May 1, 2008

More From the Fantastic: A Problem of Genre(s)

by Chris M.

What follows after the break is an exploration of genre concerns related to the Fantasy and Superhero fiction genres, which I feel are similar in many ways and face similar issues in the marketplace. I will also talk briefly about Peter Coogan's Superhero: Secret Origin of a Genre, quote an anarchist, examine Marvel's Civil War, and profess my undying affection for Grand Funk Railroad. I hope you will enjoy it...

I finally got around to reading Peter Coogan's Superhero: Secret Origin of a Genre (seems like I'm always reading things I want to read months, or even years, later than I'd like). I heartily endorse Senor Coogan's book. The bad: There's a Freudian analysis of Superman (which Coogan quotes -- it's not his original work) that is the sort of overwrought, academic silliness that gives intellectualism a bad name. Also, Peter's breakdown of the "ages" of comics doesn't work for me, largely because I don't believe that the data he uses to support his analysis actually prove or strongly support his conclusions (quite the opposite in some instances).

The rest of the book, however, is largely wonderful, and his general analysis of the superhero genre and the chapter on super villains should be required reading for anyone with a real passion for, or interest in, superheroes or superhero stories. Its use in differentiating comic book "ages" aside, I also quite liked his application of Thomas Schatz's Hollywood Genres theory to the Superhero genre.

The next book on my to-read shelf right now is a new edition of a book by Michael Moorcock called Wizardry & Wild Romance: A Study of Epic Fantasy. I've only read the introduction and the forward so far, but it appears that Moorcock's thesis is that the fantasy genre has largely devolved into uninspiring, repetitive imitation. Ignoring how you may or may not feel about Mr. Moorcock's own work, he clearly has a point (um, y'know, assuming that I'm right and that turns out, in fact, to be one of his points).

(BTW, both volumes mentioned above are currently published by MonkeyBrain Books, who also publish works by our own Jess Nevins and Matthew Rossi as well as several other titles I'm keen to check out in the future. I can smell what the MonkeyBrain is cooking, and I like it. And hey, they're here in Austin not too far from where I live! I think a field trip may be in order... :-)

In the introduction, China Mieville quotes anarchist Errico Malatesta as saying, "Everything depends on what people are capable of wanting," and then adds himself: "We should be capable of wanting more than we get from the fantastic, that, after all, we love. We should be capable of demanding vision, and passion." What Mieville says about fantasy is, I feel, equally applicable to the Superhero genre (particularly in comics published by Marvel and DC).

Superhero Fiction and Fantasy are my two favorite genres, and it seems to me that they share the same dilemma. As Prof Coogan, following Schatz, eruditely points out, a genre becomes a genre because some storyteller or group of storytellers hits upon on a combination of storytelling elements and conventions that strikes a chord with a large enough block of story consumers that imitation is inevitable. Personally, as someone who likes to read works that are like works that I like, I have no problem with this at all. Still, Mieville and Moorcock clearly have a point about the problem of a genre becoming overwhelmed with imitations of imitations of imitations of imitations. And if it's true of Fantasy, what then of Superhero comics, which have even tighter and more formalized genre strictures than Fantasy?

I'm such a devotee of the comfortable and familiar that I am well-known for being the single greatest living apologist for Grand Funk Railroad, and yet even I recognize that the plain formulae of "standard" DC and Marvel superhero stories gets kind of stale. But I view this as a problem that can be overcome with a combination of high craftsmanship and the energy generated by unfettered imagination.

But what we've seen DC and Marvel creators in the superhero space try to do to freshen things up has largely been to play with the genre conventions themselves, a natural stage in the evolutionary track for genres. Of course, when done in exemplary works like Dark Knight Returns and Watchmen, that's great, but when executed by someone who is perhaps not a master craftsman, the results are often uglier than a simply boring formula genre piece would be (although I guess there's some merit to the "better to fail spectacularly while trying something daring" school of thought).

Or maybe it only seems like this playing with genre conventions thing is what's going on. Upon further review, it seems that imitation is so endemic to Marvel and DC superhero comics that DKR and Watchmen didn't open the doors for a new era of exploring genre conventions so much as they just impressed many comics creators with what seemed to be newer and better tropes to imitate. This is perhaps why genre-bending elements of those two works (and some others) have been used in many places where they weren't appropriate, helpful, or a positive narrative elements -- most notably in the mainstream serial superhero comics that are otherwise firmly ensconced in heart of Coogan's well-reasoned and well-defined genre conventions (most of which run contrary to, or at least at a sharp right angle from, the kinds of things Miller and Moore did so artfully in those two works).

For instance, I think the reason Marvel's "Civil War" was a narrative failure (and why I'm not holding out much hope for "Secret Invasion") is that I see no evidence that Bendis or most of the other writers who wrote material most directly in the core of the Civil War narrative are craftsmen of such skill or awareness that they can really push the Superhero genre envelope while making such efforts work within the context of the conventional Superhero genre Marvel Universe. (At the same time, they're not doing enough to completely break out of the envelope of the genre and pull the mainstream MU out of the traditional Superhero genre entirely, either.) It feels to me much more like the thinking was: "Hey, wouldn't this cool?" "Hey, wouldn't this shake things up?" "Hey, wouldn't this be a great event that will sell a metric assload of issues to the fanboys?" And without much regard for at all for the genre context within which those stories manifestly exist (and over at DC we've had things like Identity Crisis about which the above comments equally apply).

[Aside: I'd like to propose the term "fanpeeps." "Fanboys" has lost almost all of its borderline-affectionate quality and seems snotty or condescending most of the time. I do not view myself as being somehow much different or superior to the fanboys, even though I do not consider myself one simply because I dislike too much of what Marvel and DC produce. But I do feel that all the fanboys are my peeps, and therefore we are fanpeeps together. I'm your captain, yeah, yeah, yeah...]

The way these factors have coalesced have created the current lather-rinse-repeat cycle of Big Events that alternate between generating big changes (characters killed, characters transformed, status quo significantly altered) and, well, undoing those big changes. A component of this same dynamic is Big Events that deviate sharply from the traditional Superhero genre conventions/status quo and Big Events that then seek to undo some amount of the later-perceived damage that was done. And as Del Amitri sang, the needle returns to the start of the song and we all sing along like before.

My personal feeling is that this drunken stumbling around in the hallway of our beloved genre has done it some not inconsiderable damage while not particularly "advancing" it very far in any meaningful sense, nor has it provided us with a great deal of better-than-formula material along the lines of what Mieville and Moorcock seem to be yearning for in the Fantasy genre (although certainly there are a respectable number of individual instances that are, and that would give me a lot more hope if it weren't for things like Civil War and Identity Crisis).

The most direct refutation of what I've written here is the now oft-heard "We/you are not the target audience anymore" argument. For instance, I am told by the guys who run my local comics shop that any single issue of Dan Slott's rather-not-to-my-liking (to put it mildly) Avengers Initiative has outsold any two of the best-selling issues of Mr. Slott's She-Hulk or Thing (rather enthusiastically more to my liking). So maybe I am out of touch with the market.

Maybe. But I think what's happened is more like this: Through attrition, a sizeable segment of Those Who Remain (perhaps -- probably? -- the majority) are predisposed to like these Big Event, big crossover cycles. Certainly a great many people I know who've quit buying Marvel and DC superhero books entirely cite their antipathy for the Big Events and big crossovers as a major contributing factor in that decision. It wouldn't surprise me if a great many of Those Who Remain still feel the excitement and narrative gravity that the pulse-pounding heart of a shared, serial universe generates -- and I don't blame them one bit. I still feel that pull tugging on my own psyche from time-to-time (far more often than I'd like, frankly) and it is a beautiful, powerful thing. I believe that a significant reason why an issue of Avengers Initiative so decisively outsells an issue of She-Hulk or Thing, especially given Slott's style on the latter two, is that the latter two were outside of the core thrust of what's generating the most buzz and the most energy in the MU right now, which was the Bendis-ized Avengers-driven Civil War (which itself is dovetailing into the Bendis-ized Avengers-driven Secret Invasion).

The problem for me is that right now too many individuals in what is left of the market are, in a sense (and to paraphrase Malatesta), simply not capable of wanting more or better than what they're getting. I do not mean that this is a failure of taste or intellect on their part (see "Grand Funk Railroad" previously). I've made an effort to talk to people in different comic book shops who are buying some of these event-committed books that I dislike, and very few people I've spoken with like them without some kind of caveat or reservation (hey, I don't like every Grand Funk album without reservation either), sometimes to the point of acknowledging their dislike. Anecdotal evidence, but I bet it's not uncommon.

And it's not that, just as examples, Civil War and Secret Invasion aren't perfectly nifty ideas for Superhero genre stories. The latter is a little easier to pull off than the former, but both are doable and potentially quite good. It's that the level of actual execution of those stories and some of the significant (and, in my opinion, genre or MU-damaging) creative decisions aren't good enough even from a purely technical, craft-oriented perspective. At least, not as good as what we should be demanding.

Like Mieville, I feel we should be demanding more from the fantastic (that, after all, we all love) that Marvel and DC put out there every week for us to buy. Because really, a whole lot of it just isn't all that fantastic (even when that adjective appears in the title of the series).

Now, to me what's interesting about all this is that Mieville and I both feel this impulse so strongly about two different genres and that Mieville would probably be sorely disappointed by the level of formula that I am capable of wanting. But something Doc Coogan's work has made me realize is that formula has been the wrong way to look at it all along. It's not about formula; it's about working within the most-excellent space defined by the genre conventions (and tweaking them and bending them to good effect when you truly need to -- and have the skill to pull it off).

What I'm hoping to find within Mr. Moorcock's book are thoughts and concepts that will generate ideas about how to bring fresh energy to Fantasy, how to expand it, how to play with its conventions, how to bring ideas, energy, and sources from outside the genre into it to liven it up, and ways that great genre stories can be generated along its edges or by playing against its conventions (but doing so with skill and respect for the genre at the same time). Anything at all along these lines will make me very happy, because I feel there's a decent chance that anything like this that Michael Moorcock has to say about Fantasy will apply to Superhero fiction as well. And I believe my favorite genre can use a whole lot more of that.

Posted by Chris M. at May 1, 2008 3:30 PM

Comments
#1 ::: Greg Morrow ::: May 1, 2008 4:23 PM ::: link

Coogan's Superhero previously discussed on HC here:

The Ages Again
The Secret Origin of a Genre
Ain't That a Kick in the Side (which has the particular virtue of Jess effortlessly destroying my entire point with the equivalent of "bats aren't birds")

#2 ::: Greg Morrow ::: May 1, 2008 5:23 PM ::: link

Like you, I think there's a deficit of craft in comics today, especially in the guys who are driving the big events. Brad Meltzer is, I think, the worst case; the flaws in Identity Crisis are numerous, distinct, and deep.

However, one thing that I do worry about is selection bias. We are more likely to remember the really good 70s and 80s comics (NTT) than the mediocre or bad ones (2nd Infantino Flash). And there are a lot of comics being published today. IIRC, Paul Levitz was quoted as saying something to the effect that DC published as many comics in the last decade (or two) as it did in its first fifty years. So it's very easy for us to find an example of a crappy comic of today and compare it to a great Bronze Age comic.

Now, is that what's going on? I don't think so (Civil War really did suck, and Bendis's Doom really was epic fail), but we do need to guard against it.

Another issue to think about is this may have a lot to do with disagreements over what the extents of the genre are. I claim that much of IC's faults lie in the notion that the genre just doesn't work as IC thinks it works.

But compare: I pretty much don't like Steve Gerber's entire career output, and in particular, I'm unimpressed with his standout 70s work in Howard the Duck, The Defenders, Omega the Unknown, etc. It might well be fair to characterize that as a difference in genre as anything else; Gerber's writing off in a region of the superhero genre that I don't accept or don't like.

Can we reliably distinguish between failure of craft and conceptual differences in genre?

I know what I like; and most Marvel and DC superhero comics aren't delivering it. I'm not sure how much beyond that I can commit to.

#3 ::: Dan Coyle ::: May 1, 2008 6:22 PM ::: link

I think part of the reason is that people don't demand more is because they've been browbeaten into thinking this is all they deserve. How many stupid nerd portrayals and parodies have their been in comics, from Sidney Mellon's Thunderskull to Evan Dorkin's repulsive Eltingville strip, to James Robinson's hateful Comic Book Villains, to the astonishingly childish The Boys?

Or take those defending Frank Miller's current blatherings as parody and comedy, and derisively calling those of us who don't think it's funny or thinking it tiresome or excessive or who don't spend every waking moment hating Paul Levitz as Miller does as fanboys who don't like the mirror held up to their hobby.

Mike Manley's quite frankly bizarre spluttering over a section of fans he's not even marketing his new show to is one of the best examples of this trend: are the bitter bee babymen that haunt his dreams really that much of a direct threat to him? He's a successful teacher, and can certainly get work outside of comics. Do they affect his personal life?

Well, do they?

Or does he just need noses to bloody so he can feel better about himself?

Warren Ellis also is heavily to blame for this: he didn't invent open contempt for the fanbase, but he popularized it and certainly made it fashionable. Unlike most people, I remember when Marvel was his White Whale, and he was leading us to the promised land, a future with better books as long as Elijah Snow beat up on Reed Richards enough, but all it took was a personnel change at Marvel for him to sing for his supper with grim and gritty Speedball.

Regardless of the quality of the books, and Ellis has turned out some good books, what message does it send when liking Star Brand ten years ago was The Death Of the Medium, yet revamping it is a-okay, as long as the checks clear?

The creators and the fans are leaning on the fanboys, the losers, as a crutch. I'm not like him, I'm not like her, I get paid, I don't get paid, I know this crossover is bunk so it makes me okay. They use it to build themselves up instead of finding realer things to hang their happiness on. If you live for the failures of others, how happy are you going to be?

Based on my encounters with these anti-fans over the years, not very.

Just do the best you can, and block out everything else.

#4 ::: David Goldfarb ::: May 2, 2008 4:53 AM ::: link

Greg@1: That's "Bats aren't bugs!".

#5 ::: Andy ::: May 2, 2008 2:18 PM ::: link

"What I'm hoping to find within Mr. Moorcock's book are thoughts and concepts that will generate ideas about how to bring fresh energy to Fantasy, how to expand it, how to play with its conventions, how to bring ideas, energy, and sources from outside the genre into it to liven it up, and ways that great genre stories can be generated along its edges or by playing against its conventions (but doing so with skill and respect for the genre at the same time)."

Unfortunately, from what I recall of Moorcock's essays (granted, it's been awhile) he didn't have a great deal of insight and a lot of it boiled down to "How come they're ripping off that horrible Tolkien when they should be ripping ME off?!" I like Moorcock as a fiction author, but not much as a critic.

I liked your essay, though :)

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