I learn over at Buzz.mn that today is a celebration of comic books. I think my first step into comic books was X-Men 197 which would have been around 1985. (This issue sold for $.65 and is now worth ten dollars or so. And no, I don't have any of them left.)
The comic dealt with a plucky group of outcasts who were often looked at as outlaws. My brother and I quickly fell in love with the whole thing. We bought new issues and back issues and expanded to other comics. This was our shared literature.
The fellow on the left there is Nightcrawler, my favorite. He was forever on the outside because of his blue skin. Gifted with amazing acrobatic prowess and the ability to teleport. He loved the swashbuckler films of the '20s. I stopped reading the new stuff years and years ago so I don't know what's happened to him or the rest of the group (guess I could catch up on Wikipedia).
In recent years I've taken to buying some of the reprints in an effort to recapture some of my youth. It's incredibly satisfying. (And not too expensive if done in moderation. Hey, it could be worse, I could be addicted to XBox or something.)
Comic books offer stories in an easy to digest fashion. That doesn't mean that they're useless. They provide drama and conflict in quicker doses than a fully bound book. And sometimes, some lonely teenager will look at a blue skinned freak who still has a joy for life and think, I may not have it so bad after all.
2 comments:
I picked up the X-Men: Deadly Genesis tpb the other day. It takes place after House of M. Pretty good, actually.
Rachel doesn't understand...
I started buying comics with (naturally) the Mutant Massacre in X-Men, then branched out to various other Marvel comics (never read the Fantastic Four, though).
My mother sold all my comics at a yard sale for ten cents apiece the first year I lived on campus, without telling me. I forgave her...eventually.
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