Those summertime comics memories…

Originally published June 15, 2001, in Comics Buyer’s Guide #1439

Assorted stuff…

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 Oh yes… summertime memories of comics…

There I was, six years old, relaxing on a playground, hearing the sounds of childish laughter from all around. I was leaning against a tree, enjoy a cool breeze wafting from the east. I was reading a Harvey Comic, the adventures of Casper.

I heard a low chuckle and looked up. Several boys towered over me. They appeared to be behemoths, gargantuan in stature. In retrospect, they were probably about nine years old.

“Look at the baby reading baby comics!” they hooted, grabbed it out of my hand and ripped it to shreds, leaving me fighting back tears.

Ah, summer memories…

Let us now applaud Marvel Comics.

Marvel has recently announced that it will be dispensing with the seal of the Comics Code Authority, to be replaced by an in-house-generated means of labeling. Now I’ve never been a big fan of labeling on principle, but I’ve always supported the right of individual publishers to make that decision. And in any event, it’s certainly preferable to the CCA label, a mark not dissimilar to the mark of Cain considering that—no matter how much time passes—it still carries with it the stain of an organization developed (in part) specifically to drive EC Comics out of business.

On top of that, publishers have always had their own in-house guidelines, formal or informal, and have adhered to those. In some cases those guidelines are even stricter than the CCA. So why not follow the preferences of those who are actually putting out the books, rather than a reviewing organization whose only option when they disapprove of a book—as Bill Jemas pointed out—is to withhold its seal, thereby not warning parents at all if there’s something in the comic that they feel is inappropriate. I mean, you could argue that the absence of the label should theoretically be enough, but c’mon: Who looks to be guided by something that isn’t there? Besides, there’s enough comics coming out which don’t bear the seal as a matter of course to make its absence not particularly noticeable.

The decision has caused a stir in some quarters that Marvel is going to start putting in all manner of material that would make its titles inappropriate for younger readers. I don’t know that that’s going to happen. Will Marvel start up a line of “Mature” comics? Possibly. It wouldn’t be unprecedented in its history: Remember Epic Comics? And DC has Vertigo, after all. But I seriously doubt that the dropping of the CCA is going to prompt explicit sex scenes for Peter Parker, or cause Ben Grimm or Wolverine to start cussing up a blue streak (and what is a blue streak, actually? I’ve never understood that. Why should the color blue be associated with dirty words? Blue is a very unfilthy color. The sky on a gorgeous day, is blue. Noble lineage is referred to as blue bloods. Blue is the field on the stars and stripes. Blues is the soul music of an entire people. A bride is supposed to having something blue on her. So if you’re using dirty words, why a blue streak? A blue streak, by association, should be clean and pure and soulful. Brown streak. That makes more sense. Anyone who’s ever had to launder a kid’s underwear will tell you about how unpleasant a brown streak can be. Tough to come out, not real pleasant to deal with. Yeah. Curse up a brown streak. I like it. But I digress…)

What Marvel has really done is taken personal responsibility for its line. There’ll be no hiding behind the CCA if a storm rolls in over content; then again, the CCA was always a tattered umbrella at best, unknown to most parents as any sort of guide and rather irrelevant in terms of protection.

* * *

Oh, yes, summertime memories of comics…

There I was, fourteen years old, lying on a towel near the community pool. I was reading a copy of Spider-Man.

“Hi,” I heard a musical voice say, and couldn’t believe it. It was Debbie Foster, whom I’d had a crush on for two years. I couldn’t believe she was noticing me. She was wearing a two-piece blue-and-white checked bathing suit, and was toweling dry her hair. I’d never seen anything as sensuous in my young life. “I didn’t know you came here.”

“Sometimes,” I said, trying to keep my voice from cracking.

She glanced at the comic. “Are you holding that for your little brother?” she inquired.

“No,” I said, and the moment I saw the reaction in her eyes, I knew I’d blown it. I read comics. To her, that meant I was an idiot.

“Oh. Well… see you around,” she said, and walked quickly away.

Ah, summer memories…

* * *

Now that Marvel’s taking responsibility for its line, it might want to start taking responsibility for making life bearable for its writers.

Every month, DC sends out bundles of comics to the various folks who produce the titles. To some degree it’s a courtesy, a perk. But it serves an even more valuable purpose: It enables writers to stay apprised of what the heck is going on in other titles. Marvel, for what I can only presume is cost-cutting purposes, doesn’t send out comps anymore. Or if it does, it’s only to a handful of folks.

Do you have any idea what a pain in the butt it is to plan stories in a shared universe wherein no one shares. Any given month there may be developments with villains I was thinking of using, heroes I was thinking of guest-starring, or even my own character, showing up in another title without my knowing the developments therein. Nor is there any clear, consistent means of always knowing who’s going to be available in the coming months, or if there are going to be any major changes in the character’s status. Yeah, yeah, I know, we could always read Diamond Previews. But saying “The Absorbing Man guest stars in Thor!” isn’t good enough. It would help to know if, by the end of that issue, the Absorbing Man is going to be in one piece… literally.

For that matter, it also helps to know the types of stories other writers are doing, just so you don’t wind up producing a storyline that is too similar. Fans just love to claim rip-offs.

Theoretically editors should be monitoring this stuff, but that still guarantees that writers’ access to info is going to be catch-as-catch-can. What Marvel desperately needs is a monthly update synopsizing everything that happened in every Marvel title, which would then be circulated to all writers. Furthermore, it also needs a regularly published “directory” (call it “Who’s Where”) of Marvel heroes and villains, detailing current status and availability (so we don’t have Venom showing up in four titles simultaneously.) Especially if Marvel now has effectively two sets of universes (regular and Ultimate) to keep track of.

This wouldn’t be that hard to do if you get the right person. Peter Sanderson certainly comes to mind: Sanderson used to be Marvel’s continuity maven, and then he was let go in one of the purges some years ago. He knows this stuff better than anyone. Bring him back to help facilitate some sort of organized checklist. Hëll, you don’t even have to mail it; these days just about every writer is online, so it can be emailed.

If Marvel doesn’t feel it owes writers the courtesy of free comics, at the very least it owes writers the courtesy of enabling us to do our jobs as efficiently and error-free as possible.

* * *

Oh, yes, summertime memories of comics…

I was sitting on the subway, sweltering in the broken air conditioning. I was two days shy of my thirtieth birthday. Suddenly a gorgeous, exotic red-haired woman sat down next to me, looking around as if concerned she was being followed. “Don’t ask any questions,” she said quickly, grabbed my face and kissed me. Her lips were thick and tasted of the pine barrens. My eyes were startled, wide-open, and at that moment I saw a swarthy man walk past, glancing right and left, obviously searching for someone. Quickly I closed my eyes, giving in to the moment.

The moment he was gone, we broke contact. I blinked, an owl in broad daylight, and she quickly thrust a copy of Shazam #1 into my hands. “Get out here,” she said quickly as the train rolled into the station.

“But this isn’t my stop,” I said. “It’s 23^rd Street. I was—”

“Get out here, drop the comic in the mailbox at the corner of 23^rd and 7^th, if you value your country’s freedom.” Quickly she got up, walked in the opposite direction that the swarthy man had gone, and out of my life.

I did as she said. I got out, went to the mailbox, which was right where she said it was. I dropped the comic in the box, jiggling the door to make sure it went in. I couldn’t help but note that the comic made a faintly metallic “thunk” when it went in. I turned, walked away quickly. When I was half a block away, the mailbox blew up. I still have a scar where a flying piece of metal nicked my right arm.

Ah, summer memories…

* * *

I’m still getting mail about DVD coding. All the things I talk about every week, all the stands I take, and that’s what gets me a record flow of mail? I mean, geez, when I defended Harlan Ellison’s lawsuit against AOL et al, I was prepared for hate letters from people who didn’t want their free downloading copyright-violation fun interfered with. But this war of techno-words regarding DVDs is driving me to distraction. And everyone keeps accusing me of spreading “misinformation” whenever I print someone else’s letter, as if I should “know better” somehow. As for me, I’ve still got 12:00 blinking on my VCR; I don’t understand what you guys are talking about, and at this point, I don’t care. For the love of God, just send them to “Oh So” and leave me the hëll alone, okay?

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Oh, yes, summertime memories of comics…

I’m 44 years old, the summer right around the corner, and I get email from CBG telling me this issue must, absolutely must, feature summertime recollections of comics. I don’t have any. I’m sure sometime, somewhere, something happened during a summer that was comics related, but it didn’t make an impression, and I wasn’t paying attention because I didn’t know there was gonna be a freakin’ quiz. The only thing I remember comics-related about summers, other than that summer is convention season, is that when I was a kid the mom-and-pop store where I bought comics had no air conditioning, and one large ceiling fan that hadn’t worked since the Eisenhower administration. So the place always smelled bad. Go try and make a column out of that.

So I made stuff up. I’m a writer. That’s what I do. Deal with it.

Have a nice summer.

(Peter David, writer of stuff, can be written to at Second Age, Inc., PO Box 239, Bayport, NY 11705.)