Amy Reads the Year (on August 03rd, 2007)

(Or, The Answer to Question Number Three)

Welcome, Gentle Reader, to the month-long one-year blogiversary of Arrogant Self-Reliance! This Humble Author has spanned two blog addresses, two personas, and finally—finally!—has settled Quite Comfortably into this Rather Cozy Space. Over the next month I will endeavor to bring you the highlights—and lowlights—of the past year in pop culture as I readdress some Issues I find Most Important.

Yes, Friends, you’re right: I want to talk about Women in Pop Culture. And today, thanks to the Glories that are When Fangirls Attack and Google Alerts, I’ve stumbled across Quite the Entrée into Said Discussion.

A few days ago on MotherJones.Com, Charlie Anders wrote this stunning article, “Supergirls Gone Wild: Gender Bias In Comics Shortchanges Superwomen,” which offers a broader discussion of Female Readership in the Comic Book Universe. This idea of Readership has challenged me the past few days, and I have summed up--or rather, expanded--the Woman (in comics) Question into Four Questions.

In the wake of Comic-Con and, even farther and even faster (gratitude, Ms. Bishop), an entire year of discussion about Female Comic Book Readership, the first question of “Do Women Read Comics?” has morphed into ever-spiraling and ever-complicated questions such as: “Why do women *still* read comics?” (question number two) and “If you don’t like it, Ladies, why not *make the comics*?” (question number three) and of course, “Why don’t Women understand that they are *just comics*?” (question number four).

Friends, I am fascinated by both the idea of Female Authorship and the idea of Female Readership, two issues that are Very Important to my Academic Work. I read women’s works, and I read about women reading women’s works. What is more popular culture than the idea of audience? Without audience, there can be no “popular,” and without people, there can be no “culture.” Therefore, by fault of my wacky and illogical logic, “Popular Culture” is, at its heart, dependent on both Authorship *and* Readership.

Fandom, meet my Career. Career, meet my Fandom.

To wit, in answer to Question Number Three in the Rowdy Roundup of Questions for Feisty Female Fans:

You cannot have a book without a reader.

Or,

Books need both Readers *and* Writers.

While I am Ever-Ready to write on A Title Of My Own (Big Barda or The Amazon Princess for me, DC!), and while I am Ever-Writing on A Comic Of My Own (Happy to send Treatments, DC!), these are those ever-illusive and often-proverbial “Pipe Dreams” exactly because they are dreams. Even further, they are dreams exactly because I am, First and Foremost, A Reader: by choice, by trade, by training, by profession, by paycheck, by understanding. Reading is What I Do, and if you may forgive a modest lack of modesty for the moment, I am Exceptional at my job.

But because I am Good at What I Do, I also become, while not Hulk-Smash upset at it, Rather Perturbed by the idea that if I don’t like something that is out there, then rather try and change it, I should just accept what is there and personally make what I want.

That argument, to me, at least, feels Very Similar to the following analogy:

Mr. Reads and I go out to dinner. We both order steak, medium, loaded baked potatoes, smothered onions, and steamed asparagus. Mr. Reads enjoys every bit of his meal except for the asparagus, which he finds to be a bit too raw, and his steak, which is cooked at medium-rare instead of medium. He expresses his concerns, and the restaurant brings him new asparagus, cooks his steak to his liking, and, for his troubles, comps his dessert. I, too, find the asparagus a bit too raw, and find my steak to be medium-rare instead of medium. When I bring my concerns to the restaurant, not only do they not fix my meal, they pack it in a take-home container and tell me to “cook it to my liking” once I get home. As Mr. Reads and I ordered and paid the same amount for *the same meal* we should receive *the same service* for our *same complaints* no?

While this may seem A Bit Over The Top (and very conducive to hunger!), let us take it even further. If Mr. Reads—who is, I Assure You, Gentle Reader, the Kindest and Gentlest of Men—were to offer his complaint to the management with a loud, booming voice, he would be considered an aggressive and masculine specimen. Perhaps he would be considered a Steak Aficionado, even. A Steak Guru, if you will. He certainly knows his steaks, if he can become So Worked Up over an improperly cooked piece of meat! Whereas if I—and I Assure You, Gentle Reader, that despite my Well-Mannered and Gentle Demeanor, I am the More Likely Member of the Reads Family to offer a loud, booming voice—were to do the same, I would be escorted from the premises for my hysterical and inappropriate behavior.

Still don’t believe This Humble Author? Then one final extreme:

Mr. Reads and I, both unhappy with our meals despite dessert compensation for Mr. Reads (which This Humble Author did not get to enjoy since she was Tossed Out of Said Restaurant on her posterior), come home and write negative reviews of Said Restaurant on the Internet. Mr. Reads finds a commiserating audience who also has had Similar Problems with Said Restaurant. I, too, find a core of like-minded individuals who sympathize with my Tossing. Then my review is spammed by trolls begging to know Who The @#$! Do I Think I Am for daring to review negatively Their Favorite Restaurant. My review is plastered on site after site as a Bad Example of Restaurant Reviewing, and is held up as The Classic Example of How Women Take Everything To Extremes. While I was willing to give Said Restaurant another chance, I no longer want to take the chance of sitting Anywhere Near these fellow restaurant-attendees.

Extreme, I know. Perhaps silly, and certainly flawed. But Gentle Reader, this is *what it feels like* when I am told that if I don’t like the way comic books are being written, then I should just write my own. Rather than fight against change, these naysayers instead believe that a small ghettoized space is appropriate for those who feel as if comics do not portray women, ethnic minorities, homosexuals, differently abled, and others enough.

It’s not enough. It’s never enough.

I’ve heard them all already, the arguments, the beliefs, the statistics, the decrying that There Are More Male Comic Book Readers than Female Comic Book Readers, or, There Are More Male Comic Book Writers than Female Comic Book Writers, or, Superheroes are Symbolic so it Doesn’t Matter if 90% of them are white males.

To which I say, There *should* be more Women writing Comic Books, and there *should* be more Diversity in Comic Books, because if there is, there is a Very Strong Probability that there will be More Readers.

I don’t believe that Only Women can write great female characters, nor do I believe that all titles with a woman as lead—Birds of Prey, Wonder Woman, Catwoman—should go to Women Writers. This is a further example of the ghettoizing of which I spoke earlier. Nor do I believe that Men cannot write Great Female Characters. I point to Mr. Rucka, Mr. Whedon, Mr. McKeever, Mr. Vaughan, and many, many others to belie this misconception. So, too, do we need more writers such as These Great Ones. But I do believe that the system, as a whole, is flawed. That the system is comfortable. Also, as I am Ever The Optimist, I believe the system can expand.

Further representation, Gentle Reader. Further discussion. Open marketplace of ideas and emotions and critiques.

Friends, I love Comic Books. I love Superhero Comic Books. I love the symbolism, the idea that the Outsider—the Alien, the Orphan, the Goddess-Made-Of-Clay, the Ultimate Other—is the person to point out injustice. I love that Cape Books make me believe in something Greater, something Mythic, something Colossal. I love that Superheroes are Larger Than Life, and that they make the characters, and the readers, aspire to Great Things. I love the gaudiness of the costumes, the extremes of the plots, the fact that Outlandishness and Utter Fantasy often come to stand for Gritty Reality and are Archetypal Discussions relevant to every time period, even Ours. I love that Superman has three weaknesses and Wonder Woman has none.

I love Batman because he is dark and challenging and not very friendly at all. I love Superman because Kal-El/Superman is the mask and Clark Kent is The Real Deal. I love Hellboy because he makes mistakes, over and over again, and still fights the good fight. I love Daredevil because sometimes, his Catholicism conflicts with his desire for vengeance, and sometimes, it supplements it. I can identify with these male characters because I see parts of them in me.

But.

But, these characters have had the benefits of More Good Writing than Not. They haven’t been tossed aside as lightly as some of their Sisters have. They haven’t been reduced to the Representation of Their Bodies as some of their Sisters have. That is not to say that they don’t have Bodies Issues Of Their Own. Of course they do. These are Comic Books. Everything is Larger Than Life, a Bit More Fantastical.

I *want* that Fantastical. I crave it. That’s why I am, First and Foremost, A Reader Of Comics. But Fantastical is *not* the same as Stereotypical. Fantastical is *not* the same as Ridiculous Representation.

And therein lies the difference.

The Briefest of Updates in the Briefest of Posts

This is Not A Real Post, Gentle Reader, nor does it contain Much Of Value. Rather, I thought I would drop my Constant Readers a quick note to say that yes, I am Still Alive, I have completed the Grade-a-thon (of doom!), I finally (!) have read all of The Deathly Hallows (!!!), and I nearly--just nearly, Friends!--split my sides at The Simpsons Movie.

Further, Mr. Reads and I just received A Large Shipment of graphic novels from the Amazon.com Fairy, and The Family Reads is looking forward to settling down with some non-school (and alas, non-Potter) reading. On the docket is Lex Luthor: Man of Steel, Ms. Marvel: Best of the Best, Seven Soldiers of Victory Vol. 1, and Ultra: Seven Days. Also nabbed from the library: Thursday Next: First Among Sequels (Jasper Fforde), The Sons of Heaven (Kage Baker), and In Dublin's Fair City (Rhys Bowen).

All in all, a perfectly wonderful way to begin what is to be, in truth, my only week of Summer Vacation. Having taught both summer sessions and having made Great Strides on Dissertation Progress has, in truth, Exhausted This Humble Author. But before I retire for the evening, I do have two questions for you, Friends, if I may Be So Bold.

Question #1:
As Arrogant Self-Reliance's One Year Blogiversary is on August 7th (from its Initial Incarnation at the Old Address), I would like to Do Something Special to Commemorate the Occasion. Any suggestions for SuperSpecial Blog Posts?

Question #2:
What does it mean that I keep accidentally singing the line from the Spider-Man theme song as "Fashion is his reward" rather than "Action is his reward"? Does it mean that my two worlds--Academic Fashion Fandom and Pop Culture Comic Book Fandom--are colliding? Or uniting?

Super Dads: A Comic Book Father’s Day Retrospective

Happy Father’s Day, Gentle Reader! We Reads are looking at a rather dreary day, weather-wise, which means a rather pleasant day, Reads-Wise! We so very much enjoy rainy days, gray skies, and anything else that makes the Southern Sun go away for a few hours, at least. Of course, our barbequing plans have moved from outdoors to in, but if that means we can look and go outside without squinting or melting, we’ll take that any day!

I’ve already spoken with Daddy Reads this morning, and wished him well indeed on such a day. Daddy Reads is one of those peculiar breed of somewhat conservative men: he is Father to a Daughter, and therefore has Different Ideas about what Women can or cannot do. That is to say, This Humble Author was brought up to believe she *could* be that horseback-riding, novel-writing, rich-and-famous, U.S. President Princess of the World she so wanted to be at age 5 (and age 10, and with a few tweaks, age 30). Daddy Reads encouraged things like ambitions, and dreams, and when it was important, and not about a pony, never told me “no.”

Of course, this makes me think of other Fathers, of Fictional Fathers, and that inevitably leads to Comic Book Fathers. And so, I offer you My Ten Favorite Comic Book Fathers. Please, Friends, add to this list! Let’s see it grow.

Ten Favorite Comic Book Fathers

1) Wally West/The Flash – I would scream it from the mountaintops, if I could, but Wally West epitomizes Good Comics Fatherhood to me. His love of the twins, his happiness when Linda latches on, twins in hand, before they’re all sucked into the Speed Force has never ceased to Make Me Smile. And, if the rumor-mill is correct, Gentle Reader, I may just see my Beloved Flash Again!

2) Bruce Wayne/Batman – This Humble Author is Quite the Activist regarding the promotion of adopted and surrogate parents and children, and I think One Year Later, Bruce Wayne is demonstrating that he is A Strong Hero, A Strong Father, and more importantly, A Loving Father.

3) Bigby/The Big Bad Wolf – Although he disappeared from Fable-Town for reasons still rather shaky for my liking, he has proved, without a doubt, that he is a dedicated, loving father to his multitude of children. And, well, he’s the Big Bad Wolf. Who better to protect children (if not gobble them up, for cuteness)?

4) Luke Cage/Power Man – What image more defined the human face of Marvel’s Civil War than Luke Cage protecting his wife and daughter as they made their escape to Canada? The size of Luke, his raw power, in direct contrast with his tiny, newborn daughter, was nothing short of heartbreaking. Further, his defense of his family and others who refused to register proved that registration was and still is an immoral, unconstitutional thing.

5) Jonathan Kent/Superman’s Dad – Not a Super Hero of the Flights and Tights variety, certainly, but he is the Strength behind the Flights and Tights, so to speak. And for those of us Coming of Age before Smallville, we knew Jonathan Kent a little less earnest but just as adored, and we wanted him to take care of us, too.

6) Alan Scott/The Green Lantern/The White King – I admit that I am not as familiar with the Green Lantern Corps as some of my Sister Bloggers, and it’s a failing I admit freely. When asked to name the first Green Lantern, even, I was sometimes—just sometimes, Gentle Reader!—hard pressed to remember Alan Scott. But I am trying to rectify this situation, because what I know of Alan Scott, as a Hero, as a Father to Jade and Obsidian, the latter I adored in Manhunter, I Just Love. So he deserves, without question, to Make the List.

7) Benjamin Parker/Spider-Man’s Uncle – Here we have a legal guardian in the role of Father, once again continuing this running theme of alternative fatherhood. Uncle Ben helped define Peter Parker not only as Super Hero Spider-Man, but also as Good Man Peter Parker. Uncle Ben’s simple philosophy “With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility” is indeed a phrase to live by, and his death, while tragic, was the impetus necessary to push Peter Parker into his Spider-Man persona.

8) Alfred Pennyworth/Batman’s Butler – Again, I would like to argue for alternative definitions of “Father” as Alfred has kept My Beloved Batman sane, time and time again. More than a mere butler, yes, of this we’re all familiar, but further, he marks the compass of Right and Wrong for Bruce Wayne. He loves Bruce Wayne, unconditionally.

And finally, two villains that, while not my favorites, deserve to be on a list about Comic Book Fathers.

9) Magneto – Father of the Brotherhood of Mutants, of Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver and Polaris, he tries to save Mutants from the world, or the world from mutants, or drive everyone away, or just blow everything up, or any of the thousands of plots Magneto has hatched. But he is dedicated, to his cause, to himself, sometimes to his family, but not *all* the time, and… well, if you read any X-Men line, you know exactly what I mean.

10) Captain Boomerang – A bad guy that’s not always a bad guy, or he is, but sometimes he at least Somewhat Sane, and then, finding himself obsolete, he reaches out to his son. More importantly, his death, like Uncle Ben’s for Spider-Man, urge the second Captain Boomerang to action, and then, ultimately, to reformation.

Amy Reads the Week (of June 1st, 2007)

It’s been a Rather Exhausting Week, Gentle Reader, as summer has come to The South, and with it, Summer School. Not that I dislike teaching summer school; far from it. It’s just a daily occurrence, with Really Big Novels, in the Heat, and in a very short expanse of time.

Since with Great Novels comes Great (teaching) Responsibility, I’ve been rather neglectful of my pop culture. Television in the Reads Household this week has been of the Food Network persuasion, and honestly, it’s about all I can bring myself to focus on. This is so much the case that when Mr. Reads asked me if I had read the latest issue of Wonder Woman, I had to, quite honestly, tell him no.

But what this week *has* brought is Great Buying Responsibility, in that I placate Mr. Reads’ addiction to the Marvel Legends line, as he placates This Humble Author’s addiction to All Things Amazonian, All The Time. That is to say, while at Wal-Mart today, I found the She-Hulk, Xorn, and Yellowjacket Mr. Reads has been waiting for, and then, at another store just an hour ago, we found Quicksilver and the Marvel Select Cloak and Dagger.

Mr. Reads is a firm believer in the Posing Power of the action figure, while I, I am rather hesitant to say, am quite an In-The-Box kind of girl. There are few, if any, of my Fun Toys out of their original packaging, and those only happen on the rarest of occasions.

But seeing Mr. Reads’ pure delight over finding these hard-to-get items in our rather small college town made me think of the (hard-to-get) Items of My Own: my Hush Catwoman, my Wasp red variant, my Marvel Select Emma Frost. I remembered back to my months-long search for the Red Son Wonder Woman which I found (finally!) on clearance in a mall a state away. Thankfully I hadn’t traveled a state away just to find said action figure. Rather, the find was fortuitous, and gratefully acknowledged.

There are other things, too, lost in the void of distance, age, and time. My Wonder Woman underoos, of course, as well as my Wonder Woman costume, immortalized in scratchy photographs of a slightly chubby, nearsighted child with too much hair and a look of wonder and hope that has gone the way of said costume. My Wonder Woman lunchbox, my Star Wars lunchbox, my Princess Leia Halloween outfit, my Jem and the Holograms dolls, my She-Ra action figures. Once in my possession, now gone, some twenty years since, but still precious for the memories they left behind.

What is it about the physicality of fandom, Gentle Reader? Why does the Reads Household purchase, still, action figures and Barbies and statues (oh my!)? I don’t think it is a reckless clinging to youth, desperate in its grasp, clutching a bit too fervently. Rather, I think, in no small part, that it is insurance for the future, the decision that despite this or that problem, there is still something solid, something there, something small and plastic and fun that Makes Us Happy.

Or, as I asked Mr. Reads once, “what to do if the future children get hold of variant Sentry?”

To which Mr. Reads said, “!!!”

(Do not worry for future Baby Readses, Gentle Reader! Pup Reads has destroyed, so far, Venom, Namor, Maestro’s crown, and Juggernaut’s helmet, and she still receives love, food, and shelter on a daily basis.)

We collect, and collect, and protect against damage, but we cannot guarantee protection. We cannot guarantee anything. Why, then, collect these things? Why, then, display these objects of fandom, these Physical Representatives of our interests, for all the world—or just ourselves—to see? Because of the memory? Because even This Humble Author remembers with fondness, some 25 years after the fact, wearing a Wonder Woman costume under her school uniform, and feeling for all the world like Diana Prince?

So we buy these things to remind ourselves, or to remind others?

It’s rather late, Friends, and I’ve a long day stretched in front of me for tomorrow, so I leave you not with possible answers but instead with questions. What do we make of our fandom collecting? How do we, as fans, comprehend those objects that mark us as such?

And where can one Such As Myself find a decently priced Hush Catwoman action figure anyhow?

Amy Reads the Week (of April 27th, 2007)

Today, Gentle Reader, found me Quite Aware of several of my popular cultures. I went to The Coffee Conglomerate Giant to get some work done, and I carried said work in my Buffy the Vampire Slayer tote bag. Then I wandered over to The Corporate Toy Store to search for the new series 2 of the Marvel Legends figures for Mr. Reads. While searching through various Wasps and Emma Frosts and Planet Hulks (oh my!), a Nice Young Gentleman asked me if I needed some help.

“No, thanks,” I said. “Just looking.” I wasn’t intentionally terse, but I was on my cell phone with Mr. Reads at the time, trying to determine which figures, specifically, he was searching for.

“By the way, your shirt rocks,” Nice Young Gentleman said, and gestured at my “Justice League of America” t-shirt. “They won’t let me wear my fun shirts to work.”

“I can’t wear mine to work, either,” I said. “So I wear them when I can.”

Mr. Reads, still on the line, was laughing, as we have often commented on How Incredibly Cool and Friendly the Nice Young Gentlemen and Ladies who work at Said Toy Store are. “Cool” for Mr. Reads and This Humble Author means, of course, that Said Cool Person is Pop-Culturally Aware of the things that We, Ourselves, are aware of. That is to say, Mr. Reads and I often define “Coolness” by one’s competence and knowledge in Those Areas of Fandom That We Love.

This Fandom Moment was rather welcome today, as I spent the majority of my morning seething over something I read on The Internet. In fact, I seethed so much, Gentle Reader, that I delayed, yes, *delayed* writing this column because I knew, ultimately, that it would disintegrate into a rant. And while I appreciate The Occasional Rant on The Internet (and have Indulged Myself a time or two), I remember, above all else, the lesson I learned upon first experiencing The Internet At Large, some ten, twelve years back:

Do Not Feed The Trolls.

So instead of responding, or writing this column, I seethed quietly. I mentally composed tomes of replies, and I persisted in these useless responses until I remembered to marvel at my Buffy bag, I had the opportunity to share in the delight of the JLA with a Fellow Fan, I popped in a CD and continued to (talent) crush on Nathan Willett of Cold War Kids Fame. Until I remembered that Pop Culture is about Us, All of Us, We Few, We Happy Few, We Band of Fandoms.

These things, these fandom objects, seemingly, then, carry a mystical, portentous weight. My Buffy tote bag, my JLA t-shirt, my Wonder Woman day planner, the Reads Family Spider-Man travel mug, even, define me (and in the latter’s case, Mr. Reads) because they were objects chosen, specifically, by me, for me. They were objects purchased with the intent for public display. Unlike some other items in our fandom—my signed copy of Connie Willis’s Bellwether, say, or my Boba Fett pez dispenser—that stay within the home, these other objects are almost talismanic. They are proclamations of the things we adore. The things that make us happy.

But further, they are, above all else, invitations for communication.

I invite you, Gentle Reader, to communicate with me. What are some of your talismanic fandom objects? Tell us about your Batman messenger bags, your Superman ties, your X-Men t-shirts. What’s your favorite item?