Somnopolis

The debut novel of Austin Grossman is a strange beast. It’s a novel that at its heart is a love letter to comic books, the bastard cousin of the more refined print-based artform, criticised in the past as a childish interest suitable only for illiterates. Grossman himself is feted as a newcomer to genre fiction, although a quick wiki reveals his father is a poet, his mother a novelist, his twin brother also a writer, his sister a scultor – and Grossman himself well-known in the computer game industry for his involvement in

• Ultima Underworld II
• System Shock
• Deus Ex
• Thief: Deadly Shadows
• Tomb Raider: Legend

Plot based Role-Playing Games for the most part, hardly the usual first-time author juvenalia. He’s even written for the New York Times! Then there’s the promotional artwork of Bryan Hitch that features in the book, the comic-book artist credited with inventing the ‘widescreen’, aesthetic that has allowed comics to further ape the visual excesses of big budget summer blockbuster movies. Not the typical amateur cover art then.

Thankfully Soon I Will Be Invincible carries the weight of expectation ably. Its knowing title is a clue to the awareness Grossman brings to the comic book tropes on show. The story focuses on two first-person narratives. Doctor Impossible, a twelve-time imprisoned supervillain who has a horrible habit of blurting his secret plans and blames his villainous behaviour on a personality disorder; and Fatale, a new superheroine plagued by self-doubt in the typical Modern Age fashion, whose tragic origin allows for that other great trope of contemporary comics, the fetishizing of the female body courtesy of her cybernetic implants. Star Trek: Voyager’s Seven-of-Nine meets Brian Michael Bendis’ Alias.

Doctor Impossible, the arch supervillain who just will not quit trying to take over the world, is the stronger character of the two. Given the title I suspect the original draft may have solely focused on his attempts to defeat the hero team The Champions. Perhaps Grossman felt this was too narrow. In any case courtesy of the two POV characters we follow the progression of the plot, with the heroes attempting to stop Doctor Impossible following his latest jailbreak and solve the mystery of their colleague CoreFire’s disappearance.

We are invited to sympathize with the villainous Doc, despite his continued efforts to takeover the world. Even he is unable to explain exactly why he acts as he does. He appears to be of the opinion that his vast intellect actually drives him to be evil, that to see the world as he does predestines supervillainy. In that he follows the Stan Lee tradition of villains who are at times misunderstood, occasionally even noble. Doctor Doom may be a totalitarian dictator whose hatred of Reed Richards is spurred on by vanity – but he also is a bereft son, whose study of the occult was undertaken to rescue his gypsy mother from demons. In Kevin Smith’s Mallrats Lee makes a cameo appearance and delivers dialogue he wrote for the Spider-Man villain the Vulture, which revealed a vulnerable side to the costumed criminal another writer may have ignored.

Grossman’s Doctor Impossible is also not a world away from Joss Whedon’s Dr Horrible, or The Venture Brothers’  The Monarch – both ultimately delusional romantics who have been left disillusioned by the world. The heroes to them are merely the next stage in development of the schoolyard bullies they grew up with. CoreFire’s invulnerability lends him a smugness that’s similar to Whedon’s Captain Hammer: Everyone’s a hero in their own way / Everyone’s got villains they must face / They’re not as cool as mine / But folks you know it’s fine to know your place

The post-Marvel Age, post-Watchmen deconstruction trend allowed writers to re-examine superheroes with regard to their motivations and true intent. Batman became a psychopath, the X-Men child soldiers in a battle of ideologies, Superman a fascist boyscout and the Incredible Hulk a victim of abuse. Grossman plays with this exaggerated comic book ‘realism’, but undercuts it with genuine affection for supers.

At one point Fatale even wonders self-consciously if we have entered a ‘Rust Age’, in keeping with the classifying of different comic book periods as Golden Age, Silver Age etc. The general rule of thumb is that the earlier comic books represent a more hopeful era. Comic book historians have to turn a blind eye to the prevalent racism and misogyny to maintain such a claim, but it’s one that still holds some currency. Fatale herself, with her badgirl look and militarised powers is firmly in keeping with the modern era’s blending of sex and violence. Grossman has her repeatedly question her origins though, obscured by a convenient bout of amnesia and in that query the treatment of characters like Fatale, who are oftentimes designed to titillate rather than exist as independent female superheroes. That this all becomes a function of the plot itself displays just how much Grossman intended the book to be both a critique and a homage to the comics he loves.

Soon I Will Be Invincible I was gratified to discover is much more than a printed version of some gamer’s Champion’s campaign. It’s quite possibly the most entertaining book about comics since Michael Chabon’s The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay.

Dylan Dog is the kind of guy I would like to have a beer with. He lists nightmare investigator as his profession. Dawn of the Dead is his idea of a romantic movie. His best friend is a Groucho Marx impersonator who believes he is Groucho! He also lives in a strange alternate London that enjoys a certain Continental atmosphere, where one can order a coffee and croissant in a local bar.

The character was created for the best-selling eponymous Italian comic book series by Tiziano Sclavi and bears an uncanny resemblance to Rupert Everett. Dylan Dog is a horror tale with a difference. Sourcing a bewildering array of material, such as Italian giallo pictures, Romero’s zombie films, even American horror comic anthologies, it wines and dines post-modern tropes years before Grant Morrison’s seminal Animal Man book. Characters frequently resemble movie actors, with Vincent Price and Mickey Rourke also making appearances. An elderly dwarf calls attention to Dylan’s resemblance to Everett, which he politely responds to. Then she suddenly insists he looks nothing like the English actor. I was reminded of the cute moment in Hard Day’s Night between John Lennon and the confused lady backstage.

In keeping with Dylan Dog’s job title, the mood of the book is often dreamlike, with sudden lurches into graphic violence and then relief courtesy of casual absurdity. Groucho, renamed Felix for the Dark Horse English language translation, tends to spout off inane jokes even when surrounded by marauding hordes of the undead. Dylan has a habit of falling head over heels in love at a moment’s notice, risking everything for his latest inamorata, but often complaining of his inability to commit to one woman. Hints are liberally dropped that an oedipal conflict is the cause of his romance problems, but our hero seems happy enough falling in love over and over again. Dylan and Groucho exist in a state of constant poverty. They rarely actually get paid for their work, as more often than not ‘the horror’, manages to find them. A former police officer, Dylan’s one-time superior inspector Bloch is a sympathetic ally who will intercede on his behalf when the law gets involved. Most, however, view the nightmare detective as a fraud and charlatan. It’s the buffoonery involved in the stories that I enjoy most. Groucho is just as likely to quote Camus as make a bad joke. Dylan Dog thankfully neatly avoids pretentiousness by refusing to take itself seriously in any way.

One storyline named Morgana has a beautiful woman arrive in London suffering from amnesia. She feels compelled to seek Dylan Dog out, but almost always just misses him and has no idea who she is looking for. Complaining constantly of extreme hunger she orders food which she does not eat, or pay for. She is also subjected to repeated nightmarish visions of London in ruins, filled with shuffling zombies, which she casually dismisses with a smile each time as just another dream. When they finally meet, Dylan himself drawn to her by some strange compulsion and they travel together in skips and starts as we do in dreams, arriving at a destination moments after having decided to go. Morgana leads Dylan back to her hometown of Undead in Scotland (which I’m fairly sure is not on the map), which also just happens to be the site of a previous adventure of his, Dawn of the Living Dead, were he defeated the devilish Xabaras. Turns out Morgana is yet another of the fiend’s ghouls and possibly a relative of Dylan’s. Xabaras also makes frequent mention of our hero’s absent father. The hints start to drop like anvils. What’s interesting is Xabaras implies Morgana’s resurrection is due to Dylan having been attracted to her after a brief glimpse in the previous adventure. Sure enough, turn back the pages to Dawn of the Living Dead in the Dark Horse collection and there she is, one of the lumbering zombies that pursue Dylan at the conclusion of the adventure.

Morgana is one of the most post-modern of Scalvi’s storylines, an entire plot designed to accuse the reader of being attracted to a panel of art featuring a naked female zombie. Dylan encounters a troubled comic book writer, standing in for Scalvi himself, who is the author of his own series. The author reacts with horror when he sees Morgana in London and later is shown changing the ending to the climactic confrontation between Dylan and Xabaras. Once he has finished with the issue, we see the comic book writer put down his pen and leave his studio, to a London in ruins filled with zombies.

I am not sure if Scalvi found inspiration in Lamberto Bava’s Demons, which is a film about cinema patrons being victimized by the film itself that they are watching, somehow acting as a gateway to evil forces. Morgana is po-mo, but not po-faced, as it has fun with its own version of ‘the medium is the message’. The writer figure is trapped within the same nightmare that he has created. Whether or not Bava is an influence, cinema continues to be a source of material for Scalvi, with Memoirs From The Invisible World riffing on slasher films and Zed seemingly a tribute to Andrei Tarkovsky’s Stalker, with Dylan encountering a man who sells his services as a guide to a strange, otherworldly realm that lies on the other side of a wall in central London.

It seems that cinema is quite fond of Dylan Dog too, with the upcoming adaptation by Kevin Munroe Dead of Night soon to be released with Brandon Routh in the lead role. Dellamorte Dellamore directed by Michele Soavi will for a while longer at least be considered the definitive cinema version of Scalvi’s character though. Starring Rupert Everett, who apparently was unaware he had been transformed into a comic book character, it tells the tragic story of Francesco Dellamorte, an Italian doppelganger of Dylan Dog’s, who even wears the same clothes. Assigned the ignoble duty of working in the local graveyard, he has also taken it upon himself to eliminate the revenants of the recently deceased, muttering half-heartedly ‘it’s what they pay me to do’. Released to little fanfare in the US as Cemetary Man, Dellamorte Dellamore is one of my favourite films, a true cult classic, which like Scalvi’s other work also borrows from cinematic sources such as George Romero, Dario Argento, and Fellini’s Toby Dammit. When I read that it was related to a comic book series, with the amusing insight that Rupert Everett had been unwittingly cast as the hero, it inspired me to hunt down the original Dylan Dog books.

Which are now lovingly presented for English-speaking readers by Dark Horse in a phone-book sized collected edition, so you have absolutely no excuse not to read them. Dylan Dog – a different kind of horror comic. Just as likely to make you laugh out loud as give you the creeps.

I mentioned here before that I am really looking forward to the film adaptation of Black Hole, in my opinion one of the strangest comic book series in recent years. A ragged hole of a story that leaves you drained afterwards, with horrifying visuals nesting alongside Burns’ evocative description of 1970s America.

The story charts the progress of a disfiguring virus known as ‘the Bug’, through a small-town in Seattle, seeming to target teenagers. We never see an adult infected by the disease, which physically changes those who have contracted it, causing them to grow vistigial organs, or deforming their appearance.

Our main protagonists are Chris, a teenage girl who catches the bug during a one-night stand; and Keith, something of a lost soul who is easily taken advantage of by his friends. During the course of the story both become infected by the bug, but react very differently. The virus itself appears to be spread through sexual contact, which is why so many teenagers become carriers. Many are  forced to leave the community and sleep rough in the woods. One scene in the first issue has Keith and his friends casually discuss how the popular Rob Facincani has caught the bug. “Man…that’s the last we’ll see of that guy” one of them says. Like anything else that occurs during adolescence, the bug itself, this horrible, disfiguring disease, has due to its selective infection of teenagers become just so much fuel for gossip. The boys laugh it up and get stoned. Tomorrow is another day.

Throughout the series our perspective shrinks more and more. The events are narrated to us by either Chris or Keith and sometimes when they cross paths we are treated to the same scene from a different perspective. Think a body-horror twist on Kurosawa’s Roshomon, that appears to be the feel Burns is aiming for. As this review points out hyperbole is a recurring feature of the dialogue. Chris and Keith both swear their undying love for their respective partners at different points in the story and a tragedy that slowly unfolds throughout the series is kicked off by a withdrawn young man’s delusional obsession with a girl.

Time is disjointed, we skip and jump back and forth through various character’s lives, and the story even indulges in dreamlike visions of the future, due to either drugs or unconscious prophecy. Rob’s own symptoms of the disease prove extremely unfortunate, as he develops a small mouth just below the hollow of his neck that has a tendency to speak aloud what he is thinking. Claustrophobia sets in with each of the teens becoming increasingly isolated from their friends and families. The bug serves to reinforce how alienating adolescence can be.

This is familiar territory for fans of Buffy the Vampire Slayer which also trades in using horror movie tropes as signifying the emotional excesses of adolescents. The bug dovetails nicely as a dual-metaphor for the bodily changes caused by growing up and the mystery of sex itself. Chris is infected by Rob after he mistakenly assumes she knows he has the disease and does not care. Keith contracts it from a partner with a vestigial puppy tail. He never seems to make the connection that she has the bug. Her willingness to sleep with him overrides any concerns he may have. Teenage self-absorption, dream logic and stoned hallucinations combine to form an heady mix of the uncanny, which Burns expertly interweaves with the seeming mundane lives of these characters.

Re-reading the issues I am reminded of some early difficulties I had with the comic. I love Burns’ artwork, but occasionally have problems telling characters apart. Keith has a monobrow and Rob a small goatee, but aside from that they could be twins. The jumps in time and their physical resemblance combined to confuse the hell out of me when I first began reading the book, having come in mid-way through the series. I was convinced Keith was Chris’ boyfriend and while he is attracted to her, they never actually hook up. Perhaps though the homogeneity of the characters is an intentional move on the artist’s part. For their normalcy and bland faces contrast terrifically with the distorted features of the infected teens isolated from the town rooting through the garbage. The community rallies around what is familiar, expelling the strange and seemingly monstrous – although a post-script in the last issue reveals the infected eventually recover and become normal again. Too late, tragically, for some however.

My interest in Black Hole was first sparked back in 2004 when I read a rave on the now defunct Ninthart.com site. I came into the series near the end and was frustrated that I was unable to find back issues. So much so that later that same year I spent most of a brief holiday in Amsterdam searching for issues in various comic stores around the city. Thankfully I managed to get my hands on the whole set, though a trade hardback collecting the entire series is now available.

There was also news of a Roger Avary (currently tweeting from prison) and Neil Gaiman film script, though that has been passed on. Last I heard David Fincher still intends to direct. I am excited to see what he’ll come up with. A combination of his period detail from Zodiac, with the grotesquerie of Alien 3? A sweaty, gritty teen body horror that could rival Cronenberg’s The Fly? Here’s hoping. Burns’ work draws on the cinematic style of 70s horror cinema. It would be a homecoming of sorts to have a film version of Black Hole that lives up to the visionary excesses of the book.

Taken from today’s Bad Signal, where he discussed the casting of the adap of Red.

“Who wouldn’t want to see Helen Mirren with a sniper rifle.”

Bastard.

It’s funny how you can go through this life and miss so much. Or maybe not. A life spent watching angry nerds do ‘comedy’, online may not be ideal.

What would Socrates say! The examined life? This is a world of nostalgia, gaming, multiple movie references and cartoons. Real life died and was buried by teh internetz years ago.

Anyway, so following on from my discovery of Linkara’s channel I have burrowed further into the internet like an hungry tick with too much time on its hands and a taste for geeky things (wait ticks have hands??). I have returned with news of yet another Geek Messiah – That Guy With The Glasses.

Truly I am not fit to tie his sandals, although the number of internet-savy entertainment critics continues to grow, many of them spawned by TGWTG’s own website. Itsjustsomerandomguy and Yahtsee are other notable examples. To my mind these are all children of Mystery Science Theatre 3000. Who knew Mike, Joel and the bots were such trendsetters? Now it is almost mandatory for internet movie critics to practice their patented style of roleplay and sardonic commentary on the current Hollywood releases. In fact the Nostalgia Critic’s (another TGWTG persona) own iRiff for The Lion King was awarded by Mike Nelson and the Riffs gang as the best entry in a competition, which helped promote his material.

Real name Douglas Walker, TGWTG also produces movie reviews under the name of Chester A. Bum, a homeless man who may or may not be insane. Obviously this makes him extremely qualified to attest to the worth of films like New Moon, or Terminator Salvation. His reviews have managed to convince me that all movie critics in future should indulge in strong brain altering substances before sitting down in the cinema. It affords the only reliable defence against brainrot. Chester A. Bum was appropriately enough my gateway to Walker’s work. He begins every review with ‘OhmygodthisisthegreatesmovieI’veeverseeninmylife!’ and ends it with ‘Change! Have you got any change!’ In between we are treated to a spoilerific run-through of the latest blockbuster, complete with A. Bum acting out various scenes.

Treat yourself to his latest New Moon review, it really is something special.

Walker understands the value of a memorable catchphrase having come up with a few for the Nostalgia Critic and his ‘Ask…’ personas. This is criticism as interactive entertainment – see his Top 11 F&*k Ups for how he responds to criticism of his own site. He also sketches a nice line in promoting unappreciated classics, whether they be Babe: Pig In The City, or The Rescuers Down Under. Funnily enough Walker was already reminding me a little of the nerdy “nemesises” from Buffy’s sixth season, The Trio, before he echoed Andrew’s Babe recommendation. Perhaps Whedon was on to something in that season after all. The nerds have swooped in to fill the critical vacuum left on the internet by the major media players, their DIY aesthetic a lot more appealing than the flashbangwhallop glitz of Murdoch websites like IGN, or Fox.

For all his natural charm and amusing embrace of nostalgia, Walker cannot be forgiven for his disgusting review of Batman and Robin. Featured among his ‘5 Second Movies‘ collection, the video shows graphic footage of someone defecating into a toilet. Typical of overblown fanboy reactions to mainstream studio adaptations of nerd properties. I found the ‘review’, indefensible. Much as audiences of such pap have a right to feel angry, posting a video so revolting as the Batman and Robin NSFW online is just another example of the extremes fanboy manchilds feel compelled to go to in their continuing need to express just how important cartoons, comics and ‘the Force’, are in their lives. I see no difference between the 5 Second Movies feature and what happened to the unfortunate Doctor Who comic book writer, who received a package containing human faeces in the mail from a disgruntled fan.

I was very disappointed that TGWTG saw fit to publish that video on his site. It detracted from his more qualified and affectionate reviews of childhood favourites, although the feature on the 80’s gaming classic The Wizard soon had me smiling again. I don’t see a world of difference between this South Park-style extreme fanboyism and the antics of radio shock jocks. This is where the now tiresome ‘gatekeepers’, debate regarding print journalism versus free form online content raises its ugly head again. I would like to think certain standards should be maintained, if only in the name of the presentation of ideas. A recurring feature of fanboys is their inability to communicate. I expect more from someone as obviously intelligent and passionate as TGWTG.

It’s too early to guess where this trend in internet criticism will lead to. The thought of Yahtsee being our generation’s Cahier du Cinema, is slightly disturbing. But then take a gander at what is raking in the dollars at the box office this weekend.

Brrrrr.

The success of J. K. Rowling Harry Potter series was a starting pistol for children’s books, with literary agents searching the land for the next bestseller phenomenon. Thankfully many interesting writers have managed to ride this wave of enthusiasm. However, children’s literature has appealed to talented writers for years, with the advantage of writing for an audience whose imaginations are less troubled by having to suspend disbelief. Terry Pratchett gave a much remarked upon interview disputing that Pottermania had ushered in children’s literature. Stories told for an audience of children are nothing new. From Aesops Fables to the Brothers Grimm, Enid Blyton to Maurice Sendak – kids remain eager listeners when storytime comes round.

Author Sarah Webb has asked for recommendations of the best ten children’s books from the last ten years. I find I still enjoy reading books that the younger Me would have liked. The pleasure remains the same. In fact the older I am the more I appreciate the difficulty of writing a memorable book for children.

In no particular order:

Philip Pullman  – His Dark Materials

Michael Chabon  – Summerland

Terry Pratchett  – Nation

Lemony Snicket  – A Series of Unfortunate Events

Brian K. Vaughan  – Runaways

Philip Reeves  – Mortal Engines

Eoin Colfer  – Artemis Fowl series

S. E. Connolly  – Damsel

Jeff Smith  – Shazam! The Monster Society of Evil

Philip Pullman understands the importance of crafting a story that will live in the minds of its readers. Take his early attempts at science fiction for adults, the now out of print Galatea, and compare it to the excellent His Dark Materials trilogy. Pullman wants to use his writing to impart his view of the world and challenge received ideas of social order and the nature of religious authority. Whereas the magic realism of his adult fiction falters, the adventures of Lyra and Will, pursued by agents of the Church across two worlds, manages to illustrate concisely how adulthood can be compromised by good intentions and failure of imagination. Children in Pullman’s universe are the ultimate rebels, as they have the freedom to think differently. He is the modern standard bearer for G. K. Chesterton’s much quoted phrase - Fairy tales are more than true — not because they tell us dragons exist, but because they tell us dragons can be beaten.

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay is possibly the best book yet written about the comic book industry, a  fictional version of events that gives a greater sense for the history of what those men stooped over flattened squares in the years following WWII endured while dreaming up new heroes for their century. Summerland is equally epic in scope, Michael Chabon’s attempt to write an American fantasy novel to rival C. S. Lewis’ The Chronicles of Narnia. Blending imagery from Norse myth with Native American mysticism, the novel is a love song to a childhood spent on the ballpark in the summer heat. Chabon is an ambitious author and Summerland a worthy experiment with the genre.

Terry Pratchett’s Nation is more of a thought experiment for children. Try to imagine how our world would be today if the role of the Church in colonial expansion was not as strong. A Robinson Crusoe without adult characters, two children from different cultures are forced to work together to survive. Like Pullman, the question is asked of the kids reading – can you imagine a better world? Try and make it so.

Lemony Snicket’s A Series of Unfortunate Events achieves the rare feat of being both tragically sad and also whimsically comical. The entire series represents what may be the best modern fable for children published in years. Its collection of grotesques rival Mervyn Peake’s Gormenghast and the Beaudelaire children would send the Famous Five running home crying to their mothers with bloody noses. Assuming Sunny Beaudelaire didn’t bite them off. Once again these books carry the important moral that in the adult world, there is no one to rely on but oneself, but there can be relief courtesy of love and friendship along the way, while it lasts.

Runaways by Brian K. Vaughan may be an unusual inclusion. For one it’s an American comic book. Also the original creative team of writer Vaughan and artist Adrian Alphona have since moved on.  Nevertheless for its original run of 24 issues, Runaways (following the adventures of a group of children who discover their parents are supervillains and, well, go on the run) achieved the seemingly impossible in American comics. It became a classic, original comic book series. Recommended for readers young and old.

Philip Reeves won the Guardian book award for the first entry in his Mortal Engines series of books for children and it is easy to see why.  A dystopian tale with the marvelous hook that in the future cities are mobile and only the larger, ‘hungrier’, metropolises survive. The writing is dark and imaginative and the main characters are forced to grow up too soon.

Eoin Colfer has taken a lot of stick recently for writing a sequel to Douglas Adams’ Hitch-Hiker’s Guide. I feel the Wexford native was on a hiding to nowhere from the day the news broke. He was forced to compete with a dead man who still can claim a fanatical fan base and who know when they are being exploited. Better to stick to his own literary universe, the artful world of Artemis Fowl, scourge of the Fairy Folk who are surprisingly technologically advanced. A Celtic Tiger-cub who would give Irish bankers a run for their money, he wheels and deals his way through two worlds, bamboozling humans and Fairies with his intelligence and conniving. Fantastic fun.

Susan Connolly’s Damsel is the fairy tale every child should have already heard. The story of a young girl whose hero father goes missing on a quest, she ventures forth to rescue him aided only by his guidebook to heroism. Witty, imaginative and deserving of a much wider audience.

Jeff Smith’s Shazam! The Monster Society of Evil is a two-fold treat. An introduction to the greatest superhero of all for younger readers who missed him first, second and third times round; and a homage to the wonderful work of its creator C. C. Beck. When Billy Batson speaks the magic word Shazam aloud he is transformed into the hero Captain Marvel. Smith’s art references the style of Beck, while also containing some modern day satirical digs, including the villain’s resemblance to a certain member of the Bush Administration.

I find I don’t have a tenth recommendation, so instead I will mention books I am looking forward to reading, such as Margo Lanagan’s Tender Morsels, as well as Dave McKean’s illustrated collaboration with Richard Dawkins on evolutionary science for kids. Now I just need to write a story of my own.

Atop Fourth Wall – Where Bad Comics Burn is a comic review site that hosts videos from Linkara, who as the title song describes, ‘wears a purdy hat’. He’s also a funny fecker, who will someday I fear choke on his own rage at the depths the comic book industry insists on plumbing.

Just watch his new segment, ‘Miller Time’, which has left me tired and drained this morning having stayed up until the wee hours watching and trying to hold in the laughs. In the end Linkara knows what he is doing. Fanboy rage is the fuel of the industry now. Observe the negative reaction to Marvel’s One More Day event, which actually helped its success. All publicity in comics, is good publicity. So while the man in the hat rants and raves, he also scores some worthy humour points at his target’s expense. Ridicule is a far more effective way of criticising bad writing and attention seeking ‘events’ (see his review of DC’s Amazons Attack).

In the interest of full disclosure, I first encountered Linkara on Gail Simone’s YABS forum. Often accused of being a hotbed of knee-jerk liberalism, the forum has been responsible for worthy causes that its members have actively participated in, such as the now legendary Rick Olney thread; the formation of Unscrewed; a fundraising auction of comic art to help pay John Ostrander’s medical bills for glaucoma surgery. YABS also continues to host debate on Gail Simone WiR list and promotes her own books such as Secret Six and Wonder Woman. Linkara is a frequent contributor to the forum and posts new episodes when they are released. It is no surprise that he found a home on YABS, which hosts many threads using ridicule to criticise events in comics.

Atop The Fourth Wall though less known, does for comics what Mystery Science Theatre 3000/Rifftrax does for bad films and Zero Punctuation doles out to the computer game industry – serve up beat downs to the egotists and incompetents who plague the industry. It’s also funny! Bonus….

…..still chuckling about Frank Miller’s Batman being renamed Crazy Steve. Heh.

On Wednesday evening Stephanie and I went to see Kevin Smith play a gig at Vicar Street. I will probably write up a piece on that later, but I just wanted to address one aspect of his ‘talk’. Smith enjoys the format of a Q & A session, which he has half converted into a stand-up comedy gig, his anecdotes ranging across his experiences in the movie industry, the comic industry and of course his sex life. He is highly opinionated  and prone to ‘fanboyitis’, that mode of argument that in the words of Peter Griffin ‘insists upon itself‘.

Case in point – Grant Morrison’s Batman.

With a mere shrug of his shoulders (Smith’s preferred form of argumentation) he wrote off the long-running story arc of the mad Scot’s, titled Batman RIP, as a rigmarole he preferred to avoid. His own Batman stories, with the infamous Walt Flanagan, are set in some indeterminate ‘out of continuity’ period for the Bat. None of that ‘Damian’ Wayne business, or shooting Darkseid with a gun (I mean the idea!), or Dick Grayson/Nightwing stepping up to become the Batman after his mentor’s supposed death. All of that Smith would prefer to avoid.

Which comes across as a bit rich, when we were also treated to a rant on how continuity matters. Ah continuity. What is it good for, huh? The fanboys do like to discuss continuity. Essentially a status quo has to be maintained, so that while every story within the continuum happened, a reader can still approach the book knowing Batman is not going to be on heroin this week. That’s just too different. So Smith and other fanboys-turned-writers place the importance of continuity before the story, as they are complicit in the franchising of comics. Stories should have a beginning, middle and an end. Comic book characters must continue forever. Hence the importance of continuity.

Morrison thinks differently. He places story first. His characters can live or die, become twisted or outgrow their surroundings. Inspired by Smith’s indifference I bought Batman RIP in trade and read through it in one sitting. I didn’t find it overly strange, or difficult to read, as it has been accused of. The main focus of the story is that the idea of Batman is destroyed and all the advantages he enjoys ripped away. The Wayne family’s good name is tarnished. His home ruined. Alfred beaten and kidnapped. Dick Grayson locked up in Arkham and subjected to a lobotomy. Robin on the run. Finally, the woman he loves takes a look around the Batcave, turns to Bruce and asks him a simple question – why are you doing this? These are the actions of a disturbed mind, hanging on to past trauma like a talisman.

That moment crystallises so much about Batman for me and also neatly sums up the mentality of fanboys. Perhaps it is the most objectionable scene within the story for long-time fans (leaving aside the ‘addicted to heroin’ stuff). For so much of RIP is about addressing every aspect of Batman’s history simultaneously, even to the inclusion of the forgotten ‘Bat-mite’ (here a projection of Bruce’s reason and imagination). The arc is a homage, but feels like root-canal as opposed to the usual attempts by 30-something men who should know better attempting to recreate whole storylines from their childhoods today.

Morrison has gone a different route entirely. Destroy the Bat and show how he can survive. How does the man live with what he does? He knows he is possibly psychotic, but chooses to do it anyway, because he has become necessary for the survival of Gotham itself, an entire cityscape gripped by insanity (with Arkham Asylum as its fulcrum).

The book is too abstract, more given to ideas than plot you can get your teeth into. I forgive Morrison this, as with Final Crisis, because the ideas are so crystalline pure to me. He’s a mad Scot, but he gets what makes a story. Take an idea and exhibit it, showing off every possible facet shining and bright.

Grant Morrison explains comic book franchising

The sermon on Geek Mountain

During the week Kevin Smith appeared on a panel with Jeannette Winterson (Oranges are not the Only Fruit) and Natlie Hynes, chaired by Kirsty Wark on BBC’s Newsnight. The episode also featured an interview with Mark Millar on ‘comics’, although this mainly served to promote his own book Kick-Ass, the subject of discussion for the panel and a soon to be released film.

The episode revolved around the statement repeated by Wark, and proclaimed by Millar, that the ‘geek has inherited the earth’. Kevin Smith even appeared in a bathrobe as homage to Douglas Adams. Here, he said, was proof positive of the geek reigning supreme – a fat, sweaty man on a panel discussion show wearing a robe.

Jeannette Winterson was having none of it though and argued that comics as a whole are misogynistic. Whereas her fellow panellists were more forgiving (Natalie Hynes compared season two of Buffy to the Aeneid; Kevin Smith’s stoutest rebuttal was ‘its comics :shrug:’), it was clear that two seperate discussions were playing out here. For all the talk of the mainstreaming of geek culture, here was a prize-winning author pointing out the uncomfortable fact that comics often leave a bad taste in the mouth. Yes team comics are quick to point out that there are ‘empowering’ books like Birds of Prey (cancelled), or strong heroines like Tulip from Preacher (finished nine years ago), and Winterson has obviously never read Alias, or Bone, or the work of the Hernandez clan.

She still has a point*. What’s more she represents something of an actual vanguard of culture, in that she is using reasoned argument, whereas ‘it’s comics!’ or ’she’s kick-ass’, smack of inarticulate message board postings. For too long geek culture has subsisted under the radar and criticism of its outpourings is more likely to be met with defensive, angry reactions.

Are comics mysogynistic? A lot of them are. Has the geek inherited the earth? No, he or she is just another ready source of revenue for studios and companies hawking franchises.

Oh and Grant Morrison said the geek has inherited the earth years ago Mark, stop being such an echo.

* Has anyone pointed out to Ms Winterson that her own novel featured in a parody by the Spaced team? I doubt it.