Unknown Pleasures: Stan Martin’s Rapid Fire

a page from Rapid Fire

I’ve been to my parent’s place this weekend, to celebrate the birthdays of my sister and her partner who live nearby. As always a home visit is also an excuse to rescue some more of the vast collection of comics I’ve left behind there in storage. Amongst the gems I dragged away this time was an A4 sized, self published (?) comic called Rapid Fire: Terrible Sunrise Part Two, written and drawn by one Stan Martin. I known nothing more about it or its creator than what I could gleam from the comic itself when I bought it at Spacecaption 1999, a small Oxford comics convention. That’s one of the joys of going to cons, finding interesting looking small press or self published (“amateur”) comics done by people with no expectation — or even desire– to become professional cartoonists, but who draw comics just for the love of them. In this case I was drawn in by the subject matter, a battle set in the first days of World War I, as the forces of the British Expeditionary Force first come into contact with the vanguard of the German advance. Martin’s artwork, realistic, clear and with a hint of Ligne Claire in it also helped.

Rapid Fire depicts the battle between the North West Rifle regiment on the 23rd of August 1914 alongst the Mons-Condé Canal in Belgium and the advancing German forces of von Kluck. This wasn’t trench warfare, the front was still dynamic as the Germans were still pressing towards the Channel, trying to move around the defending English and French forces, who in turn were slowly retreating out of Belgium back into France. This was the last stand of the old professional British Army that had fought the colonial wars of the 19th century, opposing a modern conscription army much much bigger than them. As Martin puts it on the back cover:

The Kaiser’s army, of almost three million ferociously disciplined men, floods the farmlands of northern France. They attempt to crush the French before their Russian allies can mobilise to threaten Germany’s eastern border. The British Expeditionary Force barely figure in the Prussian plan to dominate the continent; two hundred and fifty thousand strong they are outnumbered more than five to one. The British soldier, however, is the most highly trained, best equipped in the world. In sixty seconds, armed with his short magazine bolt action Lee Engfield rifle he is capable of firing up to fifteen well-aimed rounds.

This is known as “the mad minute”.

Which also tells you that this is a war story, not an antiwar story, as we’re mostly used to when the First World War is brought up in fiction. Martin neither moralises about war nor glorifies the battle he depicts. His treatment is almost antiseptical, no sensationalist displays of gore, just men falling down with a “fup” or “thup”. This might seem old fashioned or a bit suspect, but it works well here; Martin trust his readers to know that war isn’t nice, he doesn’t have to rub it in nor has he any desire to. It’s an intellectualised view of battle, somewhat distancing you from it. The artwork helps with this. Even in action his figures look posed and stiff. The clean lines too help keep you detached from the story. He has a good eye for detail, but doesn’t go overboard with it.

I’ve never found another comic by Martin, nor much about him on the internet, save for one review of Rapid Fire, which coincidently uses the same page I scanned as well as an illustration. I’ve no idea if he has done more comics than this, but I hope so.

Defending the indefensible: the DC reboot

cover to Mr Terrific 1

On Twitter Hedi McDonald asked for essays to defend the
DC reboot in 400 words or less. Below is my attempt.

There’s an old joke about mules: before you can get them to do anything, you need to hit them with a 2 by 4, just to get their attention. That’s what the DC reboot is. In scale and audacity it’s the culmination of everything Dan Didio has been working on since he became Executive Editor. Having spent the past decade revamping and refurbishing its superhero line title by title, rebooting it completely is the logical end result of this ongoing process.

It is no surprise that fan reaction has been negative. After years of tinkering with continuity, soft and hard reboots anything that looks like more of the same is disliked. This is a mistake, as this reboot is not the start of more tinkering, but the end of it. By relaunching everything, DC has put a line under the endless succession of Crisises. Having everything restart with #1 means you can stop worrying about what came before.

What’s very clever is the way DC has tied the reboot in to its move to same day digital publishing. The need to get serious about digital publishing has been pressing for years, but it needed to be done without damaging the direct market. Comics retailers have been scared to death of seeing its sales cannibalized by the internet. The way DC has found of squaring this circle is through this reboot. New number ones always have a sales boost, providing at least a short term benefit to comics retailers. They also make it easier for new readers to jump aboard and the publicity the reboot is getting outside of the comics orientated media means more people now know about DC’s digital publishing efforts as well. DC needs to find new readers if it wants to remain viable and the only way to do this is to look outside the existing comics buying audience.

Piracy has made clear there is an online readership for comics, as long as they are easy to get. DC’s challenge is to do just that. If they succeed and can get their comics in front of potential readers than this reboot may just be the best thing that has happened to comics in years. It all depends on how well DC can sell its plans to retailers, fans and new readers alike. They got our attention, now they need to do something with it.

N.B. I don’t necessarily believe this.

“ten or twelve Roger Dean album covers with some sparse lettering across them”

I’ve been on an old comics kick lately – lots of bronze age stuff, some 80s and 90s books as well, maybe some stuff I’ll write about, maybe not – and it never ceases to amaze me how long it takes to read any average issue from 1985 or 1995 compared to almost any example from 2011. The change is easily explained: after Quesada and Jemas took over Marvel in 2000, they did away with thought balloons and third-person narrative captions. Not all at once, but slowly and more-or-less permanently. I still don’t know, and really have not seen a single compelling reason, why these changes were pushed through so thoroughly, but the more I think about it the more I am fully convinced that this shift was undeniably deleterious to the long-term quality of the line. It’s a question of economy: captions and thought balloons were an extremely efficient way of communicating a large amount of information in a surprisingly concise package. Back in 2000 $2.25 for 15 minutes of reading was a good deal. No amount of inflation will make $3 or $4 for 5 minutes a good deal for anyone.

In the course of reviewing Mighty Thor #2, Tim O’Neil says a lot of what I tried to say here, but does it better.

The audience knows what it doesn’t want

Robot 6 puts together a couple of quotes of various comics professionals bitching about the superhero audience and its expectations. Mark Waid kicks off:

The audience doesn’t know what it wants. If it knew what it wanted, it wouldn’t be an audience. It just knows that it wants to be entertained somehow, and that’s a perfectly reasonable expectation. I wish we were better at it. The 50,000 hardcore fans of periodical print comics that we have left, the ones we haven’t and can’t drive away, seem to indicate with their buying patterns that they’re interested only in nostalgia, which is terrifying. And I understand why publishers cater to that; they’re kinda forced to, given that the print distribution system is targeted SOLELY TO THOSE 50,000.”

There’s the rub. Waid may or may not be right that the audience doesn’t know what it wants (though it’s certainly vocal about its preferences), but it does know what it doesn’t want. And what it has wanted less and less over the last two decades is superhero comics. Print runs that in the late eighties were reasons for cancellation were bestsellers in the mid nineties and by now are only reached by the top two-three titles in any given month, if at all. Waid talks about the fans “we haven’t and can’t drive away” and this is more true than he may like, because fuck me, DC and Marvel and their imitators have done their best to drive fans away. Pointless crossovers, cover gimmicks, an endless milking of hot characters, the deconstruction/reconstruction of Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, Spider-Man, the sheer disdain for readers shown by letting issues be late for months or years, the sheer shit that has been published over the years, no wonder readership has been dropping steadily.

What has saved the superhero publishers, at least for some time, is the sheer loyalty fans have shown towards the characters. It’s the same sort of loyalty that people show towards their favourite sport teams; no Cubs fan will stop watching them just because they lose every game, just like a hardcore Spider-Man fan will stop reading his comics just because Marvel made him into a clone, or decided they didn’t like him married. But at the same time a team that always loses and doesn’t offer its fans anything worth being a fan for will not get many new ones, just like the long runs of mediocre Spider-Man titles will not have gotten him many new readers. They’d rather watch the movies or the cartoons, much cheaper too.

It always annoys me a bit when writers talk disdainfully about their readers, when somebody like Johanna Draper Carlson says “When did fans get the idea that they could dictate content to creators? If you aren’t enjoying something, stop buying/watching/reading it.” As if the only role fans get to play is to consume and cannot have any say about what happens to their favourite characters. Because certainly with superhero comics the readers are there for the characters, to see Spider-Man or Green Lantern in action, without necessarily caring or knowing the creators working on them. Fans have just as much if not more invested in their comics as the creators have. They deserve more than just the privilege of plunking down their three or four dollars each issue.

Depicting Israeli politicians in political cartoons

Arab spring cartoon by John Cole

Tom Spurgeon asks:

speaking of something that will be interpreted as mean but I swear I don’t mean it that way, is it weird to anyone else that pinning a Jewish star to the clothing of Israel politicians is an accepted visual signifier? I’ve seen it a bunch this week, and it strikes me as sort of odd.

Is it really that odd? It is after all part of the Israeli flag and hence just as unambigious an visual shortcut as putting a stars and stripes pin on an American politician would be. The cartoon Tom linked to is shown above and it’s not clear which particular Israeli politician is intended (if any) to be allergic to the Arab Spring, but thanks to the Israeli flag pin the joke/trenchant political commentary isn’t lost. For cartoonists not particularly good at caricature or those operating for an audience unlikely to be familiar with what any Israeli politician looks like such a shortcut is essential.

It may be mildly strange or distasteful for those who’d sooner see a star of David in it than an Israeli flag, but considering the alternatives of depicting Israeli politicians, where even well intentioned cartoonists can run into anti-semitic stereotypes quickly, it is a fairly neutral way of showing their Israeliness. Lazy and unoriginal yes, but at least it’s inoffensive, which seems to be the best you can hope for with editorial cartoons. Where it does get squicky is when a cartoonist uses it on a non-Israeli politician, to show they’ve been bought by the Israel lobby. That does reek a bit too much of the protocols of the elders of Zion.