Every once in a while I come across a column or essay that makes me sit up and take notice. Usually because every fiber in my being cries out, “No. Nope. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong.”
Jennifer de Guzman’s column last weekend for the soon to be no more Comic World News was one of those instances. Not that it was incoherent or poorly written. I just flat-out don’t agree with it.
In the column, de Guzman talks about her love for canonical literature and wonders why comics doesn’t have it’s own literary canon or “hall of fame”:
Comics are such a new medium that there really isn’t a canon for them. There are a few essentials whose titles everyone in comics trots out when faced with talking about comics-as-literature, sure. But how long can you keep citing Maus? (It won a Pulitzer, you know.) And what does Maus have to do with contemporary works in the same medium? And from what traditions in the medium did it arise? This is my problem when I read comics — in my mind, each work is solitary; it does not stand with its peers, working on similar themes with different nuances, adding to a conversation.
[snip]
Literature and the literary canon didn’t happen by accident. Writers consciously engaged with their society and culture, as well as others who practiced their craft. Schools of thought formed; individual visions of philosophical and cultural subjects emerged. Can the same be said of comics? Do the ties between one generation and the next ever move out of the superficial realm of influence and into the active engagement of conversation?
Sure they do. As a matter of fact, I can draw a direct line from the EC artists of the 1950s to the underground movement of the ’60s and ’70s to Love and Rockets to Fun Home. I’m not just talking about aping superficial things like the way OEL artists draw all their characters with big eyes and spiky hair and miss all the subtler storytelling stuff. I’m talking about exactly the sort of generational conversation and influence that de Guzman is referring to.
But my broader point is that there are and have been critical canons in the comics world for quite some time. In fact, there have been several different canons, depending upon what sort of comics you like, which may be part of the problem. For a very long time, for example, your average mainstream comic canon looked something like this:
- Jack Cole’s Plastic Man
- CC Beck’s Captain Marvel
- Will Eisner’s the Spirit
- Carl Barks’ Donald Duck stories
- John Stanley’s Little Lulu tales
- EC comics, especially Kurtzman’s Mad
- Kirby and Lee’s Fantastic Four
- Lee and Ditko’s Spider-Man.
I’m obviously omitting a few, but you get the idea.
If you were a comic strip fan, however, your list would look something like this:
- Little Nemo
- Gasoline Alley
- Krazy Kat
- Little Orphan Annie
- Popeye
- Dick Tracy
- Terry and the Pirates
- Peanuts
- Doonesbury
Moving on, your alt-comics list would look like this:
- Zap comix
- Raw
- Weirdo
- Maus
- Love and Rockets
- Eightball
- Acme Novelty Library
Again, I’m oversimplifying things, but hopefully you understand what I’m getting at, which is that there are a number of works that have been canonized for decades now already by fans and scholars alike. (Whether those works deserve their place on the mantle is another issue entirely.)
Note that these are as much historical canons as they are literary ones, by which I mean they are noted as much as for their historical significance as they were their aesthetic value. That’s the way these things tend to work.
As I said, part of the confusion over the existence of an actual comics canon or not may be that, unless you were one of those rare birds who didn’t codify their comic art, these various lists were rarely integrated. We tend to be very selective in our comics reading and — here’s the one point I will cede to de Guzman — because we aren’t taught to look outside our sphere of interest, either in academic institutions or critical tomes or just at the local shop, the choice pickings can seem hopelessly slim at times. (I think that will change as more and more colleges and K-12 schools start introducing comics into their curriculum, something I’m starting to see more and more of each year.)
Canonization is a tricky thing. Too many people take a “best of” list, especially when it comes from a benighted source, as gospel rather than view it as a constant evolving thing. I remember all too well the outcry when The Comics Journal published their list of the best comics of the 20th century way back in issue #210. Offended parties regarded the list as some sort of final word from TCJ rather than the start of a much-needed discussion.
In fact, I’d hazard a guess that part of the current backlash against Ware, the “Best American Comics” series, and the alt-comix crowd in general, is due to a fear that Ware et. al. are attempting to canonize certain types of comics at the expense of their own, personal favorites.
I want to address another point de Guzman brings up and that’s the lack of critical discourse regarding comics:
I think I might have come up with a theory about why this is so (smudgy and half-formed, as I said, so please indulge me): We don’t see more literary quality in comics being published today because too few critics treat comics as serious literature and art, critically reading and judging them without reference to non-literary works who happen to share the same format. I’m disappointed when I see “cultural critics” like Jeff Jensen, who recently wrote an essay in Entertainment Weekly about his love of comics, elevating the very genre that keeps comics from being taken seriously: superhero comics. (I know, I know, we don’t look to EW for high culture, but, really, was that the best they could give comics?) True comics advocates are not glorified fanboys. If the image of comics in society is that of source material for the latest summer blockbuster, why would anyone who wants to produce something of literary and artistic merit turn to comics as their medium? We’re lucky to get the few creators we have who have looked for and recognize literary merit in comics and endeavor to emulate it. If we’re going to get more of them, we need comics critics who treat the medium seriously, who, instead of glorifying the comics of their childhood and adolescence, know how to read comics and write about from as real literary critics.
I think de Guzman is far too pessemistic on this note. Looking around, it’s hard not to notice the number of intelligent, perceptive people writing about comics today, both on the Internet and off. I wouldn’t have started this column if I thought otherwise. Everyone and their uncle cites Jog, Doug Wolk and Tom Spurgeon, but there’s also Sean Colllins, the Thought Balloonists guys, everyone at Savage Critics and lots and lots of other people that I’m going to regret not including here.
Ok, de Guzman was talking about the media at large and not folks who operate within the comics community. Fair enough. Here’s the thing though. I write for the mainstream media (in my day job). So does Doug Wolk. So does Calvin Reid. So does Brigid Alverson. So do a host of other people and . Sure there’s plenty of pap and thoughtless reviews from bloggers and reporters who spew out ill-thought out opinions like piss at a beer festival. But I have definitely noticed a sea change in the way we talk about comics recently and it’s not just confined our own little Web-friendly circle.
I’m not saying we should be resting on our laurels or worry about these issues. They are important. But I think a wider perspective is needed in order to appreciate that things aren’t as bleak as de Guzman would have you think they were.
February 10th, 2008 at 5:08 pm
A Slave Labor Graphics employee? Pessimistic? I’m shocked, Mr. Mautner, I am SHOCKED!
February 10th, 2008 at 10:07 pm
Part of the problem about establishing a comic book canon (and I think one is basically understood–along the lines you mention in your example–and it’s one that I recently lectured about at the Norman Rockwell museum) is that there is no longer an accepted literary canon either.
For every classic work of literature that used to be canonical, there’s another that has taken its place, or a critic challenging its position. A student graduating with a degree in English Literature in 2008 could have read completely different literary works from someone else graduating with the same degree from a different university.
Setting up a comic book canon is just as problematic. But that won’t necessarily stop me from trying.
February 10th, 2008 at 10:53 pm
And what is that supposed to mean, Confirmed Coyle?
And Tim Callahan, a changing canon is a given. It is that active interaction with an art form that really matters. It is not a “best-of” list, as Mautner characterizes it, though he admits to oversimplification.
Also, Chris, I believe you are mistaking reviewing for criticism. Reviewing is important, as I’ve noted in the thread on The Beat about this, but they are not the same thing. Aside from Thought Balloonists and Douglas Wolk practice criticism, but I wouldn’t call what the fine folks you list criticism but rather reviewing.
And why does no one take note of the hopeful note the column ends on? I am not at all pessimistic and I don’t believe the situation is “bleak.” I believe things can getter better and I am calling for them to do so, which is the opposite of pessimistic, I believe.
February 11th, 2008 at 12:15 am
Allow me, if I may, to be melodramatic.
Please…God…No.
The establishment of a canon is the job of the critic and academic. It’s only when the people making a living from studying an art form outnumber the people who are legitimately enjoying an art form that a canon means anything. It is a postmortem activity performed upon the corpse.
Observe how the quality of prose writing drops dramatically (this is opinion, of course) post World War II as radio, television and movies overtake novels as popular art. After this point literary fiction becomes an ouroboros, eating its own tail in an effort to recreate the canon. It is only the authors working in genre (or ghetto) fiction that truly create great works (Vonnegut, Huxley, Tolkien).
Don’t misunderstand me. I see the value of a canon, I do. But let’s not kill the patient just to do the autopsy.
Apologies for the drama.
February 11th, 2008 at 12:27 am
I find it hard to believe that more people study films than enjoy them, yet there is clearly a cinema canon which is just as constantly assaulted as the literary canon is.
The canon is ONLY valuable as long as the art form thrives. If I give you a canonical list of Puritan poetry, it’s meaningless to you unless you care to read Puritan poetry.
The establishment of a canon is just another way to answer the question: what is good? And that’s an important question.
February 11th, 2008 at 9:46 am
There are glimmerings of more literary criticism of comics beginning to happen in academia; more academic literary conferences are calling for papers about comics and graphic novels. Mechademia is an annual juried collection of articles devoted to manga and anime. More colleges and universities are starting to build up comics/graphic novel collections in their libraries. It’s slowly starting to happen “out there” in the world of academe.
February 11th, 2008 at 10:42 am
Jen,
You are absolutely right that there is a difference between reviews and criticism. I tend to think it’s a fine line, however, and one with a good deal of overlap. I think most of the people I mentioned above have done a good deal of both. I could just as easily, however, cite folks like Bart Beaty, Jeet Heer, Todd Hignite and Matthias Wivel.
But, assuming you see the boundary as being more definitive, why cite Jeff Jarvis since he’s someone who clearly falls under the category of “reviewer” and not “critic?” You usually won’t find the sort of in-depth criticism you’re looking for in EW. That sort of thing tends to occur either within the community or in academic circles (I’m not saying it doesn’t happen, but “reviews” tend to be more sought after than “criticism” in general these days — it’s not just comics that suffers).
I think by and large we agree on the need for critical discourse. Where I think we disagree is what stage we’re at. The point I took from your column is that we’re not anywhere near where we need to be yet, whereas I think important strides have been made.
February 11th, 2008 at 10:43 am
“Sure there’s plenty of pap and thoughtless reviews from bloggers and reporters who spew out ill-thought out opinions like piss at a beer festival.”-
Considering that’s my stock in trade, my modus operandi, and some phrase-ology that’s going to be in brass above my computer as soon as the trophy shop gets finished, let me add a couple of thoughtless comments:
I like me some de Guzman. I like to read her. But this is weak stuff, because it’s arguing for something that already exists: Noah Berlatsky, Jog, Tim O’Neill and Douglas all do some comics criticism. Sure, a lot of comes out under the TCJ imprint, but hell, they exist, and they write it. She acknowledges that, but then goes on to complain that there isn’t enough of it? It’s just off the wall–none of these things, Exit Wounds, Acme Novelty, Black Hole, Fun Home, 300, All-Star Batman, Ultimates and the hand jobs–do any of those even breach the public the way that 27 Dresses does? Or professional wrestling? Or the Hottie and the Nottie?
Film and literature criticism gets a canon, and it gets extensive critical literature because it’s earned it by reaching all over the world, by brushing past millions of sales and billions of dollars. Comics, no matter how badass they might be, reach nothing in comparison. They can’t beat a Rachel Ray cooking show in terms of cultural impact, Ghost Rider movies notwithstanding.
You know when you get blog after blog after critical diatribe? Well, maybe after comics earn it by gaining an audience that’s more than, on a nice estimation, 400 thousand. Maybe after Geoff Johns is dead. But otherwise, people need to just suck it up and keep re-reading what Donald Phelps decides to write about it. As it is, proportion wise, the Berlatsky/O’Neill/Phelps/Jog contingent is doing a favor, and a service, to an reading public that seems to think that Naruto/The Ultimates/Doonesbury is what they should be spending all their time reading.
February 12th, 2008 at 10:41 pm
I haven’t read de Guzman’s piece other than the excerpts here. So I’m only addressing the comment re: Jeff Jensen’s Entertainment Weekly article. Nothing in Jensen’s article suggested that the 1980s superhero comics Jeff read as a pre-adolescent and teenager are the best comics have to offer–perhaps to his age then, but not now. EW is having some of their regular writers reminisce about the pop culture influences that lead them down their career paths to EW. No more, no less. That’s what Jensen wrote about.
DeGuzman’s comment: “I’m disappointed when I see “cultural critics” like Jeff Jensen, who recently wrote an essay in Entertainment Weekly about his love of comics, elevating the very genre that keeps comics from being taken seriously: superhero comics. (I know, I know, we don’t look to EW for high culture, but, really, was that the best they could give comics?)” is absurd. She set up Jensen and EW as stalking horses and trashed them for something neither of them said. Kind like Bill Clinton on Barack Obama, but I digress.
EW’s scant coverage of comics is typically capsule reviews of trade paperbacks that show up every 4-6 weeks in the books section. Most but not all of it addresses the alt-comic scene. Very rare to see a reference to a superhero comic anymore.
I love that this mini-debate is taking place at all. But let’s check our facts.
Of course someone will now probaly check the full text of Jensen’s piece and find a claim that “Everything I loved as a child is better than every comic published today.” But I doubt it.