Bamf

July 12, 1991

Something must be said about this, the end of an era. About Chris Claremont making his surprising X-it from the X-books.

When I was about 19 or so, I had been cold turkey off comics.

For some years, I had quit them completely, as I noted in a previous column, when I was 13, because I was concerned that guys who read comics weren’t cool-looking and were never going to get any girls. However, by age 19,1 had a regular girlfriend and wasn’t concerned about losing her (indeed, I didn’t; in fact, a couple years later, I married her).

The other problem about buying comics years previously had been that the only comics outlet was a stationery /card store, where the owner looked at me like I was some kind of drooling idiot every time I purchased a “funny book.” This, however, was in New Jersey, home of drooling idiots. (Hey! I lived there for 13 years. I paid my dues. I’m entitled to cut up New Jersey, if I feel like it. So there. Nyaah.) When I was 19, I was working part time for a newspaper in Pennsylvania, the humiliation of that Jersey card store long gone. And outside the newspaper office was a newsstand that carried comics. It was right on the way. I couldn’t help but see them as I walked in.

And one day, I happened to notice that X-Men was on the stands.

X-Men, the only title in history to go into reruns during the numbering of its own title. X-Men, up until that time, probably held the record for as many stories reprinted as printed in the first place.

I had always enjoyed X-Men. There had been something about it that earned it its own special niche in my heart. Perhaps it was the fact that it was about an entire group of misfits. Kind of Spider-Man cubed. The Fantastic Four lived on their own little urban Mount Olympus and were revered. The Avengers were lionized. But everyone hated The X-Men’s guts. For anyone who has ever thought, “Well, I’m just as good as this guy; so how come this guy has so many friends and I’ve got none?” this was definitely the group.

But this crew that graced the cover of X-Men #95 looked strange. In fact, I stared at them and thought, “How weird. Here’s a title called X-Men, and it doesn’t have any of the X-Men on it.”

I looked left and right, to make sure that no one from the old neighborhood in New Jersey (roughly 100 miles away) happened to be wandering down the street. And then I bought it. I bought my first copy of a monthly comic book in more than five years.

I read it and immediately gravitated to these new characters.

At least Scott was still around, and Charles Xavier. I didn’t know who the rest of the crew were, but they seemed likeable enough. Very colorful. The old Trek fan in me appreciated the ethnic combination, reminiscent of the bridge of the Enterprise. I thought Storm was a babe and wondered which of the other team members she was going to fall in love with. (Answer: None.] And I thought Wolverine was obnoxious, and so was Thunderbird, although that wasn’t a problem for very long.

A few weeks after that, a comics convention was advertised. Fired up by this new group, I went to the convention and picked up a copy of X-Men #94, cover price. And I asked one retailer, “Have these guys made any other appearances?”

“Yeah,” he said, and pulled out a copy of Giant Size X-Men #l. It was stickered at $1.50, but the convention was winding down, so he gave it to me for a buck.

After reading that, I discovered that Wolverine had first appeared in Hulk #180-181, so I sought out back issues of those and picked each of those up for about a buck or so.

Who knew?

Who knew that Chris Claremont would be picking up the reins of the team that Len Wein created and leading them on a mixed and merry chase for 15 years? I mean, it’s crazy when you realize that there are now X-books coming out every single week, and when I started reading the comic book, it was coming out bimonthly. Can you imagine Marvel’s fiscal health, if the series had never gained the popularity it did and it was still coming out bimonthly? Take away the mutant titles and what have you got? Well, Ghost Rider. Punisher. Ah, but it was the aggressive, kick-butt Wolverine who cleared the decks for hero/villains with weaponry and an attitude. Without them, that leaves–

Zip.

It has been stated that Alan Moore was the first writer to show that the writer and writer alone can make a difference in the sales of a comic book. I would disagree with that. Look at the history of The X-Men over the last decade and a half. Artists have come and gone, but the constant has been the writer. Has been Claremont.

There have been up periods and down, hot sequences and sequences that weren’t so hot.

There’s a reason for this. Claremont’s human. Yes, true believers, despite what some may say, Chris Claremont has not been writing the comic books for so long that he’s now a mutant.

Chris’s strength has always been ideas and characterization (God knows it’s not tying up loose ends), and the mutant comic books have always been replete with both. Sometimes to the point of obscuring the storyline. Sometimes to the point of making you scratch your head and wonder just what the hëll the storyline was in the first place.

When I first picked up X-Men, it was eminently accessible. But there were only a few issues out. Now there’ve been a tad more, and it’s extremely difficult to jump on board. The title’s greatest strength– its complexity– can also be argued to be its greatest weakness. For some time now there have been promises that X-Men is going to be simpler, easier to follow. And it hasn’t been. With Chris leaving, fans might now say, “Ah hah! Now things are going to get cleared up!”

Except–

Do you really want them to?

I mean, as much as fans crab and moan about the complexity, and the dangling storylines and the occasional total confusion, it also seems to be those same elements that keep people coming back month after month. I have generally found that fans want what they want until they get it, at which point they don’t want it any more.

Lord knows, following the tangled skein of the mutant titles wasn’t easy but, oddly enough, I don’t recall reading a rule anywhere that said that just because a story was in a comic book, it necessarily had to be easy. X-Men broke a lot of the conventional wisdom of comics; it also sold the most for the longest period of time.

I wish John Byrne luck on following Claremont’s act. I personally would not have wanted to attempt it. I personally would have felt too intimidated by the massiveness of the mutant universe that Chris has created. I don’t need the aggravation or the fan microscope– I’m content with the relatively clean slate of X-Factor.

Although it was Dave Cockrum who helped breathe life into the characters at their inception (and reached new heights with the Starjammers storyline), it was Claremont and Byrne together who really put the series on the map.

Cockrum’s favorite character was Nightcrawler, but Byrne’s was Wolverine and, as the more picturesque berserker cut his way into the limelight (especially with his of-necessity slaying of a guard in the Savage Land), so, too, did the X-Men’s star rise. But when Byrne left right after the Sigourney Pryde Meets the Alien issue, Chris was still there, plugging away.

It was his consistent hand, his understanding of the characters, and his unbounded imagination that kept the series ever on the rise, while other flashes in the pan have topped it, only to fall away_ or be canceled altogether.

Some fans grumble that Chris is only as good as his artist. Hot news flash, kids: Same goes for any writer, because the art is what people see, and the majority of readers will not cut through sub-par art, even for an above-average story. Not to mention the fact that artists, if their page layout or storytelling is poor, can hamper scripting abilities.

Did Chris repeat himself, repeat themes? Of course he did.

All writers do. Sometimes the overfamiliarity with Chris bred contempt among some readers who didn’t realize the incredible difficulty and sheer feat of turning out a comic book month after month after month– or with even greater frequency, when you add in limited series, annuals, etc.

X-Men was (and, I hope, will continue to be) a series where anything could happen. Characters could die (and die and die and die and–), their personalities and interrelationships could change over time, their entire look could change (remember when punk Storm first walked on panel?), and, every so often, Chris could even poke fun at the characters (my favorite being when Wolverine was applying mousse to his hair, thereby answering the longstanding question of how he got it to stay that way; and in the course of doing so, moussed his hair and sideburns to give it the look it had during the Havok/ Wolverine limited series before he shook his head, said “Nah,” and returned it to its usual state).

Chris has stated on various open forums that one of several points of contention that prompted him to leave was his intention to have, as an element of a storyline (and since it’s not being used, I’m not giving anything away here), that Charles Xavier suffer the loss of his telepathic abilities as a consequence of battle. That he became the telepathic equivalent of a deafmute. That this loss of power would be a truly hideous thing for him to suffer through, far more devastating than any physical injury And he was told that he couldn’t do it, because it wasn’t visual enough.

Two things occurred to me in this respect: first, that this is the second time Chris wanted to do a storyline like that. The first time was with Jean, when she went berserk as Phoenix. Chris wanted to have her psychically lobotomized. Living hëll for a telepath.

And he was told then that he couldn’t do it, because (according to all accounts on the subject) Jim Shooter said she had to die because she blew up the planet of broccoli heads. As a result, Jean died, causing a major loss of focus for the series from which, I feel, it never quite completely recovered.

So, if I can offer a piece of advice to future mutant writers, it would be to avoid storylines wherein characters lose telepathic abilities. It seems to be a really hexed plot. Either you lose major characters or else leave titles altogether.

The other thing I don’t quite understand is the “not visual enough” objection. I mean, Peter Parker worrying about Aunt May wasn’t visual. Reed and Sue’s rocky romance wasn’t visual (except when Namor kidnapped her and fought Reed for her, which was pretty neat– especially when an infuriated Reed turned his body into spikes). Cyclops and Jean thinking sad thought balloons about each other wasn’t visual. Marvel built its entire foundation on inward angst. Why is it that such story elements now aren’t acceptable? Is it going back to a response to the fan demand for simplicity? Is there concern that if it’s not right there in the artwork, then fans won’t “get it”? That it’s not enough for emotional trauma to be a problem? I don’t think so. I sure hope not.

Because if that’s the case, then everyone could lose, and the Marvel Universe could just quite possibly wind up–

X-Tinct.

Peter David, writer of stuff is intending to stress character interaction and group dynamics in X-Factor and so far hasn’t had a single problem with doing so. This is, of course, presuming he’s still got a job after this column sees print.