Way back when I first started comics blogging, I did an entry that lashed out not only at the opinions of another blogger but at him personally. This was immature of me and I have come to regret it, especially because I have since then learned to greatly respect, if not necessarily agree with, his views on comics.
Right now is a frustrating time for me as a comics fan because there are so many good comics out there, worthwhile ones, fun ones, exciting ones, thoughtful ones, playful ones, dazzling ones, thrizzling ones (okay, maybe just one of those right now), and yet all anyone can seem to care about is what the “mainstream” superhero titles are up to. It depresses me when I see “exciting news” about some indie creator I like being pulled away from his fresh, indie book to go make the Hulk dance or whatever. Even someone as “popular” as, say, Dan Clowes couldn’t get a mention on most blogs unless he were to start writing Thor or whoever.
And, as usual, the worst part about this is that those who proudly stand up and say there’s nothing wrong with superhero comics and thats what they really prefer don’t seem to like them. I can’t tell you how often I see on peoples’ blogs how crappy some superhero comic they dutifully purchase is. It’s a cause for celebration, it seems, when some title rises even slightly above “mediocre” (witness the adulation behind Kingdom Come.) Few people seem to be enjoying the big summer events from Marvel and DC, but plenty more are buying every issue. That’s what just floors me. These things they’re defending are things they themselves don’t even like that much.
But Chris Butcher at comics.212.net is keeping the faith throughout this miserable climate. He’s constantly talking up good comics and I have learned to take notice of what he recommends. He’s a good egg, and I regret having said such nasty things about him in the past. I’m sorry.
I don’t want this to turn into yet another capes vs. indies slap-fight. I just wanted to give props to someone who deserves ’em.
(For the record, I do not regret or apologize for nailing Johnny Bacardi’s hand to a telephone pole and then pelting him with aluminum cans. He had it coming.)