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.

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.

The Immortal Thorsday Thoughts 16

The villains that Al Ewing chooses for Dario Agger’s group of “Gods of Midgard” are amongst the oldest to appear in Thor stories in the comics. Not a complete list of the oldest – even the oldest human villains – but amongst them. All four predate other human villains like the Absorbing Man or the Wrecking Crew. In most cases, the four chosen have gone on to actually be villains more for other heroes than memorable as “Thor villains.” Mr. Hyde is probably thought of as a Daredevil foe more than Thor’s – while the Radioactive Man has had a lot of appearances over the past couple of decades in a variety of places, most notably as a member of the Thunderbolts. Grey Gargoyle even had a moment as a bit of a major Iron Man villain thanks to turning Paris to stone in Fear Itself. Looking through their respective histories, all four are very much characters of the Marvel Universe at large with only the Grey Gargoyle actually appearing in a Thor comic proper in the 21st century. Basically, after their first appearances in Journey into Mystery, they all went off to be villains at large rather than staple Thor villains.

Their first appearances, both in comics and as Thor villains, occur over a 21-issue span of Journey into Mystery, beginning roughly a year into Thor’s time headlining the title. During that first year and interspersed were a variety of other villains like Loki and other Asgardian threats, several low-level human threats that kind of fizzled away, and one human threat that remained a somewhat recurring Thor villain, Zarrko the Tomorrow Man. Radioactive Man is a bit of an outlier, but, once Human Cobra (as he was originally known) is introduced in issue 98, nine of the ensuing 16 issues featured Human Cobra, Mr. Hyde, and Grey Gargoyle in some combination:

Journey into Mystery #93 – Radioactive Man

Journey into Mystery #98 – Human Cobra

Journey into Mystery #99-100 – Mr. Hyde

Journey into Mystery #105-106 – Human Cobra and Mr. Hyde

Journey into Mystery #107 – Grey Gargoyle

Journey into Mystery #110-111 – Human Cobra and Mr. Hyde

Journey into Mystery #113 – Grey Gargoyle

Their order of appearance in Journey into Mystery is how they show up in The Immortal Thor #16: Radioactive Man, Cobra/Mr. Hyde (same panel, teaming up), and, then, Grey Gargoyle. There are other allusions, like Radioactive Man’s arrival in New York recalling his original arrival in the city, walking through customs with impunity – or the way he tries to discredit Thor in front of the police being a variation of his original hypnosis of the hero, or even Thor throwing Mjolnir away. And the attacks of the other three are pretty much what those three do. It’s all very effective. Further disrupt the idea of Thor as a hero on Earth and, then, kill him. But, why these four? Of all of the superhumans that Dario Agger could recruit, why these four who have failed so many times before?

As Thor follows the body of the Radioactive Man across town as it’s propelled by Mjolnir, he thinks “[...] I AM MADE TO SEEM THE VILLAIN--AND HE THE HERO. NOT AN AUSPICIOUS START, THOR.” And so we return, once again, like a broken record, to the teller of the tale. Part of Thor’s identity is tied in his superhero persona on Earth and, if Loki is to destroy all that makes up Thor, then that part must be targeted as well. Amora, Skurge, and Dario did part of the job with their Roxxon Thor, but that still left lingering doubts. What Thor is real? If there are two, which one is good? Which one bad? There’s no way to know. So, you go back to the beginning and his earliest superpowered human villains, all working together to, first, make Thor seem the villain and, then, kill him – at least in a manner that will last on Earth. They supplant the God of Thunder as Gods of Midgard, filling the void his absence leaves. That seems important somehow: something for something.

I know, I remain fixated on this approach to reading these comics, but I can’t see any other. It’s all one story with one direction and purpose. For any of these issues to be throwaway stories that don’t contribute to that larger story seems wrong. Maybe it’s right, who knows. I’ve decided to give Ewing more credit than that with respects to this story.

The way that Thor’s image is meant to be remade before some of his earliest villains kill him is a variation on a retcon. By reliving those early days, it’s like a retcon in real time. It doesn’t change the past at all, but it does change the perception of the past. Like, maybe Thor was always bad and these four were always good, that everyone misinterpreted what happened. A spell that travels back through time, remaking history. It’s not entirely dissimilar from Skurge destroying the bridges and that disconnecting Thor (and Asgard) from Earth. The events remain, but something shifts. This would be more of a collective delusion than that, though. Like a reinterpretation of history where the facts aren’t so much in dispute as what they mean is. It fails, of course. I’m not convinced that it was ever meant to work completely, its true purpose to add to the cumulative effect of knocking bits off Thor until nothing is left, reducing him to bits and pieces, literally here.

Next issue, we’ll keep on following this path with a look at the human side of Thor’s soul in The Immortal Thor #17 and what exactly Donny Cates did to Donald Blake.

The Immortal Thorsday Thoughts 06

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Immortal Thorsday Thoughts 03

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Blogathon 04: Jack Kirby's Comics Work in the '70s (Part 2)

Tim Callahan, ladies and gentlemen! That is how you discuss Jack Kirby, people!

As I said an hour ago, I have, without knowing I was, taken Tim's prescription for all of us. I don't have a nightstand next to my bed, I have a small, three-shelf bookcase. You see, our bed is a big one. Very tall. I'm 6'1" or so and I have to hop up slightly (pity my poor wife for the massive leaps she must take every time she wants to get into bed). When we were looking for bedside tables, we saw some nice shelves on sale and, well, now I have shelves filled with trades. Some of the first that I decided must go in were those Kirby collections. Over the next while, I plan on taking out the three Captain America trades and reading them. And that Essential Black Panther I picked up in the summer that has most of Kirby's run along with, what I'm told are some fantastic comics done by people who aren't Kirby. Maybe I'll try to reread the Fourth World saga in one long go.

Tim's post was a lot of bombast and became something of a list (which is hard to avoid) and I'm struck by the sheer magnitude of Kirby's output in the '70s. I have four big omnibuses, a slim hardcover, and then another six trades of material... and that's, what, half of what he produced in the '70s? There's no Losers or The Demon or Kamandi or Devil Dinosaur or 2001 or anything else on my shelf. Though, as someone just e-mailed me, 2001 needs to be reprinted. Whatever needs to be done to get that to happen, Marvel, needs to happen!

The one work that I want to read more than any is one that never really happened, not completely: Jack Kirby's The Prisoner. If you read Mister Miracle or OMAC (and probably some of the stuff I haven't read yet), you can see that Kirby had a shared sensibility with that show. A similar love of weird, unexplained events -- of elaborate traps and rouses. Of getting to the end and having the rug pulled out from under you. Of weird machines and fake villages. The Prisoner is a TV series that I enjoy a lot and seeing it filtered through Jack Kirby gets me excited in a way that remaking it with Jesus as the lead doesn't (still haven't seen the remake). I guess it's the unknown possibilities of a Prisoner comic that leaves me so entranced. What would Kirby have done? Would it have been a simple adaptation? Or would Kirby have deviated after that first issue? Where would he have gone?

But, that's the story of... well, almost every Kirby did in the '70s, isn't it? Here was a man, basically, producing creator-owned work, except it was owned by corporations and they kept cutting him off at the knees. The most popular comic book artist of the '60s wasn't so popular in the '70s and every time he tried to make something new happen, something personal and brilliant, it would be taken away because the sales weren't there. That is hard to fathom now, isn't it? How could readers in the '70s not love what Kirby was doing? How could they not buy New Gods and OMAC and Eternals and everything else and make them best sellers? What else of that time hoped to match those books? How? HOW? How could they not let this brilliant genius tell his stories in the ways he wanted for as long as he wanted?

And it makes me wonder about the things we're ignoring now. We've made great strides in this area, but we've all known too many materpieces that have been cut off at the knees thanks to low sales. I guess that's a reality that I'll never fully understand or be comfortable with. But, how could I not when I've got a shelf next to my bed where Kirby's Fourth World ends at four omnibus editions and Eternals only fills two trades? Where OMAC is only eight issues! EIGHT! MY GOD!

So much missed opportunity... so many damn good comics...

In 30 minutes, I'll kick off the next topic as David Brothers and I discuss the idea of keeping up with other critics.

And my top ten comics of 2012 has kicked off with Prison Pit book four!

As well, we're up to $490.95 raised for the Hero Initiative! And it's only 10:30 in the morning. I can't believe it, honestly. That is stunning. Thank you.

[Don't forget to donate what you can to the Hero Initiative (Details in this post)! After you do, let me know via comment or e-mail (found at the righthand side) so I can keep track of donations -- and who to thank.]

Blogathon 03: Jack Kirby's Comics Work in the '70s (Tim Callahan Guest Post)

JACK KIRBY IN THE 1970s

A guest post by Tim Callahan

Before we get started on this -- your farewell to writing-about-comics for a while and the massive charity blogathon you’ve coordinated -- I’d just like to say that it’s been fun doing all those Splash Page discussions for the original Sequart website (now lost to the perils of poorly-hosted platforms) and beyond, and every time we sat down to do one of our many ephemeral Splash Page podcasts together, I always thought the conversation would run out of energy after an hour, but as soon as I checked the time, we’d be closing in on hour number three.

So you go off with your new wife and your new non-writing-about-comics-every-week hobbies and remember us from your vantage point on the horizon. But don’t you ever look back. Head toward the future, where happiness lives.

There’s nothing here for you.

Nothing but…Jack Kirby!

That’s right, we’re talking about Jack “The King” Kirby, Chad Nevett. How can you walk away from this stuff? This is the best of all the stuff in the entire history of stuff. Particularly because we aren’t just discussing Jack Kirby in theory. Or the Jack Kirby who co-created Captain America (let’s not get into that conversation again, you Sentinel of Libery loather). Or the Jack Kirby who helped invent romance comics. Or redefine monster comics. Or draw those strapping young men who lived on borrowed time. Or created most of the Marvel Universe.

No, today we’re talking about what really matters: Jack Kirby’s comics from the 1970s. The Bronze Age, according to some. I hereby decree it to be a Golden Age. A Golden Age of Jack Kirby amazingness.

By 1970, Jack Kirby had already been working in comics professionally for 32 years. Have you done anything, professionally or otherwise, for 32 years, Chad Nevett? No you have not. But Jack Kirby had been drawing comics that long by the time the disco decade began and here are just a few of his notable accomplishments as the 1960s gave way to the 1970s:

      (1)   He wrapped up his Thor run. That’s right. Thor! He basically created him and his entire world, too.

      (2)   He wrapped up his Fantastic Four run. After over 100 issues of building the Marvel Universe from the Mole Man to Galactus. Yeah. I know.

So, what does he do to top these never-before-or-since-rivaled feats?

Sticks his fingers and hands and brain inside the pages of a ridiculous and largely-ignored comic about Superman’s dorky sidekick and creates a brand new mythology called the Fourth World.

And that was just the beginning of the 1970s. This was Jack Kirby at his finest. Unrestrained by the six-panel grid of so much of his Marvel work. Unrestrained by Stan Lee’s insistence on making the stories connect to the human element. Unrestrained, even, by editing of any kind.

(Except his Superman faces. Those had to be redrawn because DC panicked and didn’t want Kirby-Superman sent out into the same world where kids had birthday parties with Superman paper plates. Kirby’s chiseled and grizzled Kal-El would have frightened the youngsters. Though it would have been for their own good.)

So, yes, in a 30-minute guest blog post I cannot delve too deeply into Jack Kirby’s awe-inspiring accomplishments in the 1970s. But I can highlight a few. And the New Gods and Forever People and Mister Miracle and Jimmy Olsen are just the beginning.

Those comics were taken from Jack Kirby. Or killed too soon. He had more to give each of those series, and in a world in which Neal Adams and pinko Green Arrow were gaining traction, Kirby was a relic of the past who was way ahead of his time. And DC didn’t know what they had until it was gone.

But even as the Fourth World comics were pulled out from under him, he didn’t stop. His follow-ups included The Demon and Kamandi. Had Jack Kirby not even created the Fourth World, and instead drifted away from Marvel to work on obscure side projects for other companies and if he had only released either the first few issues of The Demon or Kamandi, those comics would still be looked at today as particularly thrilling slices of artistry from a master at the top of his game. Jack Kirby couldn’t help but give birth to enormous mythologies, even when all he was asked to do was to fill pages with fight scenes and colorful villains. He created new characters instead of recycling his old ones. Every time.

But he still wasn’t done.

There was his take on the rag-tag soldiers known as The Losers, his reimagined dream-warrior Sandman, the unforgettable OMAC.

This is turning into a list, because I don’t know how else to address the sheer magnitude of his creations in such a limited amount of time. Jack Kirby in the 1970s deserves a multi-volume study, not a 30-minute post-and-response. But we make do with what we have, and remember Jack Kirby’s 1970s comics as the monuments that they are. Each one of them worthy of deeper exploration.

And, what’s that? There’s still more? His return to Marvel with 2001 and Machine Man and The Eternals and Black Panther and Captain America and Devil Dinosaur? Yes. Those. Perhaps not as cosmically thrilling as his work earlier in the decade, but close. His drawings continued to become more abstract. The chiseled superhero physiques gave way to increasingly Kirbyesque body architecture. I can’t look at his work from the period and not be enthralled by his choices and his unleashed energy.

Here’s my prescription to you, Chad Nevett, and to you readers at home: put some 1970s Kirby – any sort – by your nightstand and read a story or two every time you think you’re bored or annoyed or frustrated with comic books. These will either make you excited for more or remind you why you shouldn’t bother to search for anything else. They may not have all the answers, but 1970s Jack Kirby comics will make you rethink the questions.

[Don't forget to donate what you can to the Hero Initiative (Details in this post)! After you do, let me know via comment or e-mail (found at the righthand side) so I can keep track of donations -- and who to thank.]

Blogathon 02: Jack Kirby's Comics Work in the '70s (Part 1)

If Tim had pitched this topic to me a year ago, I wouldn't have had a lot to say. I'd read, what, Eternals and the first omnibus of Jack Kirby's Fourth World? In this past year, though, I've read the rest of the Fourth World, OMAC, and... okay, I meant to read his Captain America and Black Panther runs (they're on the middle shelf in the bookcase next to my bed!), but I've been busy. I've flipped through them plenty. So, basically, I haven't improved THAT much over the past year, but I don't feel like such a know-nothing loser.

My favourite Kirby '70s work is OMAC. Before reading that, I didn't quite understand why that concept kept coming back despite it failing every single time. Why was it one of the central pieces of Infinite Crisis? Why the new 52 relaunch (even though I really enjoyed it)? It's because Kirby crafted a genuinely amazing unfinished masterpiece. It ends mid-story after eight issues of all-out insanity. It was actually startling for me to read it, knowing Kirby more as the artist who worked with Stan Lee. Try going from early Avengers issues to OMAC. Jesus...

But, the big split comes down to Fourth World/Eternals. They're not the same concept by any stretch of the imagination, but they're related. They're clearly coming from a similar place inside. Kirby's love and interest in myth and legend -- in how these larger, god-like beings influence the world and, much of the time, deal with conflicts not unlike ours. What amazes me is that, after his experience at DC with the New Gods stuff, that he would try something... similar doesn't seem right... related(?) with Marvel. It's a scaled back attempt, of course. The Fourth World story happened over the course of four comics, including a Superman one, while Eternals was just one comic and originally meant to be separate from the Marvel Universe. And every attempt by Marvel to get Kirby to bring it into the Marvel Universe was rebuffed in some way -- like the Hulk turning out to be a robot. Reading the first issue of Eternals, it's something very different from what he did with the New Gods. Those characters were gods like Thor and the Asgardians -- big fights, bright costumes. Eternals had those, too, but not really in that first issue. It was centred around an archaelogical dig. It was people in regular clothes coming into contact with god-like beings that would determine the fate of the world.

New Gods shared that idea most out of the Fourth World books as Orion gets his own little gang of humans to help him out (for a while, at least). That intersection between myth and humanity is something Kirby was keen on. Earth was the battlefield of the New Genesis/Apokolips war... it was the petri dish of the Celestials... and, in both cases, humans were caught in the middle. But, some got to participate. It could be criminals like Intergang or regular citizens like the people Orion rescues and, then, befriends. There was an agency that Kirby gave to humans that were aware of the conflicts happening around (and above) them. It's a little cheesy at times, but, sometimes, it elevates humanity to level of these gods, these mythic figures. "The Death Wish of Terrible Turpin" is the best example of a human inserting himself into this conflict, unwilling to let these giant forces simply wreck his world. He may stand beside Orion by default, but there's a sense of outrage, of Turpin demanding both sides leave the planet. Threads like these are never the main point of Kirby's work during this time, but they keep coming up in small ways. He was in love with the idea of these mythic stories, of gods and demons, but he also recognised what their impact could be on humanity.

A few weeks ago, I finished the last Fourth World omnibus and couldn't get over how The Hunger Dogs didn't read like anything I had seen by Kirby before. It was so fragmented and poetic. So filled with bombast and, yet, moments of quiet... I know, I know, it's not from the '70s, so I'm cheating. I don't know... it's a sad book.

In 30 minutes, Tim Callahan's post will go up and will be much better than this. Also, my #10 comic of 2012 post will go up at Comics Should be Good.

[Don't forget to donate what you can to the Hero Initiative (Details in this post)! After you do, let me know via comment or e-mail (found at the righthand side) so I can keep track of donations -- and who to thank.]

Best of 2011: Ten Pre-2011 Comics that I Read in 2011

Something that always gets lost in the end of the year round-ups of the best comics published that year is the influence of past works upon the year. No one just reads brand new work the entire year and ignoring the comics from prior to the year in question gives an incomplete view of the year. When I used to run down my favourite albums of the year, I'd always do a section for the albums from prior years that I'd only just gotten that year. I figured I'd do the same for comics this year. Presented in alphabetical order are my ten favourite comics (or groups of comics) that I read in 2011 that were published prior to 2011.

Astonishing X-Men: Ghost Box, Astonishing X-Men: Exogenetic, and Astonishing X-Men: Xenogenesis by Warren Ellis, Simone Bianchi, Phil Jimenez, Kaare Andrews, and others. I honestly can't remember if I got Ghost Box this year or in late 2010. Let's just assume it was this past year to make things easier. These three trades comprise Warren Ellis's three stories on Astonishing X-Men and, if you're a fan of Ellis's writing, they're entertaining little stories where he treats the X-Men like the frontline response of an endangered species struggling to stay alive, protect the future, and fuck up anyone who crosses them. Not a take that everyone likes, but I really like it. Ellis's approach to the characters is very much in line with where Cyclops is right now and that's an interpretation of the character that I enjoy. Hell, it may be my favourite version of the character. Ellis also focuses heavily on genetics, alternate realities, and variations on the idea of a 'mutant.' He's paired with some good artists and is obviously just having some fun with the tools available.

'Breed: The Book of Genesis and 'Breed: The Book of Ecclesiastes by Jim Starlin. With Image publishing 'Breed III this year, they also put out trades of the first two 'Breed mini-series. The three volumes function together as a whole to tell one big story: Ray Stoner discovers, while serving as a soldier in Vietnam, that he's not human -- he's half human, half demon. Demons have been softening the world up for decades to make it right for them to come here and consume it. So, he must go against the demons and other 'breeds to try and destroy the leader of the demons, his own father. I didn't know much about 'Breed before reading 'Breed III and these trades made that a lot clearer. Jim Starlin has said that this is his favourite series and it's one that allows for a wide range of concepts and stories. He may have stuck to a fairly strict straight line, but, in there, is magic, sci-fi, war, romance, noir... basically, it's a series that accomodates everything. Hell, in 'Breed III, he brought in all of his other major creator-owned characters to help Stoner out! This was a major gap in my Starlin knowledge, now filled.

Elektra Lives Again by Frank Miller and Lynn Varley. I got one of the reprints that's regular comic size, something that Retailer Tim informed me was a mistake. Me, I'm just happy to have gotten a chance to read this story. Frank Miller applying some his later style to Matt Murdock and telling a story where Murdock wanders around not knowing what's really going on. It's a story about a superhero out of his depth and utterly ineffective. So much happens that we don't know about because we're so tied to Murdock. It's original and rather astonishing. And utterly gorgeous.

The Flash: The Trial of the Flash by Cary Bates, Carmine Infantino, and others. I got this because of Graeme and Jeff talking it up so much. One of those rare instances of DC using their 'Showcase Presents...' books to collect a big story rather than just X number of issues of a title. The story itself is a rather loose one throughout with a lot of the usual superhero bullshit popping up. What made the biggest impression upon me was how this changed my opinion of Barry Allen. Before this, I thought he was a boring, one-dimensional character. Now, I understand that he's a selfish asshole like every other Silver Age DC hero. One of the main subplots of the story revolves around Barry's fiancee going crazy because he stood her up on their wedding day -- where the Flash apparently killed the Reverse-Flash to save her life. Instead of just telling her that he's the Flash and he was late because he was fighting his arch-nemesis, he lets her get put in a mental hospital and, then, fakes his own death. Now, if this Barry Allen was the one currently in the DCU, I think I'd be much on board with the character. This was also my first extended exposure to Carmine Infantino's art. I know it's later in his career, but he made a lot of strange choices. Lots of slanted panels mixed with extreme close-ups that left you wonder what you were looking at. Very different from most superhero art.

Jack Kirby's Fourth World Omnibus Vol. 1 by Jack Kirby. DC has finally begun releasing these omnibi in softcover for those of us who missed the hardcovers. This first volume is mostly introductions and Jimmy Olsen comics. I rather like the way that Kirby was establishing his own little corner of the DCU with four comics, each offering a different perspective. He just hits the ground running and doesn't look back. The common thread through all four titles is Darkseid as he schemes to find the human who can comprehend the Anti-Life Equation. You can already see the connection to The Eternals, which was more focused and shied even further away from the superhero stuff. There isn't a lot of straight up superhero content in these comics aside from Superman. The New Gods all wear their costumes and have powers, but don't seem like 'superheroes.' I'm curious how those ideas will further develop over the next three volumes -- all of which I'd love to see released in 2012.

Various Hellblazer comics by Jamie Delano, Si Spencer, Peter Milligan, Ian Rankin, and a whole host of artists. I continue to own more Hellblazer comics than any other series. I added, what, nine trades, two original graphic novels, and a "Vertigo Resurrected" reprint to my collection this year? The bulk of that was comprised of comics written by the first Hellblazer writer and the current one, Jamie Delano and Peter Milligan. I don't buy single issues of Hellblazer much and, usually, wind up reading big chunks of issues. It's strange to read the beginning of the series and where it is now in the same year. John Constantine has changed quite a bit -- although not as much as you'd think. Jamie Delano's Constantine is a bit of fuck up and neophyte when it comes to magic. He knows some stuff and is a player, but he's got a lot to learn and is definitely not the biggest man on the block. By the time we get to Milligan, Constantine is the fucking man. Guys like Warren Ellis and Brian Azzarello wrote him in a way where magic wasn't a problem at all. He could almost do anything. His main problem is that he's a selfish bastard. Milligan amps that personality defect up to the point where it gets in the way of magic. Everything is so easy for him that he has to struggle with his true nature to not abuse his power -- and there are always types of magic out there that he still knows shitall about. Milligan's version of the character is one that definitely goes back to its roots. Before 2011, I'd read more Hellblazer comics than any other series (probably) and, yet, I was missing a big chunk of what makes the character who he is. And I'm still missing stuff. Bring on 2012.

Pretty much the complete Marshal Law by Pat Mills and Kevin O'Neill. I already owned some of Marshal Law and read most of what I didn't own since my dad had them when I was growing up. But, this year, I bought everything I didn't have and read the entire run of mini-series and graphic novels, including the two novellas Mills and O'Neill did. It's funny how influential these comics were (something that's still not recognised really, even though everyone who writes about them mention how influential they were) and, yet, how, with each progressive series, they became more childish, more self-parodic, and less influential. That doesn't mean that they stop being 'good,' just that there isn't much new said after the initial six-issue series. There are small moments in the rest that add to the good Marshal's character or further explore the concepts of abuse of power, guilt, and sense of betrayal by the government and superheroes. That the character is continually pushed to the point where, in the novellas, he suffers a full psychotic break between his 'real life' as Joe and his 'night life' as Marshal Law. Towards the end, neither Mills nor O'Neill seem to care as much. And why would they? What is there to say in a crossover with the Mask except that no matter what, Marshal Law is the dominant personality? They even forego the usual parodies by the end. How long can you keep making the same jokes? The Boys found some more to make, but even those grew tired at times. It's funny that, by the end, Marshal Law returned, in a sense, to where it began: focusing on broader statements and the characters, not worrying about sticking it to specific superheroes.

100 Bullets by Brian Azzarello and Eduardo Risso. I don't know what to say about this. I read this series for the first time in a week? Maybe less? It's all kind of a blur. A blur that I really enjoyed, which is why I read through it so quickly. A big series about violence and power that was every bit as good as everyone told me it would be. The way that it mixed in the larger story with the smaller contained elements, building on what came before was impressive. I'd read a few things that Risso had drawn before, but prolonged exposure to his art was something entirely different. Watching him build the world and characters with Azzarello, making the visuals matter as much as the writing (more in places). I think that's part of what makes these longterm Vertigo series work for me: a strong, consistent visual voice. It's part of what makes Preacher and Transmetropolitan so great -- and part of the reason why The Invisibles is always lacking to a degree for me. If there's one comic I want to reread in 2012, it's 100 Bullets. A slower read where I can take my time and really think about things as I go.

Ronin by Frank Miller and Lynn Varley. Another comic that my dad had and I'd flipped through a bit. I'd never read it proper. Bought the original issues cheap this year and... wow, this is Frank Miller throwing everything he can on the page. Every influence, every bit of craziness, all of it is just tossed out like this could be the last comic book he ever gets to make. And why not? It was his chance to do six issues of a comic where he wasn't stuck working with decades of continuity and expectations -- these were his characters, his world, and he didn't slow down or back off of anything. You can see the grotesque side of his art coming out in places here and that's the Miller I like best. I like the messy, ugly Miller. This isn't my favourite work of his yet... probably not top five. But, I've only read it once and moved on. It was a busy year of catching up after finally getting a full time job. Hopefully, I'll get the chance soon to go back and slow down, give it the look it deserves. Hell, I can say that for everything here, can't I?

Silver Surfer: Parable by Stan Lee and Moebius. I buy the issues and Marvel decides to put out a new collection a few months later. That's my sort of luck. I'm great at hunting down original issues only for a collection to be announced within the year. Anyway... The original issues didn't age well (which is why I'm getting the upcoming hardcover). Not the best way to read this series for the first time -- still, Moebius art on shitty paper is still better than no Moebius art at all, right? His Silver Surfer is just so casual on his board. It's not an intense riding the waves look. It's a guy who stands completely secure in who he is and what's going on. He looks like a guy standing on a street corner waiting for the bus, not someone flying an insane speeds hundreds of feet in the air. It's one of those odd approaches to a character that changes how you see them. I wound up looking at these two issues every day for a few weeks. Just flipping through them, checking out a panel here, a panel there. I did the same thing with that Incal hardcover that came out with the original colouring. Moebius is one of those artists whose work I can spend hours lingering over.