America’s Constantly Regenerating Hymen

Matthew J. Costello
Secret Identity Crisis: Comic Books and the Unmasking of Cold War America

I was thinking of trying to write about this book for the Reader…but as it turned out, it was too boring to finish. Basically, it’s one of those “super-heroes show how America has changed” riffs. In this case, Costello looks at Iron Man and Captain America comic-books from the sixties to the present. At the beginning, when Marvel was young and peppy, the Cold War gave us all a common enemy and a consensual American identity based on capitalism and virtue and assurances that good was good and evil was evil. Over time, though, we all figured out that America wasn’t maybe so good, and identity politics took hold and we didn’t know who we were anymore and then there was a Civil War in the Marvel Universe and Captain America got shot.

All of which seems to miss the main point, which is that super-hero comics didn’t change because America got all conflicted. They changed because the demographics shifted. The folks reading Captain America comic books in the 60s were probably 10-16, somewhere in there. The folks reading Captain America comics now are more like 25-35. If the stories are more complicated, or the morality is less black and white, it probably has a lot more to do with the fact that the readership is older than with any historical shift in American identity.

I mean, I agree that superhero comics have gone to shit more or less, but that’s an issue of genre and demographics, not a sign of cultural decay. We didn’t kill Captain America because we’re less unified than our parents. We killed him because we’re middle-aged and bored.

Jobnik at Stumptown

Congrats to Utilitarian Miriam Libicki on her multiple nominations at this weekend’s Stumptown Comics Festival in Portland.

She’s up for:
  • Outstanding Writing
  • Outstanding Small Press
  • Oustanding Art
Voting takes place at the show on Saturday; someone drop in a ballot for me.

Fruits Basket 1, Take 2

I started Natsuki Takaya’s “Fruits Basket” once before and couldn’t get into it. The main character, Tohru, was just too shojo saccharine for me to take; all bubbly kawaii innocence, unfailing optimism, and wide-eyed paens to her dead Mom because…is she an orphan? Of course she is.

Still, I’d heard lots and lots of good things about the series, and I hadn’t hated, hated it the first time through, so I thought I’d give it another go.

It’s working for me somewhat better this time out. I’ve only gotten through the first volume, and, yeah, Tohru is still a bit much. But once you get over that, there are a lot of low-key, touching moments in the series. For instance, in one sequence Shigure Sohma asks is relative, Kyo, what Kyo would do if a girl ever told him that she loved him. Kyo responds, “I can’t even imagine. I guess…I’d ask her if she were insane.” Similarly, Yuki (another Sohma relative) can’t believe that Tohru doesn’t find him repulsive. The thing that makes these moments work is how Takaya downplays them; instead of great torents of dramatic adolescent self-loathing, the self-hatred is touched on quietly. The lack of drama makes the emotions seem more lasting and intractable and sad.

The gimmick is good too. Fruits Basket is centered on the Sohma family, all of whom turn into various animals of the Chinese zodiac when they’re hugged by a member of the opposite sex, or when they get overly stressed. If you know Ranma 1/2, this’ll probably sound familiar. The trick is, in Ranma the fact that all the main characters turn into pandas or cats or pigs or members of the opposite sex when they have water dumped on them is played for madcap comedy. Takaya takes the trope and, improbably and rather brilliantly, finds poetry in it. In Fruits Basket, the transformation curse isn’t a joke; it’s actually a curse, which separates the Sohma from everyone else. The fact that the change is triggered by hugging becomes a metaphor for their isolation and loneliness; they literally can’t touch other people.

So I’ll keep going for the present. Who knows, maybe I’ll even overcome my insulin-shock reaction to Tohru. We’ll see….

Do Not Disturb My Amoebic Sloth

I’ve been fiendishly busy and scattered besides, with a mind to post on myth & pop or the spate of great semi-comics anthologies of late or butter or something. Then my mind crumbles and, oh, not so much. I am that of the title, melted on couch and floor.

Better just to look at the images of Laura Park. I could say comics, since that’s what she does. But she also doodles, draws in her Moleskine, and fits none too well the frameworks I have for evaluating comics.

Like this image, the cover of her mini Do Not Disturb My Waking Dream:
Buoyed by soporific mumblings. I can relate.

I pointed to the mini in my best of ’08 in TCJ, though not on the strength of its stories. It’s a 90s-style one-person anthology with short strips and doodles. The only longish story I recall is a sort-of parable that felt like a false start.

But the drawing, the line, the fine hatching, the fact that she balances her compositions with all that detail. The mini’s remarkable for that, and better as a point of entry to her Flickr page, where she’s posted a trove of art.

For a critic, it’s hard to frame. There are drawings, a few strips. Really, she jots down bon-mot doodles, a kind of artist’s daybook. Sometimes they hint at diary or autobiography. While most such works pare events into a literary form, Park’s comics dart from moment to moment, focusing on atmosphere and sensations. So the recipes and drawings of food seem like key parts of her work, not petty indulgences. I think trying to fit her talent into a “graphic novel,” at least with the implied primacy of a capital-S Story, would suck.

Instead I have this image of her much like the drawing above, leaving a trail of exquisite drawings wherever she goes. Like Johnny Appleseed, only the trees are flat and dead.

When I first read Do Not Disturb My Waking Dream, having long been an admirer of her drawings, I thought it the work of a gifted artist looking for something to say. In other words, I missed the small things. Now I hope Park doesn’t find a story. Not a capitalized one, anyway.

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Also: Kristy Valenti on same, with depth and interviewing.

No Girdle for Glory (OOCWVG #11)

Through Dirk I found this link to Alan Moore’s proposal for Glory, Rob Liefield’s Wonder Woman knock off. Since I’ve been doing an on again off again series on latter day interpretations of Wonder Woman, I was curious to read Moore’s ideas and see how he stacked up against Marston’s original stories.

There’s no doubt that Moore’s a smart guy, and he certainly keys into some of the things about Marston’s work that I like. For instance, Moore describes Steve Trevor as “one of the most truly pathetic love interests in comics” — and argues that this is a strength, not a weakness. Has anybody played Steve for mascochistic laughs after Marston? I don’t think I’ve seen it (certainly not the most recent animated movie where Steve’s an action hero and teaches WW to love (blech.)

Some of Moore’s other readings of the material don’t strike me quite, quite right though. In general, he does tend to pick out things about the original work that are fun or weird or entertaining — and then he suggests updated analogues that are almost but not quite as fun, weird, or entertaining.

–He mentions Etta Candy and the Holiday Girls as “sickening Nancy Drews” and points out that they could be used for humorous effect or (suitably aged) for a poignant touch. And it’s true — the Holiday Girls are completely bizarre. (Though they started in the 40s with Marston, not in the 60s as Moore suggests.) But the *most* bizarre thing about the Holiday girls was that Marston played them straight. Etta wasn’t there for laughs (or not only for laughs); she was actually frequently the hero, often tougher and more competent than WW, and always tougher and more competent than Steve. I don’t see any indication that Moore noticed that.

–Moore talks about the Invisible Plane, calling it “exactly the sort of lovely, pointless idea that I think we should encourage.” But then he goes on to suggest it be updated to create something which “fits more” with Glory’s mythological background. He decides on a Diamond Chariot, an intelligent crystal growth which can “reform itself according to any configurations that Glory programs into it.” Which is fine… but probably the most entertaining thing about the plane in the first place was its utter incongruity and awkwardness. Why do the Greek mythos Amazons have an invisible WW II plane lying around? Why is it invisible, anyway? Where on earth (literally) is she keeping it? Moore rationalizes the trope — but rationalizing isn’t necessarily making it better.

–Moore has got some fun villain ideas (the bondagey Venus Fly Trap, for example) but nothing nearly as weird as Marston’s female-gorilla-turned-into-a-woman, or the cross-dressing transgendered wizard character. (Though perhaps Moore would have come up with something nuttier if he’d gotten to actually write the thing.)

As far as the bigger picture stuff goes, the same thing applies: Moore does understand where Marston is coming from…but only up to a point. He says that “Dr. Charles Moulton was a barely suppressed psycho-sexual lunatic who [wrote] Wonder Woman with one hand in his pocket…” and points out how bizarre it was to have all this bondage stuff in a comic that was supposedly “designed by experts especially for the young and impressionable female reader.”

However, what Moore doesn’t seem to quite grok is that Marston knew this as well as anyone. Better than anyone, probably. You can go online and find quote after quote with Marston talking about how much he likes seeing strong women bound, how much he likes to submit…and how all of this relates to his feminism. (The top of this recent post includes a few examples of Marston holding forth.) In other words, Marston isn’t some weird idiot savant who didn’t know what he was doing. He put the bondage in there because it tied in (as it were) in very specific ways with what he thought about gender relations and with his (perverted, but real) vision of feminism.

So Moore goes on to say that this weird supposedly-for-young-girls-but-actually-stroke-material vibe is “one of the only really interesting and unique things about the [Wonder Woman] comic book…we’d do well to create a similar coy but suggestive edifice for the new Glory”

I think there are a number of problems with that comment. First, to say that the bondage/feminism is “one of the only” interesting things about Marston’s run is really confused — that’s the only thing in Marston’s run, practically speaking! That’s what it’s about! That’s the whole kit and kaboodle! Marston examines it obsessively, from every level, and very self-consciously.

The point here is in that second bit, where Moore says that “we’d do well to create a similar coy but suggestive edifice for the new Glory.” Okay…but Marston wasn’t about being “coy but suggestive.” He was about expounding a feminist/utopian philosophy which he was invested in for erotic as well as philosophical reasons. Moore gets the exploitation, but misses the rest of it — and so what he comes up with is “coy but suggestive”, with some bondage elements and eroticism and a semi-closeted lesbian admirer/companion for Glory. In other words, he wants to do somewhat subtle PG-13 exploitation — which is fine, and could be very entertaining…but I’d argue (and have argued recently) that Marston was doing something different. Among other things that “something” involved his compromised, bizarre, but genuine commitment to a female readership — somthing that Moore’s proposal explicitly doesn’t have (Moore says he wants to “prime the story with plenty of open spaces for the readers’ filthy, disgusting thirteen year-old mind to inhabit” — and I don’t think the mind he’s thinking of belongs to a girl.)

None of which is to say that Glory wouldn’t have been fun to read. There are even a couple of points where Moore’s series might have improved on the original: Moore, for example, actually seems interested in Glory’s secret identity, and was eager to write stories about it, whereas Marston (at least as far as I’ve seen) seems to have included Diana Prince because, well, super-heroes have secret identities, and it’s not too much trouble to put her in a couple of panels per story.

Overall, though I seriously doubt that Glory would have been as loopy, as funny, or anywhere near as good as those old Marston comics. It’s not too hard to be more self-aware than Siegel and Shuster and Mort Weisinger, and craft a series of Supreme stories that are able to encompass the joy of the originals and add some more thoughtful reflections as well. Trying to do the same thing with Wonder Woman, though…well, it’s not at all clear to me that Moore is more self-aware than Marston, and it’s entirely clear to me that his grasp of the material is less thoughtful and less original. Moore has done some things I like probably as much as the old WW comics…but Supreme wasn’t one of those things, and reading this proposal, it’s very hard for me to see how Glory could have been either. (It might have been the best take on WW short of Marston, I suppose…but I’ve been arguing at some length that second best Wonder Woman is not an especially high bar.)

And you know what? Even if Moore did somehow manage to write as well as Marston, Harry Peter’s art would kick ass on any lame-ass nineties super-hero hack who Liefield dragged in. (There’s a faint suggestion in the proposal that Moore was thinking of bringing in Melinda Gebbie to do some work on the title; I suspect [Update: on the basis of no actual evidence, I should add] that she’s the “Peters stylist” he alludes to. And she would be better than a standard super-hero artist…but she’s nowhere near as good as Peter himself.)

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I was hoping to talk about Promethea here as well, but this post is long enough already, so I’ll probably save that for tomorrow…or possibly next week, depending on how things go….

Update: A follow up post is here

Procrastination Bill Jr.

Checking email, something new from the Cinefamily at the Silent Movie Theater. Not sure how I got on their list, since I’ve been to LA just once, but the theater seems worth another trip. Movies for the month:

Actually, I just wanted to point everyone to the glorious Kevin H. cover for the March-April 09 cover. Funny how Keaton’s Great Stone Face doesn’t look Kevin H. at all while everything else does, and works so well.

And to put off finding Form 8903.