In Memory of Stan Lee and on the Joy of Collecting Comics

Image: The Hollywood Reporter (July 2016)

We assume, says Freud, a strangely considerate attitude towards the dead.

Not only do we suspend all critical judgement and turn a blind eye to their shortcomings, but we write nice things about them on social media in cultural obedience with the ancient command De mortuis nil nisi bene. This display of posthumous kindness and respect contrasts sharply with the mockery and malice we usually direct towards the living.   

So it is that I have refrained from saying anything about Stan Lee, the Marvel Comics genius who died, aged 95, earlier this month. Clearly a gifted, energetic and ambitious individual - and someone who exerted a significant influence over my childhood - I nevertheless struggle to think of anything more I can say about the man.

Truth be told, I always found him a little annoying and hated all that Excelsior! bullshit. What's more, looking back, I don't even think I really cared about his costumed heroes or storylines. What I really enjoyed, I think, was collecting comics rather than reading them.

That is to say, I loved them as cultural artefacts; glossy, colourful objects that had come all the way from America and which put homegrown comics (including the piss-poor British editions of Marvel comics) in the shade. 

The excitement lay in the anticipation of the books arriving monthly in the local newsagents and then going on a Saturday morning to buy (or steal) them. And the pleasure lay in piling 'em up on the floor and watching the collection grow, as I competed with my friend Andy to see who could get the most or earliest issues of those titles we privileged.       

Reflections on the Death of Steve Ditko

Steve Ditko: self-portrait (1964)

The Amazing Spider-Man Annual #1

steveditko.com

Regarded by many as a thinking man's Jack Kirby, American comic-book artist and co-creator of Spider-Man, Steve Ditko, has just been announced dead, aged 90. 

To be honest, I wasn't a great fan of his work; it was a little too weird for my rather conservative and conventional tastes as a child. But I'm perfectly happy to concede his genius to those who insist upon such and know better than I.

As always when someone dies, I can't help thinking about what happens to the corpse. The immortal soul of man conceived in spiritual-personal terms is of zero interest to me. But, as a thantologist, I'm fascinated by the body's shipwreck into the nauseous and the cosmo-molecular dispersal of atoms and their eventual recycling into all kinds of things, including new life forms.   

Interestingly, it just so happens that Ditko was an Objectivist (i.e., a devotee of Ayn Rand), so he would probably have agreed that there is no supernatural or spooky-mysterious aspect to death. There are physical processes and sub-atomic particles, but no heaven, no angels, and no life-after-death as theists conceive of it.

And to imagine that the mind might somehow transcend the demise and destruction of the body is just a ludicrous fantasy. Once your brain has liquidised and dribbled like snot out of your nose, you'll not be able to worry about it. In death, one does not exist; it's not the end of the world, but it is the end of the world for you ...

And so, after a long life of approximately 780,000 hours, Ditko's atoms are in the process of ending their happy affiliation and he's about to get a whole lot skinnier ...

In Defence of the Great White Male

Arthur Wellesley, 1st Duke of Wellington, 

Great White Male and one of the 

Founders of King's College London (1829) 

As I'm not a Doctor Who fan, the fact that the 13th actor chosen to play the role of the irritating Time Lord is a woman - Jodie Whittaker - doesn't greatly interest or concern me.

If obliged to comment, then I suppose I can't think of any good reason why he shouldn't regenerate in female form and, indeed, rather like the idea of a transsexual and transracial Doctor to whom all identities remain open as fluid possibilities. Michael Jackson, once rumoured to be in line to star as the Doctor in a big-screen version of the BBC TV drama, would have been ideally cast.

Most of the criticism aimed at Ms. Whittaker from fans of the show seems to be rooted in tedious, rather old-fashioned sexism and deeply unpleasant misogyny. Unfortunately, they'll just have to get used to the fact that as times change, so too do fictional characters evolve and sometimes radically transform. Indeed, readers of Marvel comics have long become accustomed to this phenomenon ...

Thus, for example, following the death of pale-faced Peter Parker, Spiderman became the superhero identity of Miles Morales, a young man of Afro-Hispanic origin. There's also a black Captain America (Isiah Bradley) and a totally awesome new Hulk who happens to be Korean (Amadeus Cho). In addition, Ms. Marvel is now no longer busty, blonde-haired Carol Danvers; she is, rather, Kamala Khan, a teenage Muslim of Pakistani origin. Oh, and Thor, the god of thunder, is now a woman too - just like Doctor Who! 

Again, this push for greater diversity - driven by the wish to establish a new and broader fanbase in order to sell more comics and thus make more money, rather than political correctness - doesn't really trouble me. In fact, if anything, I find it mildly amusing.

But what does concern me, however, is when the attempt to denigrate all that is male and pale as stale, isn't being played out in the queer world of sci-fi and superheroes, but within academia ...

Thus, the decision by King's College London to replace portraits of its founding fathers with a wall of diversity in order that today's student body doesn't feel intimidated, is, I think, deeply depressing and disappointing.      

For whilst it's one thing for contemporary culture to reflect the Volkerchaos of modern British society, it's quite another thing to try and launder history or erase the past. This is not just foolish, it's also slightly sinister - not to mention patronising towards those it's trying to protect from the inconvenient truth that whilst blacks have soul and women their intuition, only great white males have genius ...       

The Three Ducks (Donald, Daffy & Howard)

Donald Duck © The Walt Disney Company / Howard the Duck © Marvel Worldwide, Inc.

Daffy Duck © Warner Bros. Inc.

I have never been a great fan of Disney's Donald Duck. Partly, this is due to his choice of outfit consisting of blue sailor shirt, cap and red bow tie; not a look I much care for.

That said, he's clearly more interesting and more edgy than his friend and rival Mickey Mouse. For whereas the latter is simply irritating, the former is amusingly irritable and often seems at odds with those around him and in general conflict with life - a bit like a feathered George Costanza. Indeed, someone should write a comparative analysis of these two characters as they seem to share a wide range of personality traits.

Despite this retrospective Seinfeld connection, as a child I had much more time for Donald's Warner Bros. counterpart, Daffy Duck. Probably this has something to do with being part of a TV generation growing up on Looney Tunes, rather than being a regular movie-goer. Also, Daffy, created by Tex Avery, was, to me at least, simply funnier as well as a more contemporary-seeming, more savvy figure than Donald. Mel Blanc's brilliant vocal characterization doubtless played a large part in this. And, crucially, Daffy spurned the sailor suit and dared to go naked.

  

The third fictional bird to have played an active role in my imagination, is Howard the Duck, created by writer Steve Gerber and artist Val Mayerik for Marvel Comics in 1973. Like Donald and Daffy, Howard is often ill-tempered and foul-mouthed (no pun intended). But unlike them, his character lends itself more to nihilism and existential angst, rather than screwball comedy. 

For Howard reveals that life is joke. But it's an absurd and often cruel joke lacking in point or punchline. As Gerber once explained, via Howard he sought to demonstrate how the things, people, and events we value and take seriously are distinguishable from those things, people, and events we despise or think ludicrous only thanks to interpretation and perspectivism (i.e. personal prejudice and the contingency of viewpoint).

Unfortunately, Gerber and his publishers soon clashed over issues of 'creative control' and the writer was removed from his own series in 1978. The comic in its original format quickly folded. Around this time, Disney was also threatening to sue Marvel for copyright infringement, claiming that Howard looked too similar to Donald and insisting that the former put some pants on!

Today, now that Disney own Marvel, one can't help fearing that with or without trousers, Howard's days are sadly numbered.