I was on my weekly run to the comic shop yesterday. I strolled in casually, as I always do, but instantly the front case caught my eye. A beautiful collection of some early Tales of Suspense issues beckoned me, and I answered. I stared longingly at these books and began to reminisce of a childhood friend of mine.My friend's dad and brothers all had a vast collection of books. I could not wait to visit their house and rummage through all the wonderful issues. I was accustomed to 1970s reprints of Looney Tunes, which is fine for a child, but I was craving something a bit more substantial.
I started out purely interested in the artwork. The drawings I saw were simply incredible. I admired every page and longed for the day when I could draw in such a way. It became an aspiration. I immediately attempted to find any "how to draw" books or information about the artists. It was difficult for me to dive into a story if I did not connect to the art, which still holds true to this day. Yes, I did miss out on some quality reading, but those visuals framed my dreams.
As my fixation began, I actually found trouble with the works of Stan Lee and Jack Kirby. I found their work to be irrelevant and dated. Yes, I know now that this is blasphemy; they are creative geniuses. But my "aha" moment occurred when Roy Thomas began working on The Avengers. Those pesky little word balloons that got in the way of the art finally had a purpose for me. A door was opened. This small obsession transformed into a vast desire for more.
I wanted to read stories about superheroes. Not only did I dig the creativity of the art and the costumes, but I really enjoyed the characters. These superheroes were beyond human, they could do things that only kids would dream of, which is the purpose of their creation (in my opinion). I began to feel something for them.
Stan Lee and John Romita Sr.'s run of The Amazing Spider-man took me on an emotional ride. The idea of Peter Parker sacrificing himself for the well being of the city, barely having enough energy to focus on his aunt, resonated with me. Or when Hank Pym's new wife was gunned down before his eyes in Tales to Astonish. Or the notion that Iron Man, in Tales of Suspense, has to monitor his own health for fear of dying. They're real. There is an appeal about these damaged characters that form dimension around the human experience.That exquisite collection of Tales of Suspense that greeted me at the comic shop this weekend not only brought me aesthetic pleasure, but it brought forth the emotional response of why I love comic books.
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