The Joy of Re-Reading Old Comics

My collection of toy cars grew by yet another car yesterday: a 1965 Shelby Cobra, part of the "For Sale" line of cars which basically consists of die cast cars designed to look like cars you would find in a used car lot, replete with uneven splotches of primer and chalk on the windows advertising what good shape the car is in. It's very nice. Like most of my cars, however (with the exception of the boxed ones, which I can pop out of and return to their boxes), it is staying in its clamshell case in which I bought it, where I can admire it and nothing more. Until I'm rich enough to build a glass or acrylic case to hold all these things and protect them from the elements, it is in their clamshells that they will stay. As much as I enjoy admiring them, I have to admit there isn't much more than that.

Which is why, even four months into this hobby (which has currently slowed down considerably), I can still say with certainty that comic books still trump diecast cars for one important reason: you can read them and re-read them, unless you're one of those sickos who buys multiple copies and has them "graded" for the sole purpose of hawking them on eBay. I'm proud to say that, as much money as I made off my comics online, at least I read them first.

My collection, much leaner now than it was two months ago, has a few truly great reads, some of them in single or two-issue stories, but for the most part in terms of four to six-issue storylines.

It's gratifying to revisit old series which I would take months to collect and complete and just read them all again in one sitting. The beauty of being a Marvel collector is that most of their latter-day stories were designed for such readings, and so for the most part they hold up so well that whatever delay may have been incurred in waiting for all four, five, six or seven issues of a miniseries or storyarc is suddenly forgotten.

There are some really good examples of such series that come to mind.

One of my favorites is Mark Millar's 12-issue run on Spider-Man, which still holds up well three or four reads later. Although this story has been accused of ripping off the format of Batman: Hush, its narrative architecture holds up a lot better than Jeph Loeb's flimsy excuses to have Jim Lee draw Batman's entire rogues gallery. Millar's opus is one big, 12-issue arc divided up among three smaller arcs, and they're all really fun reads. Artists Terry and Rachel Dodson and guest artist Frank Cho make it a real visual treat as well, though not necessarily on par with Lee's amazing illustrations.

Another series I really loved to revisit was J. Michael Straczynski's inaugural arc on Amazing Spider-Man, entitled "Coming Home." It's a pretty back-to-basics Spider-Man story with a couple of twists and from the outset JMS makes it pretty clear he has his own direction planned for the character. Artist John Romita Jr. absolutely shines, especially during the balls-to-the-wall action sequences.

Another series that Romita Jr. did really well recently was The Eternals. On an initial reading of the last couple of issues, which I didn't pick up right away because I was busy buying diecast cars, I found the series to be anticlimactic. Though upon re-reading them I still get that vibe, I have to admit now that there was some definitive progression in the story. After all the hype, though, I have to say that the real star of this miniseries was JR Jr., much more than its heralded writer Neil Gaiman.

Of course, not all series hold up to re-reading, no matter how deliberately Marvel plans its arcs, and in one case lateness really did hurt the overall quality of the story. The Spider-Man/Black Cat six-issue miniseries which officially took Kevin Smith about three and a half years to finish is one such example. Three tightly plotted and scripted, rather gripping issues came out in 2002, with an extremely formidable new villain and a hell of a cliffhanger that had the readers wondering if the Black Cat was going to get raped. Three years later, the remaining three issues of the series came out, and the plot just took a completely wrong turn. Even after reading it again over again I found that the whole thing just stank something terrible. It was as though Smith completely lost a handle on the story and just decided to churn out whatever came to mind. Not even Terry Dodson could save this book.

Lateness, however does not hurt a storyarc if it's already been carefully mapped out, and if the only thing that causes the delay is the art.

A surprisingly good example of this would be Joe Quesada's Daredevil: Father miniseries which, like Smith's Spider-Man miniseries, took over two years to finish. Quesada's lateness is much easier to forgive than Smith's considering that Joe doubled as the writer and the artist of the series, on top of that whole Editor-in-Chief of Marvel Comics business. At first I thought the ending had been re-tooled towards the end as well, but when I re-read the series, and I've done so two or three times, I actually realized how very tightly, yet intricately everything was woven together. I'm generally not a fan of artist-writers, but Quesada really hit it out of the park with this one. Of course, it helps that these six issues showcase some really terrific art, with the latter chapters featuring, in my opinion, some of the best art of Quesada's career.

My favorite example of a series whose quality is unaffected by lateness, however, is, yes, I'll say it: Civil War. Yes, there were mischaracterizations. Yes, it was flawed storytelling, which is a little disappointing considering Millar's talent, but from the first page of issue #1 to the last page of issue #7 this series was just totally riveting. It really and truly had a what-the-hell-is-going-to-happen-next vibe --(even when it was predictable!)-- and this ability to generate anticipation for the next installment is one of the best things that a serialized form of storytelling can have going for it, other shortcomings notwithstanding. It didn't hurt that it had some of the best art produced by any Marvel artist, or any artist in GENERAL, for that matter, in the last two decades or so. As good as Millar's writing is, Civil War would simply not have achieved what it did in terms of graphic storytelling without Steve McNiven's steady, if not necessarily quick pencil. He was definitely worth the wait.

Right now there's nothing out that I'd really care to buy (and the Dark Tower comic adaptation is a tad rich for my blood at this point), but I know there's stuff in the pipleline, like JMS and Quesada's four-issue team-up for the former's last storyarc on Spider-Man. As I understand it, much if not most of it's in the can, so I won't have to worry too much about lateness. Well, whether it's on time or late I look forward to buying it, reading it, and re-reading it.

So frankly, even after I'm swimming in money and all my cars are sitting in polished glass cases for admiring eyes to see, I will still love reading my old comics again. Hell, maybe even after I've made a mint off my cars on eBay I'll still be re-reading these things. They're just so much fun.