Joshua Unruh Glamour and glitter. Fashion and fame.

I’m The Reason We Can’t Have Nice Things

Before I even get started, I need everyone to go read Laura Hudson's heartrending article about the sexual politics of some DC superhero comics at Comics Alliance. For those of you that don't really pay attention to comics, it'll get you somewhere near part of my headspace. For those of you that do pay attention, if you haven't read this you need to because it made me think things. Go read it now, really.

Okay, get all that? Absolutely shocking on a variety of levels. First, that there could be that much misogyny or, at best, not giving a damn for the ladies, actual and potential, in your audience. Second, that this is part of DC's (last ditch, I suspect) attempt to make them matter to the larger world again. Thirdly, that actual paid professionals are handing in this kind of low quality work, not to mention it has gone through multiple sets of eyes when it comes to editors and art directors. But all that aside, it made me realize something potentially world shattering.

I stole this quote and usually say it with my tongue firmly in cheek, but I once read "superhero comics used to be for above average kids and now they're for below average adults." I usually trot it out for a particularly poor trend or example, but it hasn't ever felt more accurate than when I read Ms. Hudson's article. I fell in love with superheroes during the era when they were for above average kids. I learned new words, I learned a little about science, I was exposed to quotes from guys like Milton and Nietzsche, and I learned a little about life. I know that sounds awfully after-school special, but I learned lessons about being an outsider from Wolverine and about how doing the right thing sometimes still sucks from Spider-Man and about how not giving up means you always get some measure of victory from Batman, and a hundred more besides. Comics made me smarter and just a little bit wiser.

Now, we'll come back to Marvel in another post, but this is a lot less likely with DC's reboot superhero output. Most of it is, at best, a treading of story water or an endless retelling of the same handful of stories from the past 70+ years. An awful lot of it isn't even as good as that. Some of it is artistically bankrupt and actually upsetting, as in Ms. Hudson's article.

I know, I know, that sounds just like television and movies. Also, if I had more than five readers, the ones that are fellow comic fans would be in a froth over whatever books they would consider high quality work. But the place it falls apart for me is that superheroes should be primarily for, at oldest, a young adult audience.

That doesn't mean I shouldn't enjoy them! I read Young Adult novels now and then. I enjoyed the first couple Harry Potters, the ones that weren't a danger if they should fall on a toddler, and really enjoyed the Percy Jackson series. Honestly, I don't look that closely at the YA section anymore because I'm afraid I'd vanish down that rabbit hole and never return. I know plenty of adults that enjoy that stuff . They dressed up in robes and stood in line at midnight, with or without children, or had conversations with me about Percy while I was reading it. But, and this is the rub, they never expected anything other than Young Adult fiction. There could be excitement, adventure, danger, love, and maybe even sex, violence, and death, but all those subjects  would be seen through a YA lens.

If we suddenly started insisting that these characters were written for me, through the lens of a guy in his 30s, there would be some concerned sideways glances. Those glances would be from friends and family at least and probably the wider culture as well. Oh, I'm aware these types of things already exist, but that's how I know exactly how I'd react to them. And this general discomfort with things meant for children being repackaged in very adult ways is the proper response. Every time I see a child's story reimagined in some dark, or sexualized, or other "mature" manner, it breaks my heart a little. Except with superheroes. I have a tremendous double standard on superheroes.

With superheroes, I was the vanguard of those demanding that they be taken seriously as adult works. In the heady days of Watchmen and Dark Knight Returns when ridiculously pretentious terms like "graphic novel" came into vogue, I suddenly wanted, to paraphrase another CA columnist I've mentioned here before, Chris Sims, my stories about magic wish ring-wielding space cops and millionaires dressed in Dracula outfits punching muggers to be taken seriously. And ever since then, I've chafed at every suggestion that superheroes are low brow. I've railed against every "Bif-Bam-Pow, Comics Aren't For Kids Anymore" newspaper headline. The thing is, no matter what the wider world thought, as far as the superhero industry itself, we got our wish. Comics were no longer for kids.

Which was great for us because we weren't kids anymore and wanted to keep reading superhero books. We dredged them out of where they belonged, as clever, colorful children and young adult literature, and forced them to be something they were never supposed to be. And in doing so, we ruined them. I can't let my son read 99% of the superhero comics that hit the rack every Wednesday. Those of you that know me might say "That's because he's four." Yeah, well, he wouldn't be allowed to read most of them even if he were in his teens. Not because they're hyperviolent, which they are, and not because they're insensitive to women and people of color, which they are, but because they use those things as claims toward "maturity." I wouldn't let my boy waste his time on stupid, puerile material like that in a novel, on TV, or performed by a traveling troupe of mimes. He, and I, have better things to do.

So me and mine "won" but we poisoned at least the DC well and now we don't get anything that we want. We don't get to enjoy the characters of our youth in the same way that adults enjoy Harry Potter or Percy Jackson and we don't get to enjoy them through the eyes of children. Well, we do, but we have to do it with cartoons. Which, by their nature, are not as in-depth an experience and lack the longevity of reading comics. My son loves Spider-Man. We watch a LOT of Spidey cartoons. We watch Spider-Man cartoons that are over forty years old and Superman cartoons even older than that. He cannot get enough.

If he were six or eight years older, I might let him grab Spidey off the rack. I was involved in a twitter conversation with the Spidey writer about what was appropriate for kids, and he has the right idea. But there is almost no way I'd actually let him grab a Batman or  Superman book off the rack without me reading them first. I'd probably disqualify most of DC's reboot output. And this isn't just me as a dad. I don't want to read mediocre or exploitative stuff either. I want he and I to be able to read smart, clever, teachable YA lit that involves people with super powers doing incredible things. I don't think I get to have that anymore on the DC side of the street anymore. And it's my own fault.

There are plenty of caveats here. It has been pointed out to me that the majority of recent Marvel books would probably qualify as YA friendly. I'll be doing some research into that shortly. There's also the conversation of comics as a medium and superheroes as a genre, but I hope I've made it clear I'm not talking about espionage comics, crime comics, or slice-of-life comics, just the spandex crowd.

You know what? In a month, I may completely disagree with everything I've said here. Or I may agree that Marvel is still doing the kind of work I want while DC is just making wild grabs at mostly nonexistent dollars belonging to those below average adults. I admit I'm still processing. And if, by some long stretch, Ms. Hudson reads this and completely disagrees with me, she shouldn't be offended that her article sparked the thoughts. Her very insightful words were simply the last thing I read that made me sad for superhero comics and their fans. And it was that sadness that made me think I might have been part of something that ruined the very thing I loved.

I'll try and be less maudlin Wednesday. I promise.