Odin made a deal with the Celestials to not interfere in exchange for the Celestials to not cut off the gods’ (as Odin has assembled the council of all of the various human pantheons) connections to Earth. Now that the Fourth Host has Arishem standing in judgment of the Earth, Thor is cast into conflict with Odin over how to save the world.

This plot is echoed in the threat of the Utgard gods threatening to destroy the Earth and Thor’s learning that Gaea is the impetus/ally of those gods. What makes this such a fitting repetition is that the Celestial threat is actually resolved in Thor #300 by Gaea giving a dozen Young Gods to the Celestials for study in exchange to avert Arishem’s judgment. I’m actually surprised that her intervention to save humanity isn’t referenced by Thor as it’s such a reversal. Here, she actively stops one set of powerful god-like beings from destroying life on Earth (at least sentient life); in Ewing’s run, she lets loose a different group of Elder Gods to do that very thing. The lack of a reference is almost suspicious given the way that Ewing, like Thomas, loves to show his work.

It’s the overall attitude/approach of Thomas’s run on Thor that brings to mind Ewing’s – the way that disparate threads of continuity are merged with mythological stories and current plots to try to create a cohesive whole, all while making it very clear where the different ideas are all coming from. It’s an effort to, like Wagner, make one cohesive work out of a ton of different elements. It may be a big coincidence that different elements of this run line up with Ewing’s current story, but, given that Ewing directly referenced the first issue in the on-again/off-again Thomas run on Thor, it seems unlikely that he didn’t keep reading any further. What’s unclear is where the Ewing run is going as the similarities/references are fairly high level conceptual. Referencing a mortal Thor patterned in some way after Sigurd/Siegfried, the threat of ancient gods that seem above/more powerful than the Aesir, the role of Gaea in saving/destroying humanity... If any of this is purposeful, it’s more a winking reference than a straight rip-off or even homage.

Moreover, with Thomas’s departure from the title around issue 297 with Mark Gruenwald and Ralph Macchio completing the story that Thomas started and the Doug Moench run following soon after, there is no third big story to reference for a hint of what comes after The Mortal Tor, even though it’s only real tie is the reuse of the idea of a mortal Thor referencing Sigurd/Siegfried. Maybe we’ll see deeper connections moving forward, which is why there have been few specific references or allusions from a writer that generally isn’t shy about making them.