Canada Day...

Happy Canada Day

There aren't many Canadian superheroes at Marvel, but what they lack in quantity they make up in quality.

Wolverine, the best there is at what he does, proving both the truth and lie of the Canadian stereotype.

Northstar: fast, famous, gay and proud. And married.

Puck, short, feisty and clever.

And Deadpool... the wild card in the mix.

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I was amused by this article on i09 by Meredith Woerner: 'What would the newsstands look like if the Avengers were real'?

I love Hawkeye's casual sprawl on the New Yorker, compared to Tony's businesslike pose:

Friends have quibbled: how do we imagine a world in which S.H.I.E.L.D.  exists, and is publicly known?  In which it isn't just the Avengers and Nick Fury who know Bruce Banner is the Hulk?

Well, hey, it's just another alternate reality, with another set of challenges and concerns. I have no problem with that.

Thor should be there, too, with his red cape and big smile. Or his helmeted scowl and hammer.

My favourite: the In Touch cover that has Hawkeye and Black Widow dating.  Does that mean I'm a Natasha/Clint shipper?  Naw, of course not.  Not really.  Hardly.  Well, only a little.  Or... maybe.  Frankly, I wish Black Widow and Daredevil still wanted each other.  But I can cope.

These days, I can't help being more of a Clint/Kate shipper. Fraction and Aja, what have you done to me?

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The best of the best...

Every once in a while there is a comic so good that I find myself thinking about it in the weeks after it comes out, anticipating the next issue.  Rereading it.  Speculating about the story.

These series, or runs, or stories are rare.  They don't happen every year.  They usually don't last as long as I'd wish - which would be forever.

The best comic of the year is Hawkeye by Matt Fraction and David Aja. It's the story of what Clint Barton, the archer Hawkeye in The Avengers, does when he's not doing things with the Avengers. It's about his friendship with Kate Bishop (the other Hawkeye) and his interactions his neighbours.  Because David Aja is the best of the best and genius can't keep to a tight monthly schedule, some issues are drawn by other artists - intrinsically inferior, because they aren't David Aja, but chosen for their abilities to do work comparable to his, and not dissimilar.

And it's about Hawkeye's dog.  Lucky is the dog's name, but everyone thinks of him as Pizza Dog. In similar manner, we think of Clint Barton as Hawkguy, to distinguish him for Kate as Hawkeye; a name given to him by Matt Fraction's four year old.  Who says families don't collaborate?

This month's issue, vol. 4 #11, was called "Pizza Dog in Pizza Is My Business".  It was written from the point of view of Pizza Dog, who became part of Clint's life back in issue #1, when he saved Clint's life - and Clint saved his.  Pizza Dog had belonged to some unsavory types who wanted rid of Hawkeye.

Sounds silly, no?  Like the old stories of the 1960s in which Krypto would save Superboy from Kryptonite, and the Legion of Super-Pets would have word balloons full of words.  And wear capes.

Pizza Dog does not wear a cape, though he has a collar.  He thinks, as dogs would, in terms of images and smells and sounds.  He's very responsible: when Clint tells him to keep an eye on the place while he's out. Pizza Dog does.

Seeing the world through Pizza Dog's eyes, we get insight into what is going on, including things which relate to Pizza Dog's unsavory past, and details of Clint's neighbours' lives.  Besides the charm and intelligence of the story itself, there's the viewpoint that isn't from a dog who thinks like a human, or has human concerns: he's a dog.  A dog ready to do what a dog's gotta do.

I can't claim Pizza Dog isn't cute, with his missing eye and his floppy ears.  But he's more than cute: he's a personality.

But, more... This issue makes clear that things in the previous ten issues which seemed unrelated to each other were all part of a bigger picture.  The story coalesces.  We don't have all the details, but this issue - though happily complete on its own - gives us a few "ahah!" moments.

Loved the scene of the cops coming to ask Clint questions about a murder:

The intelligence and artistry that goes into this comic has me in awe.  If it doesn't win the comics awards this year, it should.  Despite some stiff competition.

How many days till the next issue?

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Rich Johnson posted a good review of this same comic on Bleeding Cool.

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Vin Diesel...

I came across this item on i09: Could Vin Diesel Be Headed to the Marvel Universe?. Seems Marvel asked for a meeting with Vin Diesel, and the fans are speculating which character they might want him to play - epecially in one of the movies known to be in the works.

I'd like to see him as Dormammu.
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Let's start with a dream list...

Comics are an ongoing delight: full of surprises, suspense, drama and frustrations.  There are a great many things going on in comics these days that I would never have anticipated, ranging from the ridiculous to the wonderful.

So: in a continuing ongoing countdown, this is my letter to Santa Claus.  This is what I want to see in my comics: the top ten things I am not getting now, starting with #10.

10. Gambit

Gambit.  Sure, we have a Gambit comic, soon to be cancelled, I hear.  And not before time.  It was disappointing. It wasn't what I was looking for.  In old comics, Gambit catches my eye even when he's in the background:  as acrobatic as Spider-Man, as wily as Loki, a tease and a torment but a reliable friend in need. Fearless in a fight. Elusive in personality.  Perpetually dynamic.

I know many women who say Gambit is their favourite X-Men character.  The sexiest, the smartest.  But we've had years now of Gambit being less sexy, less smart, and taking a minor role.  Remember how comic used to have adult superheroes with teen side-kicks?  With Gambit, they reversed the pattern: the adult superhero become the companion, advisor, and sidekick to a teen whose story we were following: Jubilee and then X-23.  He went from being the bad boy of the X-Men to being a benign, favourite uncle.

Not that I have any problem with that: I just wish he'd kept his edge.  He should have a good heart and a dangerous manner, but smooth, smooth as satin.  A glib chameleon as much at home in dark underworld alleys as he is in exclusive hotels.

A man always in motion, always making himself one step ahead of the game - and there's always a game.

And Rogue?  I'd rather she came nowhere near him.  I adore her, but her role in Gambit's life has done him no good.  Let him take his loss with a broken heart and an eye to flirtation.

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Where it all began...

I'm here to talk about comics.  I have been reading comics, loving comics, for a very long time - since before the Marvel Age of the early 1960s.  I loved the medium.  I read whatever I could get my hands on, with hoarded allowance, at the local corner store.  It wasn't much, but it was precious to me.

Then one day I picked up, on spec, a new comic that caught my eye - well, new to me.  Something I'd never heard of.  Fantastic Four #18, it was called - "Return of the Super-Skrull", by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby.


I was mesmerized.  The characters, the situation, the dialogue all seemed so interesting after the pale and superficial stories I'd been reading in comics before.

I'd loved the medium already. Now I was in love with a genre.

I haunted that corner store in search of more Marvel titles.  Spider-Man #4 was the next one I found.  Then Journey into Mystery, with Thor, God of Thunder - suddenly I had a fascination with Norse gods. First issues of more comics started to appear, like Daredevil and X-Men.  I was particularly fond of Sgt. Fury and his Howlin' Commandos, subtitled The war comic for people who hate war comics.  Yup: that was me.  I read it out loud to my dolls, trying to imitate Nick Fury's gruff voice.

None of my friends liked comics, which is maybe why I still feel the need to talk about comics in a blog today.  My parents waited patiently for me to outgrow my fascination: if they were still alive, they'd be still waiting today.  Smart kids didn't read comics.  Girls didn't read comics, except for Millie the Model and sometimes Archie.    So I occasionally read Millie the Model for the sake of gender solidarity, and then went back to reading and rereading and loving the superhero stories.

When I went to England as a student in the mid-1970s, I thought I could go without comics for a year.  Perhaps I could have, but I didn't even try: I found a street-cart selling American comics on Charing Cross Road, and was able to buy Master of Kung Fu and Conan the Barbarian and Spider-Man on a regular basis.

I wrote letters to comics, my first one published in Fantastic Four #32.  I wrote more letters to comics,  and do it still. I married (and later divorced) a man I met through comics.  I found friends who read comics in SF fandom, and then - with the invention of the Internet - online.  I found fanfic and meta writers and reviewers and costumers.

In the early 1980s, Frank Miller told me he thought the comic book industry would be gone in another five years. I am so glad he was wrong. The publication of comics - in the U.S. and elsewhere - just goes on and on.  With new delights, disappointments, and developments all the time.  Manga!  Blockbuster Hollywood movies.  TV shows based on comics.  Novelizations, graphic novels, books teaching how to write or draw comics, how to read them.  Books about their history.  Magazines, reviews, webcomics, and blogs like this one.

I have opinions on all of it.

Who am I?  Writer, editor, virtual assistant, tarot reader, office manager.  Canadian, female, bisexual.  Humanist.  Historian.

And always happy to talk about comics.