With the
rise of digital comics and the ubiquity of comic collections, today really is a
golden age for comic readers. There is
very little we cannot find—online, at a store, or through our library—to read and
enjoy, from the early works of Jack Kirby and Will Eisner to the most recent
collections from Kate Beaton or Ed Brubaker & Sean Phillips or Colleen
Doran. There’s a plethora of comic
stories out there, and more are coming out every week.
But with
this wealth of comics, it can be tough to keep up with the newest books, even
if one tries to narrow it down to just a handful of titles from specific. Even with all the new books coming out, there
are still those standout series in your longboxes, or on your shelves, that
will call you back for a re-read and a reassessment. These are the comics that touched you
somehow—maybe it was your introduction to a particular artist or character, or
just a great concept that was extremely well executed. Often tinged with a strong dose of nostalgia,
they’re the books that still give you that tingle in the pit of your stomach
that takes you back to a time that feels more vibrant. Like visiting an old friend you haven’t seen
for a long time, these series make you feel warm and comfortable, and bring a
smile to your face every time. Here are
three of mine…
G.I. Joe (Larry Hama, et al., published
by Marvel Comics)—
This was the
first comic book I collected and will always be an important title because of
that. I started with issue 23 of the
series—“Cobra Commander Captured at last!”—and it was all engines ahead, after
that one. I collected up through #140
(featuring the Transformers, by that time) and backtracked to gather all the
previous issues, either through reprints or the digests available at my local
bookstore, and these comics rarely disappointed.
The battle
of good vs. evil and the cool costumes—and ninjas! Natch—were what initially
drew me in, but it was the writing that kept me hooked. Hama crafted some great characters, and their
interpersonal relationships, along with the political intrigue inherent in the concept
of Cobra and its battle against this covert and “superheroic” military unit,
was exciting and engaging. Though soap
operatic, to a great degree, there was something more complex and more adult at
work in Hama’s storytelling. Sure,
scenarios may have been outlandish and overblown, but it never felt like he was
writing down to his audience. There was
a definite line between good and evil, in the comic, but many of the characters’
personal morality skewed toward a hazier shade of gray, which infused the
stories with something missing in most of my other comics. And, most important for me, though each issue
contains the requisite exposition to bring newer readers up to speed, Hama was
able to deftly weave this into the dialogue in a manner that rarely felt forced
and, at the very least, was lyrical, which kept the exposition from stifling one’s
appreciation of the reading experience.
Finally, it
should be noted that there were a stellar number of artists who worked on this series. There was the legendary Herb Trimpe, Ron
Wagner and Rod Whigham (two of my favorites on the title), Marshall Rogers, Tony
Salmons, Mark Bright, Geof Isherwood, and even art from Hama himself, along
with memorable covers by the likes of Michael Golden and Mike Zeck. G.I. Joe has a great pedigree, and it’s
a comic that, today, still holds up and excites the kid in me, when I sit down
to read it.
Sandman (Neil Gaiman, et al., published
by DC/Vertigo comics)—
This was the
series for me, when it was originally published, and it is what helped
make Neil Gaiman one of my favorite writers.
The Sandman was unlike almost any other series I was reading, at
the time (I had yet to compile a full collection of Alan Moore’s Swamp Thing),
and it hit me at just the right age. I
was in high school when the first issue was published, and was entering my
senior year when I discovered the series, with issue #8, “The Sound of Her
Wings.” Gaiman’s concoction of horror
and magic, ancient myth and a literary sensibility, spoke right to me. And as the series progressed, the realization
that he was overlaying all of these various stories with a single narrative
that would see the main protagonist evolve, in as extreme a way as possible for
the embodiment of Dream, only added to my appreciation of this series. It’s a masterpiece, in my opinion, and one
that rewards subsequent readings with new insights.
Sandman
hit at a time when the comic book publishers were just beginning to look at
collected editions as a viable publishing avenue. When this became the expectation—that the
single issues would be collected into a lasting volume—something occurred with
the serialization of many comic books—writers (or the editors), would plan
storylines to be six issues long, allowing for a standard length collection that
could be priced appropriately and sit alongside all the other six-issue
collections on the shelves. Thankfully, Sandman
came before this—and I might argue that Gaiman would not have fallen into that
trap, but who can say?—and the storylines within the comic spread across
however many issues were needed to tell the story properly, whether it be five
issues or seven or thirteen. These were
often interspersed with a series of single-issue stories, vignettes that felt
like a nice respite between arcs but, in many cases, were later revealed as
integral pieces of the overall narrative.
Yeah, I love this comic.
And, again,
like Hama above, Gaiman was afforded the opportunity to work with a wonderful complement
of amazing artists, including Charles Vess, Colleen Doran, Mike Dringenberg,
Sam Kieth, Kelley Jones, Jill Thompson, Marc Hempel, and many others. These comics are not just wonderful stories,
but they are also a feast for the eyes.
Some of the most beautiful comic art can be found in these volumes,
especially the final one, “The Wake,” which includes art from Michael Zulli,
Jon J. Muth, and the aforementioned Vess.
And don’t forget the covers by the inimitable Dave McKean. Just, seriously, beautiful, wonderful,
amazing stuff. Seek it out if you haven’t
already.
Suicide Squad (John Ostrander,
Kim Yale, Luke McDonnell, et al., published by DC Comics)—
The mid-80s
is my “Golden Age” of comics. It’s the
point when I was still relatively new to comics and collecting, and all the
series I read, at the time, just had an immense impact on me. Primarily, I was a DC guy, with titles like
the Flash, Justice League, Superman, Batman, Green
Lantern, and such occupying much of my interest, though I did have
occasional forays across the way, to Marvel, with the likes of Avengers and
Captain American and Silver Surfer (ah, Ron Lim, you did the
Surfer right). But the book at the top
of the pile, every month, was Suicide Squad.
This was a
comic that was unlike all the other superhero books I was reading. A collection of villains, and psychologically
suspect heroes, tasked by the government with the dirty jobs that the pristine
heroes could not be expected to do (assassinations, prisoner escapes, covert
ops in foreign lands). If they were
successful, and survived, their sentences would be commuted. But…there was always the chance they could die
on the mission, and that threat was very real.
With the likes of Captain Boomerang, Bronze Tiger, Rick Flagg,
Enchantress, Gypsy, Vixen, Deadshot, and Amanda Waller, “The Wall,” along with
a fantastic supporting cast, this was a book that surprised and engaged month
in and month out. There was real pathos
and melodrama, thanks to Ostrander and Yale, and it was wonderfully illustrated
by the likes of McDonnell, Karl Kesel, Geof Isherwood, John K. Snyder III, and
others. And, like Hama with G.I. Joe,
Ostrander & Yale managed to layer in the exposition without weighing down
the narrative with it, a task far harder than it looks. I love this book, and if you were
disappointed with the movie (or even if you enjoyed it) you should seek out
these original stories, because they are some great, exciting, and fun
comics.
Now, what are yours?
-chris
