A Year End Thing
I am aware that it’s already 2011. Fully aware.
More than anything else, I’ll probably remember 2010 as the year when I sort of almost actually didn’t become a writer for the New York Times:
I am aware that it’s already 2011. Fully aware.
More than anything else, I’ll probably remember 2010 as the year when I sort of almost actually didn’t become a writer for the New York Times:
There’s a lot that you can say about Marvel Comics in the 90′s that I’m not going to bother saying right now. What I do want to talk about is a tiny, tiny piece of the not-so-great line known as Marvel 2099. Quite simply, the first three issues of Ghost Rider made my damn head explode when I was 14 years old and it still holds up for me more than 15 years later.
Many people aren’t willing to admit it, but we all have that Frosted Mini Wheat aspect to our identities, the yin and the yang, Jekyll and Hyde and so forth. I’m actually pretty in touch with this part of myself. I have a sort of David vs. Wolkin thing going on. I think of my David side as the thoughtful, intelligent, critical thinker, and Wolkin? Well, he’s the guy who thinks Steven Seagal is really awesome, without a hint of irony.
The only thing they agree on is Keith David, which is the only thing that everyone agrees on.
Now that you have the context, it is with great excitement that I present to you a new feature entitled “Wolkin/CounterWolkin,” in which David and Wolkin will engage in dialogue with one another about the latest comics!!!
“Plastic Man is inspiration made form.” -Batman, JLA #88
I was working at this arts program in Southern California about three years ago when one of the participants asked me about my favorite superhero. I stared at her for about a minute or so and then my eyes lit up and I said Plastic Man. Then she stared at me for another minute and asked me who Plastic Man was. Then I told her that he is a man who is made of plastic and that he is the best. Then she asked me why he was the best and I told her that she was completely out of line questioning a member of the staff like that and I walked away.
It took me three years to figure out my answer to her question. Here it is:
Brian Wood and Becky Cloonan’s Demo is a series of one-off stories about young people who are basically “unique”. I don’t really have a better way of explaining it. Sometimes they have superhuman abilities but it’s certainly not a book about powers. If I can recall correctly, a lot of these stories are simply about the complexity of human relationships, especially the relationship that you have with yourself. Also, there was this one about a guy who eats people.
I don’t love all of these stories but the ones that I do love hit me in a very deep place. Demo #3, “Volume One Love Story” is one of those stories. It’s about a young woman named Marlo who can’t function in her day-to-day life without leaving herself thousands of reminders on Post-its. She leaves them everywhere, from the one on her ceiling that reminds her to get up to the one on her bus to work telling her that she’s making great time. It may not be a healthy behavior, but it seems to work for her, because the notes help her to productively manage the rest of her life.
She has OCD, a mild case according to her therapist. The notes are a manifestation of her anxieties, whatever they may be. It’s clear that this is a behavior that needs to change at some point, but Marlo says she doesn’t mind it that much. The way she’s presented, it’s hard to disagree with her. And yeah, sure it’s not such a big deal, but she also doesn’t seem to notice that the notes are basically the wall that she’s built between herself and the rest of the world.
And then this happens: