Good stuff for you this week, I promise.
When Fangirls Attack linked to this piece about the Silhouette in the Watchmen film. I’m partial to this piece because on my first read through Watchmen, Silhouette was the character that most intrigued me, even though she only warrants a passing mention. Sally Jupiter was easy to read, and both she and Laurie are characters worth re-reading and studying many times over, but I wanted to know more about this other woman.
Becky Cloonan has another Comic Attack up, this one with a mention of a game I have many fond and not-so-fond memories of from middle school. Am I dating myself? Do I care? Go. Read. Laugh.
Leigh Walton wants to know why Swamp Thing didn’t warrant as great a “remastering” as the Absolute Sandman or Absolute Death.
This piece at Jezebel isn’t comic-related, but does ask some questions that I ask myself when thinking about comics. The story is about Flannery O’Connor, a famed Southern writer who apparently was both judgmental and racist in her private life. The question, one that most avid readers of any stripe ask themselves, is, “Can you love the work and not the author?”
Since comics writers and artists are often far more accessible to their fans than long-dead authors of canonical Great Works of prose, this question seems to come into play fairly often. My answer to it is a definite “yes,” and I back it up by my wholehearted defense of the works of authors whose political beliefs are pretty diametrically opposed to my own. Sure, I love reading works where the authors believe what I believe, but I also like to challenge myself. My criteria for a good work is based on the work itself–is it complex, deep, with living, breathing characters who have agency? Does it make me ask tough questions? Or perhaps, is it just thrilling, addictive fun? Not everything has to be Les Miserables (says the girl who wrote a defense of Twilight).
(No, I promise nothing in this blog is an April Fool’s joke. I’m too tired for that.)