Still, the new Batman film looks like it’s even more unpleasant, more full of itself.  If this is what passes for “great” superhero films, I guess you can count me out.  I’d much rather watch Green Lantern fight giant yellow fear monsters or Captain America punch Nazis than have to sit through a movie that is this determined to be mature and intelligent.

In a recent episode of The Office, a character classified the music group The Black Eyed Peas as “Pop for people who don’t like pop, Rap for people who don’t like rap, Rock for people who don’t like rock.”  While I kind of see where he’s coming from, I’m not going to bash the Peas.  They clearly have appeal, even if I don’t really get it.  Not that I dislike them.  Just put me as resolutely neutral.

But it does have me wondering about the evolution of genre and media.  I’ve long felt that the comic book superhero genre has run into this problem.  It seems like most writers and fans would rather read stories about talking, brutality, and gray-and-gray morality than about good guys punching out evil.  I wrote an article for SF Signal a while back suggesting that comics have trouble maintaining their audience because they don’t have enough punching and alien invasions and would much rather devote themselves to obscure continuity nods and some strange integration of realism in universes populated by wizards and flying robots.

Honestly, I’m not so sure I’m right about that.

If The Dark Knight Rises scores as much popularity and commercial success as its predecessor, it’ll just be one more giant step toward superhero movies that take all the fun out of superheroics.  And I believe it’s very possible this will be the future.  Comic book superheroes are relentlessly boring and steadfastly unpleasant at this point.  So why shouldn’t movies eventually follow?

In a way, it could be the very same pattern established with comic book superhero history.  Stories like Watchmen and The Dark Knight Returns came along and redefined expectations for a generation now in charge of writing superheroes.  And what we’ve gotten is more of the same, an often slavish devotion to recreating and imitating these groundbreaking stories to the point that if a comic book superhero doesn’t have swearing, hints of sexual violence, and some gore, it’s considered a “kid’s comic” by most of the audience.

If The Dark Knight Rises has the same affect on up and coming filmmakers, we can look forward to more of this in the future.  And while I’m in the minority in thinking of The Dark Knight as one of the worst superhero films ever, I still can’t imagine a world where people will flock to see film after film that makes superheroics depressing.

But aren’t we kind of already there?  How many shows on television are about bad people?  How much of our entertainment is devoted to the most unpleasant aspects of who we are?  From Breaking Bad to The Walking Dead to Mad Men, we seem more and more like a culture more-than-happy to wallow in the darkness of our natures.  And put me down as someone who doesn’t like it.

This is not to suggest that these shows are bad.  Taste is such a subjective thing.  Still, whenever I bemoan not having a show I can watch on television, someone will inevitably bring up something like these as examples of how intelligent and deep television can be.  I don’t mean to imply that these shows aren’t intelligent and deep.  I’m just wondering why this is more and more our ONLY version of intelligent entertainment.

It’s why my favorite superhero flick remains The Incredibles.  It’s a beautiful and thoughtful film about what it means to be a hero and a villain, about family, about our own desires versus the desires of the society, and of everything that makes being human both transcendent and difficult.  It’s also has two amazing giant robot fights.  It’s a movie that is about people AND about superheroes, not just about people with some superhero stuff tacked on as a concession.

Part of me assumes that this is merely a phase that we’re going through.  Culture follows trends, and trends rarely stick around forever.  I can weather boring Batman and unlikable protagonists for a few years.  But another part of me worries that there’s no going back.  Once you cross that bridge where a man in a batsuit who fights crime is no longer fun, you have passed the event horizon and there’s only one way to go.  Darker and grimmer and grimdarker until eventually, all our stories are about drug dealers who eat babies and feel miserable while doing it.

There’s a way to things, a certain natural order that seems to pop up.  For example, men’s names can become women’s names over time.  Eventually, those names stop being men’s names all together.  Men’s names can become women’s names, but it is NEVER the reverse.

I worry that the FUN to BORING path is similarly irreversible.  Once the Joker shot Barbara Gordon, he signaled the beginning of a brave new world, one we can never escape.  My only solace is that as long as Batman: The Brave and the Bold exists, there’s always hope for tomorrow.

What?  Canceled?

Oh, well, never mind then.  Game over.

Congratulations, boring Batman.  You win.

Fighting the good fight, Writing the good write,

Lee

It even gave me some ideas for some good blog posts.

Today, I’d like to write about a conversation I had with a fan.  He approached me after a panel and remarked that he had seen me on a panel from last year on the subject of copyright.  He was struck immediately by my lax view of copyright, and how I didn’t think it should last nearly as long as it does.  It intrigued him enough that he went ahead and bought one of my books.

First, that’s always wonderful to hear.  While I do enjoy sci fi cons, I don’t do them for my own pleasure.  I do them for the exposure, to get people excited about my books.  If I can get one or two people to take a chance on something I’ve written, then I consider things a rousing success.  One step at a time, right?

Even better, he read the first book, liked it, and bought another.  Don’t remember which books he mentioned, but he said that he enjoyed the second book too and had recently bought a third.  All great news.

Then he mentioned that he could see why I didn’t fear shorter copyright laws because I was constantly creating new characters and settings, so while another writer might have a vested interest in preserving their primary creation / universe, I was clearly a guy who’d just go make another.

For the record, I don’t think of myself as more creative as other writers.  Well, some other writers, sure.  But there are plenty of creative writers who are primarily series writers.  And it’s worked out well for them.  It’s just not my thing.

While it’s not my intention to free myself from copyright concerns by writing varied characters and universes, perhaps that’s an accidental byproduct.  Whereas many writers are looking for that golden goose to pin their career on, I’m more interested in writing fun, cool, varied fantasy stories.  While it has probably stifled my career’s growth, bucking a common trend, it’s also helped me in other ways.  And maybe one of those ways is giving me the confidence to believe that I don’t need to hold onto a story forever.

I like coypright.  I certainly like getting paid to create stories, but I do think there’s a danger of creative stagnation that comes with current copyright law.  It’s most visible in comic book superheroes, where so many older characters refuse to step aside for the next generation.  (Although this is trademark law, which is slightly different, but close enough for our purposes.)  Would Marvel continue to publish Spider-Man comics if the character was in the public domain?  Maybe.  But they’d also have the impetus to create new characters that could be more reliable revenue producers.

It’s true.  If I only had one money-making character / universe at my disposal, I’d want to hold onto as long as possible.  But I don’t.  Or at least, I choose not to.  Maybe it’s because I’m dumb.  Given current copyright law, one really strong, popular idea is worth a dozen less popular ones.  As I’ve said before, if I was writing my ninth Gil’s All Fright Diner novel, I’d probably be in a stronger place as a novelologist.  I don’t begrudge any writer who takes that path.

I just decided not to.  Rather, I just ended up going another way, mostly by habit and accident.

There are bonuses.  My fans tend to enjoy that I don’t write sequels.  They almost always have a favorite character / setting they’d love to read more of, but they also appreciate the variety.  And at least one guy respects me for it, which is always nice.

And then there’s Hollywood.  I’ve been fortunate enough to dip my toe in that pool, and it’s been a lucrative, fun experience.  I’ve earned a small reputation as a creative guy who can come up with cool ideas.  I’ve had several books optioned for films.  I can’t say whether they’ll go anywhere, but there still out there, still working for me, earning me a check now and then.  And getting me work that I never imagined I’d do.  Yes, I’ve written quite a few treatments and worked as a consultant.  I don’t think that would’ve happened if I’d just written a long-standing series, though if I were lucky enough to have a popular long-standing series, I’d have no reason to complain.

But I don’t have one of those.

What I do have is eight (make that nine, next year) fantasy / sci fi novels that have done respectably well, and a reputation as a creative guy who isn’t afraid to experiment a little bit.  That’s just fine by me.

Though selling more books is always something to strive for.

Fighting the good fight, Writing the good write,

Lee

The only reason I dislike being labeled a “funny” writer is because it seems to come with that sort of baggage.  But really, I try to have my humor come from real places and genuine characters.  I don’t write to be silly.  Even if a story is about monster gods and vampires in overalls, I’m not just out to be goofy for goofy’s sake.  And if my hero happens to be a robot who talks like a P.I. or a raccoon god in a Hawaiian shirt, it doesn’t necessarily mean that weirdness is my goal.

Most of my stories are set in strange universes and feature odd characters.  I tend to have a healthy dose of humor even as those universes explode or those characters struggle with their day-to-day lives.  Often, it’s the juxtaposition of the ordinary and the fantastic that form the humor in my stories, but just as often, I think it’s the universal elements of existence that form the funny bits.

In Gil’s All Fright Diner, Duke and Earl’s exchange witty banter.  But it’s built on an understanding of just how good of friends they are.  Most scenes between Earl and Cathy have humor on the foundation of Earl’s awkwardness, his gradual realization of what Cathy represents to him, and how his own insecurities and clumsiness make things more difficult than they have to be.  And Tammy and Chad have a real relationship, even if it isn’t a healthy one.

In In the Company of Ogres, Never Dead Ned’s weary attitude and loss of motivation is something we all experience now and then.  He’s an immortal who doesn’t see the point in any of it.  And if you can’t relate to that, well, count yourself lucky.

A Nameless Witch is about family and friends, love and loss.

The Automatic Detective is about the struggle against our inner nature and learning to find our place in the world.

Too Many Curses is about the hidden strength in those we so often consider weak and powerless.  And about how one person can bring people together without even realizing it.

Monster is about our inability to learn from our mistakes and to keep failing because of that.  It’s about notions of destiny and control with Monster and Judy representing two ends of a very different spectrum.

Divine Misfortune is about our desire to have the universe notice us without ever really pausing to ask what that means. And it’s also about responsibility and growing up, even when you don’t technically have to.

Chasing the Moon is about living in an incomprehensible universe where nothing is certain and everything could be important or pointless.  And you’re unlikely to ever know which is which.

Underneath all the humor and weirdness, I have to believe all these stories have something important to say.  Because these stories matter to me.  That’s why I wrote them.  I care about the characters, their struggles, their tragedies and triumphs.  Even in the most absurd situation, I have to think they’re worth investing in.  Otherwise, what’s the point?  If it’s just about a cheap laugh, I’d feel like I’m wasting my time with them.

I don’t expect everyone to see anything deeper in what I write, but I’ll admit it bothers me when my books get dismissed as empty calories, as the literary equivalent of a Three Stooges short or a Tom & Jerry cartoon.  Heck, I love Tom & Jerry, but I’d like to think I have more emotional resonance than that.  Though I can’t force anyone to see that.  I can only write the stories and hope someone does.  And if they should find them just silly, I can’t complain about that either.  Because if someone likes the books, it shouldn’t matter.  My royalty checks cash the same either way.

But if you should happen to see me on the street or at a convention or wherever, I wouldn’t complain if you said something like “Hey, I really liked Nessy the kobold.  She’s a great character” alongside your “Your books are so funny” compliment.  Not that I’ll hold it against you if you don’t.  But it’d be nice to hear once in a while just the same.

Oh, and Emperor Mollusk Versus the Sinister Brain?  That’s about living with the our mistakes and ourselves.  Also, giant awesome robot fights.

Fighting the good fight, Writing the good write,

Lee

You might disagree.  You’re free to.  Whether or not Legacy is a good film is entirely up in the air.  My opinion is valid because it comes from my perspective.  You may not have my perspective.  In fact, you probably don’t.  Even if you dislike the film, you’ll probably dislike it for different reasons.  And that’s okay.  That’s fine.  I am not calling anyone a bad person for liking Legacy.  I don’t think someone is dumb for enjoying the movie.  And, though I find the film to be little more than an empty music video without characterization or plot, I am not right.  Or wrong.  Because it is in this particular subject impossible to be right or wrong.

As a novelologist, I learned long ago that people will have opinions.  I’ve accepted that many people will not like my books.  And those reasons run the full spectrum.  If you read negative reviews of my books on Amazon, you’ll see that it’s entirely possible for two people to hate a book for exactly the opposite reasons.  There are reviews that say “This book is insubstantial and silly” right beside reviews that say “this book is too serious and not nearly funny enough.”  From a logical perspective, these two reviews can’t both be right.  In a logical universe, a book can’t be guilty of being too funny and not funny enough.  But we are all trapped in our own small universes, and you can give the same book to different people and end up with wildly different opinions and interpretations.

Just about every holy book ever written down is proof of this.

It always seems to come down to emotional resonance, a concept I find myself brushing up against more and more.  If something strikes a chord, triggers an emotional response, then it works.  There are those who found Legacy to be a visual treat.  Yet I found its universe to be flat and dull.  There are those who only see Godzilla as a guy in a rubber suit.  Yet I see him as the embodiment of pure destructive power.  Trying to bridge those kinds of gaps isn’t easy.  It’s often downright impossible.

We don’t share emotions.  We don’t create them in others.  Only they can do that.  No matter how often or loudly I extoll the virtues of giant fightin’ robots, if someone doesn’t like them, they probably never will.  If I haven’t grown fond of Captain Jack Sparrow at this point, I doubt On Stranger Tides will be the film that does the job.  And if someone finds Tron Legacy a film with watching more than once, they aren’t wrong.  I’m just not going to watch it again myself.

It’s easy to be insulted when people disagree with us on our favorite things.  Probably because it can seem like a dismissal of the very emotions that give those things value.  It might not be intentional, but there’s a certain subtext.

Writing about something like this, I realize just how difficult it is for human beings to communicate on the most important and primal level.  There’s a gulf between us, and we’re constantly trying to reach across that gap.  It’s probably why we love to introduce our friends to things we love.  The only way I can really share my excitement with you is by giving you the same thing that triggered mine, and hope it works for you too.  And if it does, then suddenly, we’re magically connected in a way that talking just can’t accomplish.

Recently, I was speaking to someone who thought Edgar Rice Burrough’s Mars books were among “the worst books ever written.”  Considering how much I love those books, I immediately sensed a divide that we could probably never cross.  I knew it was true when that person described one of my favorite scenes in the series (where John Carter kills a giant green Martian with one punch).  Only instead of being excited by it, she found it absurd and comical.  I thought, “I just don’t know how to relate to you.  Telling me John Carter of Mars is bad is like telling me oxygen is bad.”

She wasn’t wrong in her opinion.  She was just coming from a very different place.  And while we could have had some common ground elsewhere, I also had to wonder if that was really possible.  The longer this person and I talked, the more I felt that distance grow between us.  By the end, it just seemed like we were coming from entirely different universes.  That’s not a judgment on which universe is better.  I like mine.  She likes hers.  And there was enough respect between the two of us to live and let live.

My goal as a novelologist is to create stories that stir emotions in others.  Maybe it’s as simple as trying to make them laugh.  Or maybe it’s trying to get someone to see how awesome a battle with a slime monster can be.  I tap into my own emotions and hope that we have enough in common, somewhere where emotions are spawned, to share an experience.  And when it works, it’s a beautiful thing.

More often, it never quite lands where I expect.  Even when people like what I write, they hardly ever like it for the reason I wrote it.  Maybe I’m not a good enough writer.  Or maybe I’m coming from another place.  I can’t hazard to guess.

It’s like people who play delicate little blood elves in World of Warcraft when they could be playing hulking taurens.  I might not be able to relate, but at the end of the day, we can all kill Alliance scum together.  And that’s good enough for me.

Fighting the good fight, Writing the good write,

Lee

Here’s a list of things I’d like to throw out there to the powers-that-be in the comic book publishing world.  It’s a list of challenges.  Does anyone care what this humble novelologist has to say about the comic book world?  Probably not.  But it’s something I had on my mind and just thought I’d throw it out there.  Consider it a comic book fan’s manifesto.  Or should I say former fan?  Either way, let’s get to it.

BRING BACK SOME GOOD GUYS:

Perhaps the most troubling element of modern comic books is the near complete lack of good guys.  Remember the days when Wolverine and the Punisher were the edgy heroes.  Now they’re positively family-friendly.  Marvel, in particular, is guilty of this sin.  They’ve systematically replaced nearly every hero with a “dark” equivalent.  And, yes, dark is even the word they’re using.

This is truth in advertising.  Most of the heroes of the Marvel Universe are real assholes at this point.  Not just reckless or bloodthirsty, but downright vicious and cruel.  Witness the new Dark Ms. Marvel pluck a complete stranger from his bed, talk to him for a few minutes, and than casually toss him away to his death with no regard.  (Worse is how often this sort of thing is played for humor in the new Marvel U.)

Remember when heroes had noble ideals?  Remember when they fought for the common good?  Remember when “flawed” heroes didn’t necessarily mean “psychotic?”

Yeah, me neither.

I’m not suggesting getting rid of these dark characters, but if you could happen to give me someone to root for once in a while…well that’d be a nice change of pace. That’s all I’m saying.

ENOUGH WITH THE DEATH

In general, I think death is a cheap gimmick, a tool in a writer’s kit that should be used sparingly in order to keep it interesting.  Especially in ongoing universes.  Ideally, death should be used when it has the most impact, when it really counts for something.

And that’s a problem in the world of comic books because NOBODY stays dead.  I don’t care how noble the death, how trivial the character, EVERYBODY comes back to life eventually.  It’s just the way it is, and every comic book fan knows it.  Heck, at this stage every comic book character knows it.

So death in comic books means nothing.  Absolutely nothing.  Barbara Gordon, the original Batgirl ,was shot in the spine.  She still can’t walk.  But if she’d been shot in the face, rushed to the hospital, and pronounced dead, she’d probably be up and around by now, back to fighting crime.  Yes, in the world of comics getting maimed is more permanent and disabling than dying.  And I can accept that.

Just don’t expect me to get worked up about it anymore.  When Marvel killed Captain America recently, nobody in the comic reading world really gave a crap.  And why should they?  They all knew he would come back, and probably sooner than later.  So as much as they love putting those covers with the blood splattered shield or the new “dark” Cap, nobody out here gives a damn.

The same thing goes for Batman, DC.  We all know Bruce Wayne isn’t dead.  So stop pretending like The Battle for the Cowl will have any long term consequences.

And speaking of consequences…

STOP PRETENDING THE STATUS QUO WILL CHANGE

We know it’s not.  We know that Peter Parker will always be Spider-Man and that Spider-Man will never be loved by the general public.  (Despite the fact that there’s no real reason for him to be a pariah in a world full of superhuman heroes)  We all know that if Superman loses his powers, he will get them back.  And no matter how many times the X-Men save the universe, they will always be “misunderstood”.

The writers should try to remember this too.  Perhaps it might stop them from writing stories that “change everything!”  Spider-Man’s mask comes off.  Whoop-dee-doo.  (Although it’s sadly pathetic to resort to having the Devil magic everything back to normal as the only way to fix the problem.)  So instead of trying to shock us with stories we all know will never stick, how about just thrill us with stories that are worth reading because they’re well written?  Just a suggestion.

Now to a few more specific suggestions:

SUPERMAN:

Listen, DC, we all know that Superman came from another world that blowed up real good.  That’s his backstory.  It’s simple.  It works.  It doesn’t need to be more than that.   Superman may have been born on Krypton, but he looks like a human, he’s lived 95 percent of his life as a human, and his morality is human.  So stop digging into Krypton as a way to “humanize” the man of steel.  Just let Krypton die.

Also, there’s absolutely no need to explore Superman’s early years anymore.  None.  It seems like every few years someone comes along and writes the “definitive” Superman origin.  But how often do we need to hear this?  More importantly, what’s new to be done with it?  Nothing, that’s what.

No more super-knockoffs.  Superman is special because he’s unique.  It’s not that he’s a powerhouse.  The DC universe is full of powerhouses.  What makes Superman fun (what makes ALL superheroes fun) is that they’re each their own distinctive gimmick.  This is why there’s not 10,000 Green Arrows running around, even though you would imagine there are probably lots of guys who can shoot a bow and arrow.  This is why Iron Man doesn’t just make 1,000 armored suits and create his own private army of superheroes.

So Supergirl?  Get rid of her.  Drop her in Kryptonite acid.  Have her eat some bad tuna.  I don’t know.  Figure it out.  She’s not a bad character.  She’s more of a bad idea, and she’s always been a bad idea.  ALWAYS.  Because Supergirl’s mere existence makes Superman seem commonplace.

Yeah, even Krypto the superdog needs to go.  And I hate saying that because I LOVE Krypto.

GREEN LANTERN

Get rid of all the multi-colored rainbow of Lanterns you’ve created.  I know this will never happen, of course.  But I can dream.   Because as cool as some people might think the idea is, I have to say it destroys any interesting aspect of the character for me.

We’ve always known that there was more than one Green Lantern in the universe.  That never bothered me.  But I always imagined the Lanterns as a Texas Rangers in Space! kind of thing.  Always outnumbered, always with their back to the wall, having incredible powers but having to deal with a lot of crap at the same time.

Instead, we’ve discovered the the Lanterns are more of an intergalactic police force with thousands of members.  And suddenly, the Conservation of Ninjitsu kicks in.  There’s only so much badass to go around, and with that many power rings floating around the universe, it gets spread pretty thin.  More often than not, when we meet a new Green Lantern, it’s just to watch them get their ass kicked.  So get rid of most of these guys.  (You don’t have to kill ‘em.  Just stop shoving in our face so much.)

With the addition of the Rainbow Coalition of Lanterns, the effect is even more pronounced.  At times, it seems like everyone is a Lantern.  Maybe they give the rings out in Cracker Jack boxes.  I dunno.  Don’t care.  Just get rid of ‘em.

Remember when Sinestro was the ultimate badass?  It was because there was ONE of him.  And the Green Lanterns knew that he was someone you didn’t want to screw with.  But now that there’s hundreds of Yellow Lanterns, Sinestro is just another face in the crowd, and that’s a real shame.

BATMAN

Don’t get me started.

BOOSTER GOLD

Ditch the “time guardian” angle.  It stinks, and here’s why it stinks.

Booster cannot change anything, and we know it.  His enemies cannot change anything, and we know it.  You can come up with all manner of techno-babble, time-travel nonsense to explain it, but bottom line: you aren’t going to retcon comic book history in a Booster Gold comic.  Ain’t gonna happen.

So everything in a Booster Gold “time guardian” story is a foregone conclusion.  Will Booster be able to save Barbara Gordon from the Joker?  No, of course not.  Will evil time travelers erase Superman from the timestream?  I’m just gonna take a wild guess and say no on this one too.

You’ve neutered both your hero and your villain in one fell swoop.  And that’s why it stinks.

SUPERGIRL

Did I mention you should kill Supergirl?  Because I just wanted to mention it again.

Conversely, you could try making the character more interesting with better stories, but let’s be honest…that isn’t going to happen.  So just kill her and put her and us out of our misery.

And lest you think Marvel escaped my wrath:

GRAVITY

Do something with this guy.  Something good.  Something fun.  He’s a good kid.  He deserves to find an audience.

SLAPSTICK

Nobody cares about Slapstick.  Nobody but me.  So if you could make a Slapstick comic book (even a mini-series) I promise to buy it.  Really, I do.

MARVEL ZOMBIES

Hey, remember that first mini-series?  That one that was surprisingly good even if it should’ve been a terrible idea.  That was great.  Better than it had any right to be.

The rest…not so much.

I know you’re making money off of this, so I don’t expect you to listen to me.  And I don’t even know if I’m right.  All I know is that this is an idea that burned itself out almost immediately, and while it might be fun to do zombie-themed parodies of all your classic covers, you don’t have to bother wrapping it around a bad comic.  Just make the covers and sell those.  People will buy ‘em, I’m sure.

SENTRY

Without a doubt, this is the worst character in the Marvel U.  He needs to go.

WOLVERINE

Remember that stuff I said about Superman and Green Lantern?  All that stuff applies here.  Wolverina started out as a joke in What the…?, the Marvel humor comic.  Now she’s a real character.  “Dark” Wolverine is Wolverine’s “dark” son!  There are simply too many characters running around with claws and healing factors, and the longer this goes on, the less we’re going to care.

NORMAN OSBORNE

He’s not Lex Luthor, no matter how much you try and convince us he is.  So every time he’s sitting in a pow wow with Loki or Dr. Doom, you should just have one of them disintegrate him and be done with it.

STOP BEING THE PUNCHLINE TO YOUR OWN JOKES

Wolverina was a joke.  She was a joke you invented, Marvel.  And then you went and tried to make her serious.

“Dark Reign”?  Really?  This is the title you chose for your big crossover event because “dark” comics aren’t a cliche or anything.  Maybe that crap played better in the 90′s, but now, it just seems silly.  Grrr.  We’re dark!

Okay, I guess that’s it.  I could go on, but if you’ve made it this far, you probably are just hoping I’ll shut up.

So that’s that.  A list of requests that nobody important will read, and will never happen.  But I put it out there.  I did my part.  The rest is subject to the whims of the universe.

Fighting the good fight, Writing the good write,

Lee

Oh, I believe comic books (and superheroes) will be around for a while.  And, yes, I know that comic books aren’t strictly about superheroes, but let’s be honest, it’s what they’re most famous for at this point and it’s probably what they’ll stay famous for.  Road to Perdition and A History of Violence may have both been based on graphic novels, but neither seemed enthusiastic to advertise that.  No, to the general public, comic books are about superheroes, and there’s just no way around that.

Ironically, I’m not even sure how many comic book writers right now actually care about the superhero genre in the first place.  Most comic books I pick up are talky, dull affairs about people who just happen to have super powers.  It’s almost as if most the writers who grew up reading comics loved the medium but don’t really like superheroes.  But if you want to make a living writing comics, odds are good that you’ll be writing something with superheroes in it.

But I’m getting off topic.  (Funny how often that happens when I write about this stuff, isn’t it?)

The problem with comic books, the inescapable dilemma they’re facing, is how the hell do you write a comic book that appeals to fans and non-fans at the same time?  As of yet, nobody has really figured out how to do it.

I make no bones about it that fannish devotion to previous continuity in comic book universes is killing the comic book.  Most non-fans would have a hell of a time picking up any random comic book, even one featuring mainstream heroes, and knowing what the hell is going on.  And that’s just too bad because while the fans may love spending hours researching the backstory of 12,ooo characters to make sense of a story that takes two or three years (and several hundred issues and several hundred dollars) to unfold, your average reader probably isn’t willing to invest the same amount of effort.  And who can really blame them?

Yet the fans are the only thing keeping comic books afloat right now.  The die hards who read anything with Wolverine or Spider-Man in it are where most of the money is.  But these popular characters also come with a lot of baggage that most fans want to see exploited.  A straight-forward story where Batman tracks down some bankrobbers is just not going to appeal to them.  No, they want to see Night Wing and Robin and the Joker.  And they want Night Wing and Robin to have a clever exchange of dialogue that refers to something that happened “a few years ago” in comic book time, but is probably more like 15 years ago in reality time.  Leave those out, and they’re disatisfied.  And they’ll let you know.

The problem is that these devoted fans are strangling the life out of the very thing they love.

And yet, non-fans are not that interested in comic books because comic books are not a mainstream thing.  Comic book heroes may be mainstream, but comic books themselves are still a specialty product sold in special outlet stores that, while not always hostile to non-fans, are rarely very welcoming.  I still visit my comic book store and it’s not unusual to get a feeling like you’re an outsider.  Not because anyone treats you as such, but just because everyone seems to know so much more than you.  It’s like being a rocket scientist in a room full of anthropologists.  You may know you’re smart, but you also can’t help but feel like you’re missing out on a lot of the subtleties of the conversation.

DC’S BLACKEST NIGHT is the latest fan service event about an army of evil undead black lanterns who rise from their graves to do something evil.  I’m not going to lie to you.  It’s pretty terrible.  Fans will love it, of course.  Because the thing is filled with all these fan moments.  Also, I’m not so sure that many fans of comic books actually like superheroes either.  They’d much rather read a zombie book with superheroes pasted into it.  But that’s just me being grouchy, so ignore that.

But let’s take Blackest Night for what it is.  It’s a comic devoted to pleasing fans, and it probably does a good job of that.  While non-fans will find themselves confused by the long-winded conversation between Green Lantern and Flash about their complicated pasts and then utterly unimpressed by the appearance of Zombie Martian Manhunter, fans will eat this up.  When Zombie Elongated Man and Zombie Sue Dibney confront Hawkman and Hawkgirl, most fans’ eyes will glimmer with sinister glee and most non-fans will wonder who the hell any of these characters are.

Blackest Night #1 is all set up.  If you’re already invested in these characters and this universe, it’s not bad.  But what if you’re not?  This is the problem.  This is the gnawing catch-22 that is slowly eating comic books alive.

How the hell do you make a comic book that is full of in-references and beloved fan characters (both famous and obscure) that doesn’t alienate non-fans?  Or, vice versa, how do you write a comic book full of action, adventure, and accessibility that will keep hardcore fans interested?

Though I’ve always considered myself a comic book fan, I have discovered that, in truth, I’m not.  Because even though I get many of the references in Blackest Night, even though I understand much of the backstory and am familiar with the characters, I couldn’t give a damn.  I just don’t care.  I suppose I’m trapped in some strange twilight realm between fan and non-fan.  I know enough to follow what’s going on, but I’m not invested enough to give a crap.  I know that having Zombie Martian Manhunter coming after Green Lantern and Flash is supposed to be a crowning moment of cool.  But instead, it just comes off as fan service, as pandering.  Like World War Hulk (“Hey, wouldn’t it be cool if the Hulk beat up everybody!”) or Civil War (“Hey, wouldn’t it be neat if half the superheroes started fighting with the other half!”) I find the entire thing laughably ill-conceived.  But, hey, I’m not a fan.  I’m just some guy who likes comics.  And it turns out there’s a world of difference between the two.

Another interesting experiment from DC is WEDNESDAY COMICS.  This throwback to Sunday comic weeklies is a nifty idea.  And I’ll admit that so far it’s been endearing and fun.  But who is going to buy this?  Who is going to spend $4 to buy a weekly comic featuring continuing stories printed in a page-a-week format?  The art is great.  The nostalgia is nice.  The stories are developing quite nicely.  But is a non-fan going to pick this up?

And even if they did, what would they find?  Comics that are decidedly retro.  Characters that are in stories nothing like you’d actually read if you picked up a comic.  The Green Lantern strip doesn’t have a single zombie, swear word, or long, drawn out exchange of history referencing dialogue.  The Batman strip is a noirish crime thriller with nary a supporting cast member shown (outside of Commissioner Gordon so far).  The Kamandi strip is just awesome, a great tribute to Prince Valiant, but who is going to become a Kamandi fan from reading it?  And, even if they did, where the hell are they going to find a Kamandi comic book on the shelves?

Nowhere.  That’s where.

Wednesday Comics is intentionally old school.  There’s no blood, no gore.  No attempts at edginess.  Even the Batman strip, the most brooding and dark of the offerings, is surprisingly low-key and subtle.  Maybe somebody will get tortured to death by a power drill at some point, but for now, all its violence is implied, not painted in graphic reds and blacks across the panels.

And I still can’t really figure out who it’s for.  I really like it, but, as stated previously, I am not a fan.  Comic book writers long ago gave up on casual readers.

MARVEL DIVAS is a new series that is an attempt to reach out to a female audience.  Despite having “Divas” in the title (The Mighty Robot King has placed that term in his To Be Reviled Index), it’s not a bad book.  But, again, it’s filled with in-references and fan service.  The cover features our four heroines decked out in sexy superhero attire, but the interior hardly shows them in costume at all.  So if Marvel Divas isn’t really a superhero book (and as far as I can tell it isn’t, anymore than Blackest Night is a superhero book) then why not just admit this and put the ladies in non-superhero attire on the cover?  It’s not as if any of these characters are recognizable icons.  I know Hellcat.  Heck, I even like Hellcat.  But what casual reader is going to walk by a comic book shop, spot Hellcat in the window, and say, “Hey, I want that comic because clearly, it’s a comic about four women (with incidental superpowers) who sit around and talk about dating, fashion, and cancer!”

Quote Will Ferrell:  “I feel like I’m taking crazy pills.”

So now I realize I’ve written a whole hell of a lot about a problem that is obvious to most comic book fans and completely irrelevant to everyone else.  And that just shows how big this problem is.  As much as I want to shake Marvel and DC and scream, “Stop with the gimmicks!  Just write a good, accessible story!” I also know that they’re doing the only thing they can think of.

Is it short-sighted?  I think so, but trying anything else is risky.  It’s hard to gamble when the long term gains may never come.

But, bringing this around to me, I have to say this is why I find myself reluctant to start a series.  Because this is the inevitable result.  Inevitably, you become a devoted servant of fan service and not storytelling.  Not to suggest that many series haven’t managed to do both at the same time, but it’s not easy.  And comic books lost that battle a long time ago.

Will they recover?  Hard to say.  I’d say no, but that’s just the cynic in me.  Plus, it’s pretty damned late, and I should’ve been in bed a while ago.  Why the hell do I start these blog entries just before bed time?

So I leave you with a long rant that observes a problem that many others before me have already observed, and I offer no solution.  Sorry to have wasted your time, gang.  Try not to hold it against me.

All I really know about comic books is that more stories should feature Blue Beetle and Squirrel Girl.  And if DC and Marvel ever feel like doing another inter-company crossover, I’d pay good money to write a Blue Beetle / Squirrel Girl one-shot.  That’s right!  I’d pay you, guys! 

Just putting that out there.

Fighting the good fight, Writing the good write,

Lee