Full disclosure: I think Gail Simone is an amazing writer.
I've thought that for a long time.
She's the writer who was chiefly responsible for getting me back into comics in my college years after a long absence brought on by my inability to handle how mainstream comics were treating women characters and women readers.
She was at the Portland landmark known as Powell's Books.
Powell's isn't quite as amazing at being a bookstore as Gail is amazing at being a writer, but Powell's is still pretty great. Do check it out.
And, while you're there, pick up a copy of the first volume of Gail's new comic book series Leaving Megalopolis. She wrote it, and I should also add here that J. Calafiore drew it, Jason Wright colored it and Dave Sharpe lettered it.
And I mean it when I say this: seriously - pick it up. Support it. Pay for it twice so you can give it to a friend.
Because it's really, truly great.
And it's great for a ton of reasons.
But I don't want to really TELL you those reasons.
Which is why the pictures I usually include in my blogs are so general this time.
Because you need to step into this world.
And you need to do it now.
Or, better yet, yesterday.
Because this is a world - and a story - that runs deeper than its surface elements.
And it's about the real world, really. And real human beings.
And how and why and when and where we need heroes.
And about what we've done - as people, not just as comic book fans, but across the spectrum of American media and culture - to the very idea of what makes a person a hero.
And what that says about us.
And what, maybe, we can do to fix it.
Because we've become a mess.
And the core inspirational power of heroism is, to my thinking, symbiotic.
Because that's how inspiration works.
It's infectious. It gets under the skin. It gets into the blood.
But it can also carry with it other elements.
Because we can be inspired to stand for what is best in ourselves.
And when we do that, our heroes reflect that. And when that happens, we feel stronger, and we act according to that strength.
Which, in turn, further inspires others to stand for what is best in themselves.
But not everyone wants to rise to that occasion.
Because there are easier ways to feel strong without actually being strong; these ways are easier, and they're also much faster.
And, today, so many people want everything to be much faster.
And we're so anguished by the suffering we've become aware of in the world that it can - and has begun to - change the values of what we define as heroism.
We value proactivity over patience. We value action - any action - over reason or strategy.
And we so often come to value our heroes by the impact of their power.
And that's what LEAVING MEGALOPOLIS is about, to me.
Your feelings may be different.
But that's what punched me repeatedly in the stomach as I read it.
But indictment, by itself, is simple.
"Dark, gritty, realistic" comic books indict the audience with graphic displays of sex and violence all the time, without saying a thing that's true about the real human condition of everyday life. "You should feel guilty for enjoying this comic," they say. "You should be ashamed."
But that's not really saying anything. Pointing at a problem isn't the same as solving a problem. And simply shouting and waving your arms isn't particularly heroic in most circumstances.
And that's where LEAVING MEGALOPOLIS also shines, because the writing speaks of what must be done at the same time as it illustrates the problems we have as a society with how we define heroes.
It puts it in bold relief, in fact, makes it clear and easy-to-see. It's simple in its brilliance and brilliant in its simplicity.
And it's the kind of story that feels like it has always been - like it has been waiting for someone to uncover it and tell it. And it feels that way because it is about human truths.
And the gorgeous art by J. Calafiore is a huge part of that, too.
Even though I'm not showing much of it here.
Because you need to open those pages and see it for yourself.
Because you need to see art that depicts real, human faces.
You need to see art that shows human figures expressing actual emotions and existing within a world of weight and consequence, where the things that happen from panel to panel actually matter to the narrative - the kinds of images that tell the exact-right amount of the story to go along with the dialogue.
And you need to see emotion illustrated into the eyes of humanized characters that tell us how they feel.
And, oh, do you remember what I said about how inspiration can be infectious?
Well, the issues discussed in this story will infect your head, too, I'll bet. And you'll quite possibly find yourself looking at your real world in a slightly different way.
And, maybe, your heroes, too.
Because our heroes reflect who and what we most want to be ...
... and maybe you should think about that. And who your heroes are, and what your heroes are.
Because heroes matter.
And we need them.
And we need them to be the best of us.
And, right now, they're not, in America.
So when you look at your heroes, please ask yourself some questions.
Is that who you want to be?
Is that what you want to be?
Because that's, in my opinion, what LEAVING MEGALOPOLIS asks.
And it asks it beautifully, and painfully, and tragically.
And heroically.
No comments:
Post a Comment