Why not superheroes?

I read comics. I have for over 25 years — or much longer, if I count reading my dad’s comics. But I’ve been buying my own since ’85 or so... with a hiatus during high school and college (undergrad), as there weren’t any comic stores nearby. A few years ago, I thought I’d like to teach a course on comics, so I really got going then, expanding my own collection (which came here from my parents’ place once we bought a house) and paying attention to criticism, trying to expand my knowledge from personal anecdote to proper scholarship.

It struck me, though, that there seems to be two tiers of scholarship about comics. There’s one level of comics that’s really serious: scholars talk about Eisner’s Contract with God, Spiegelman’s Maus, Pekar’s American Splendour, Satrapi’s Persepolis, etc. Heavy, generally independent, “literary” comics. Then there’s a second level, almost second-rate, where superheroes are discussed. And that’s not terribly often. I’m not entirely sure why superheroes are dismissed so blithely, but I’m going to float some ideas. Let me know what you think in the comments.

It seems to me that superheroes get little good press with scholars, it seems. There really don’t seem to be many people writing about them. Two of the most respected creators in comics writing, Alan Moore and Frank Miller, are best-known outside of comics fans for their works responding to superheroes and their mythology.* Scholars who want to talk about superheroes generally discuss the work of these two, or they take a more historical approach and discuss the rise and periodization of comics, focusing on the major figures of comics (Superman, Batman, Spider-Man, the X-Men, etc.). Some will combine the two, for instance, talking about Dennis O'Neil's 1970's Green Lantern/Green Arrow comics, and the social issues addressed therein. Any deviation from some of these well-known, well-established, and well-loved figures prompts some sort of defensive or apologist stance from the author, as though there’s some agreement that other comics are unworthy of scholarly attention. Fans often take an apologist stance, too, when they present papers featuring superheroes.

This is the wrong attitude, I say. Sure, it’s a reflection of literary studies to want to discuss the whole story, from beginning to end, talking about character development and the intricacies of plot in some implicit (and sometimes explicit) worship of the genius of the author. And this just doesn’t work with comics. I don’t think anyone’s going to give Stan Lee (Fantastic Four, Spider-Man, the X-Men) an award for his prose. And, let’s face it, it’s tough to talk about character development when a character has no definite end, and origins can be tampered with. There are no conclusions to the stories, either: Superman and Batman have been in continuous publication for over 70 years, and many of Marvel’s big names have been around nearly 50; during that time, they all have appeared in multiple comics, either as a headliner or as a guest-star. And those comics have had multiple authors during their decades-long runs, and different stories sometimes bring the characters to different places in the same month... it can be a headache keeping track of one popular character. Add to that the current glut of cross-title “event stories,” for which the reader is expected to be familiar with every major character from decades of monthly publications, the characters’ relationships to the reader’s favorite, the villains and supporting cast of the focus titles, and you can see that traditional scholarship, which is putatively focused on the finite productions of literary masters, simply cannot be applied to reading comics. Literary studies are almost always focused on single works or collections by a single author. Those few that do deal with larger areas (e.g., Arthurian studies) necessarily limit themselves, usually to a certain subset (e.g., Victorian Arthuriana; Sir Gawain; French tales). Comics are much more of a hydra — never-ending tales about immortal characters.

So what can be done? Do we need a new approach to comics scholarship? Is it possible to discuss individual stories in an ongoing series? Has the concept of a shared universe made things too difficult for scholars? Can comics scholars write for themselves? That is, can we expect people to be familiar with the stories, or do we need to recap and carefully discuss the characters and events before we can address any specific critical issues that have drawn our attention? I don’t know. I do think a new way of talking about the big names is not a bad idea. But there really aren’t any good models of which I am aware. And scholars certainly don’t seem to be generating a lot of new material on comics. Or if we are, it’s too disparate (and, perhaps, too desperate) to command a lot of attention and generate a specific direction for comic book studies.

Perhaps what we need is a new focus. We should look at different materials, we should look at different comics, not just focus on the aforementioned indies and major titles. The big names (Batman, Superman, Spider-man, etc.) are stable – they’re not the titles with the really fun stuff going on, and they really haven’t been since their first decade or so. I don’t want to suggest there’s no new story, but let’s face it – changes for these characters are either glacially slow (how long was Spider-Man in high school? In college?) or they’re overturned within a few years (consider the deaths of Superman, Captain America, and Robin – all have been undone). it’s easy to be dismissive of change, because those changes will be written out of continuity, or they’ll be undone through some deus ex machina plot to return the character to a more nostalgic presentation.

On the other hand, there are many second-tier figures, shorter-lived comics, that are worth checking out. In the 1970s, the (extremely) restrictive Comics Code was weakened, and the comics companies allowed a lot of play for their creators.** Some characters were created primarily for legal reasons (e.g.., Spider-Woman and She-Hulk were created to simultaneously create and protect the franchise), but some titles have really strange things happening in them.*** They’re not the big name titles, they’re not the summer blockbusters that get people to read comics in the first place. They’re the second- tier (or third-tier) magazines that the publishers can let slide. They’re the titles that can be weird because they don’t have to be marketable to a broad audience who won’t get the in-jokes, or who won’t appreciate the bizarre things that are happening and can only happen in this medium.

I would challenge scholars to start looking at these figures, at these characters, who can play a great deal, who can show development because their characters are not enshrined as the main draws in the publisher’s universe. Readers know what to expect from Superman, from Batman, from Spider-Man, from the Fantastic Four, and any deviance from those expectations has to be short-lived or the readership will disappear. But characters like Howard the Duck, Swamp Thing, She-Hulk, Moon Knight, and teams like the Defenders have a lot more freedom: since they’re not as popular, they’re not as widespread, and their fans are comics fans, willing to allow their creators more room to explore the possibilities of the medium. They’re not locked into characterizations, and this allows them the ability to be more experimental and, therefore, more exciting to scholars. Now scholars just have to find these treasures and start discussing them.

Just some thoughts — please do let me know if you agree, disagree, or simply want to weigh in! There’s lots more to say, but I need to stop somewhere, and this is it...

* For those who don’t follow comics, Moore’s Watchmen and Miller’s Dark Knight Returns are still very well-regarded, as is Miller’s run on Daredevil. Interestingly, both have used their fame to launch non-superhero projects.

** You can read the original code at this website; Amy Kiste Nyberg also wrote a very readable history of the code (Seal of Approval: The History of the Comics Code [Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 1998]), well worth checking out for more, including the full text of all three versions of the code.

***Admittedly, this reflects the creative team – how far were the authors and artists willing to go, and how far did their editors let them go. But considering the lassiez-faire attitude coupled with the huge workloads the editors carried, there was a lot more experimentation than would be expected.