On Webcomics: Still Up for Grabs!

Last week, Japanese publisher Kadokawa announced that it will be rolling out a new service for releasing comics online. You can read more of the details here but the upshot is that they will post the latest chapters of many of their manga online for free in multiple languages. With a two week delay from the print edition. And only for a limited time. After this limited time, the chapters will be archived and available, but only for a fee.

The article is actually worded a little awkwardly, so actually many of the specifics aren't addressed very well. It's a little unclear exactly what the update schedule is, for example. And the author seems pretty vague as to whether it's an app or just a website or both. What kind of free structure isn't mentioned. What the actual file format/s is/are aren't mentioned. I've actually looked up a couple different sites that reported on this, and they don't seem any more knowledgeable on those fronts. The only thing anybody really seems to have concrete knowledge of is that it's launching on March 22.

That said, I don't know that I've seen this business model in webcomics before. Where the current story is available for free, but "back issues" will be at a cost. The one article claims there's a hope that it will help stem piracy, but I find this hard to see as effective since, even in that same article, the author notes that translated scanlations are already being posted online several days before print editions hit the stands. Also, if this new ComicWalker service/app is providing images though your phone/tablet/computer, how would they prevent people from screen-grabbing each page as it's posted and freely torrenting them after the next chapter is posted?

Don't get me wrong, I hope this is successful, but I'm skeptical. Although, admittedly, this is due partly to how vague they're being with the details. I would just think that they'd announce more details this close to launch if they were really confident in their product.

In any event, what I find interesting here is that we've got another company trying (what I think is) a new business model for putting comics on the web. What's interesting about that is that, while I think that we've pretty well established that certain business models are or aren't effective, there are still other models out there that haven't really been put to the test yet. In terms of the typical industry lifecycle, we're still only in Stage II where "product innovation declines, process innovation begins and a 'dominant design' will arrive." But we haven't gotten yet to Stage II where "economies of scale are achieved, forcing smaller players to be acquired or exit altogether. Barriers to entry become very high, as large-scale consolidation occurs."

I think it's a healthy reminder for webcomickers particularly as they look to successful role models and try to emulate them. While there's nothing wrong with that, and there's much to be learned in that manner, it's not necessarily the end-all-be-all solution to webcomics either. There could well be other methods out there that either haven't been discovered or didn't have quite the right mix of talent/timing to succeed. By all means, listen to what the webcomic veterans have to say, but they're still really only experts in what they themselves have done, and may not be expert in what you can do!

On Fandom: Passing the (Human) Torch

I know of several people who have been deliberately thinning out their comic book collections over the past six months or so. The two most recent are Mike Thompson and my dad. Both have said that they basically have a bunch of old books that they haven't looked at in years and are unlikely to look at again, so they're just sitting in the basement taking up space. Why continue holding on to them?

This is actually my father's second comic purge. He gave me most of his long boxes of comics back in 2008 when he realized he'd been retired for five and still hadn't re-read any of them. When I talked to him on the phone this weekend, he's decided the same about his graphic novels. Both times, he's opted to pass them along to me, believing that I would get something out of them. (While I haven't read each and every pamphlet comic he gave me yet, I've read and referenced many of them. So, yes, I did get something out of them!)

To some degree or another, this type of thing has gone on as long as there've been comics. Someone who collects them for years and decides to get rid of them. Sometimes they get passed on, sometimes they're sold off (as Thompson is doing). Sometimes it's a combination.

But does this collection purging mean they're ending their life in fandom?

In more cases than not, I suspect no. I think there are two types of people who get rid of their books en masse like this. First is the person who still actively enjoys comics but simply needs to clear out some physical space and/or needs a short-term cash influx. Essentially, practical life-getting-in-the-way-of-a-hobby concerns. Second are people who actually lost interest in the medium some time before and just didn't get rid of their comics, either because they simply forgot they still had them (stored in the basement or attic somewhere) or they didn't want to let go of the time/money they'd invested in the hobby.

I think this last group is worth exploring. The people who don't actively read/collect comics but refuse to get rid of their collection out of some sense that doing so would invalidate it. Or, more precisely, that it would invalidate the emotional investiment they put into it. They put their comics away in storage, come across them every few years, and say to themselves that they ought to get rid of them. But they don't because... well... They might trot out some excuses for a significant other, but they're flimsy at best.

This approach strikes me as something akin to nostalgia. Even if they don't read the comics any more, they like what they represented. They liked the fun or excitement or adventure, and the great times they had alongside Spider-Man or Scrooge McDuck or whomever. And getting rid of those comics might mean they're rejecting those great times.

What seems to be lost on them is that the comics are not the great times themselves. They're just pulped wood that have been ascribed some emotional value. The great times aren't inherent in the comics; they're in the reader's head. Getting rid of them has no impact on what went on in the reader's head when s/he was first reading them. There's nothing to invalidate, unless the reader her/himself wants to invalidate those feelings or memories.

I hold on to my comics because I continue to research and write about them. There are many that I haven't read in years, I'm sure, but I never know when I might need/want to reference them. I wrote a piece just this past weekend where I pulled out a dozen books I'm sure I haven't looked at in ten or fifteen years, some of those I even forgot I had! But they were relevant to the piece I was working on and their quick and easy access made the writing go by very smoothly.

But if you're not doing that -- if you're holding on to them because you're afraid of what it means to get rid of them, it might be time to truely look at why you're keeping them around. I highly doubt anyone reading this has that concern (if you're reading this, you're likely still pretty engaged in your hobby) but it's something to keep an eye out for in others.

And, hey, if you're able to show those people what they're doing, you might get some free comics out of it to boot!

On -isms: Normcoring the Superhero Set

The latest trend-that-goes-against-trends in fashion apparently is normcore. It's got much the same attitude of self-awareness that was found in hipsterism, but takes it in another direction. Rather than trying to make terminally un-hip outfits look hip by wearing them ironically, the idea behind normcore is to make terminally un-hip outfits that make a statement against corporitization. That is, normcore is about trying to deliberately look as bland and unassuming as possible. Trying to not stand out in a crowd in any visible way. And this is evidently done to make the statement that you're not a mindless slave to fashion. (Although, oddly, this doesn't seem to preclude them from wearing mass-produced clothing with logos readily visible.)

I've caught a few references to normcore recently, and only decided to read up on it yesterday. I started with this piece by Cat Smith who flatly titled her article "Normcore is Bullsh*t." (Her asterisk, not mine.) She called it bullshit because she needs to wear leg braces and use a wheelchair. If she were to try wearing something in the way of normcore, she'd just look like she had too much trouble getting into or even just getting something fashionable.

That's because normcore starts by assuming there's a "normal" in the first place. That there's a default setting for people, and they can choose how they're perceived by changing their clothes, or hairstyle, or whatever. They can stand out, or not, by deliberately deciding what uniform they want to wear. But that isn't the case. Trayvon Martin was wearing about the most unassuming clothes he could have on, and he was still gunned down by George Zimmerman because his skin color overrode any other messages of style that his clothes or hair might project. (Martin is hardly the only example, either; he just so happens to be one of the most well-known right now.)

In comics, it can lead to panels like this one from Marvel Super Heroes Secret Wars #8...

James Rhodes had taken over as Iron Man during Tony Stark's battle with alcholism, but that was hardly public knowledge. Those who knew him knew that someone other than Stark was wearing the armor, but that was about it. So when Rhodes asks Mr. Fantastic to repair the armor, we are led to the above scene. The panel occurs almost without context; before it the X-Men are monitoring Galactus, and immediately after this panel Thor and Hulk point Spider-Man to the room where he gets his infamous black costume. Given that a throwaway line of dialogue about Reed repairing the armor could get dropped in anywhere in the story, that leaves the only reason for this panel to occur is for Rhodes to ask, "Were you surprised there was a Black man under the metal?"

It's a valid question because, to this day, Caucasian is the default setting for superheroes. Although I doubt very few people would openly admit to it, I suspect a lot of readers viewed (and probably still view) Rhodes as the "Black Iron Man." Just as John Stewart might be seen as the "Black Green Lantern." Despite the fact that their clothes confer as very specific role -- not just "superhero" but a very specific type of superhero -- they're still thought of in terms of their race. They don't have the privledge of being able to step outside their skin and be seen as simply Iron Man or Green Lantern.

And you want proof that that is learned racial prejudice? How about those kids whose first and primary relation to any Green Lantern was the Stewart version from the Justice League cartoon? He was simply "Green Lantern." It's only people who can't identify him as a unique character that put him in contrast to others. He's not "John Stewart Green Lantern" but "Black Green Lantern." Why single Stewart out like that unless you can't identify him as his own being?

The point of a superhero costume is to stand out from most people. Because, let's face it, if you're shooting lasers out of your eyes, no amount of normcoring is going to making you look inconspicuous, so you might as well play up your individuality. But at the same time, the superhero costume is something that helps a character blend in with other superheroes; Iron Man doesn't look at all out of place in an Avengers lineup. But with that being said, the minority characters that we don't see very often in comics continue to stand out regardless of what they're wearing. We're going to immediately spot Stewart in a Justice League meeting because he's the only Black person there. Our culture has taught us that James Rhodes and John Stewart are outside the norm and we should treat them as such.

But maybe we should start focusing on what they choose to say about themselves, rather than what we choose to say about them.

Links

• Mike Patrick wrote a syndicated piece covering the history of Charlton Comics, and the recent revival via Charlton Arrow. Here's the Miami Herald version.
• Nolan Feeney writes a piece for The Atlantic about the various comics done by the US Federal Reserve dating back to the 1950s. He even interviewed Edward Steinberg, who wrote several of them.
• Doc Jenkins interviews Mark Duffett, author of the recently published Understanding Fandom.
  

On History: Get 'Em Out by Friday

In 1972, Genesis released their fourth album, Foxtrot. The band's direction was heavily influenced by lead singer Peter Gabriel (Phil Collins was the drummer at the time, and wouldn't step up to do lead vocals until Gabriel left in 1975) and the songs were very fantastical in many ways. I was always particularly liked the first song on the album, "Watcher of the Skies", because of some vague connection I made to Uatu, the Wacther. (The song has nothing to do with him, but in my barely adolescent brain when I first heard it, I couldn't not make a connection.) What I didn't know until recently was that it's actually the third song, "Get 'Em Out by Friday", that has a strong comic connection on that album.

(In 1978, the band -- without Gabriel or original guitarist Steve Hackett -- wrote a more directly comic related song about Little Nemo called "Scenes from a Night's Dream." I'll cover that in some other blog post.)

"Get 'Em Out by Friday" relays the story of a business man whose job it is to make his company's tenement flats more efficient sources of income. He pulls some shady stuff with the tenants, eventually coming up with a decree that all residents must be under four feet tall so "they can fit twice as many in the same building site." The character is then knighted for his great service. I won't get into all the details of the lyrics, but there's all manner of early 1970s British social commentary going on.

Now, during live performances, Peter Gabriel would don very elaborate costumes and essentially sing as the various characters. It was deliberately very theatrical. Here's Gabriel performing another song with Genesis...

Great stuff for prog rock fans like myself, but it's hardly any wonder why the band didn't gain broad popular appeal until Gabriel left.

OK, so in 1976, just after Gabriel left the group, French artist Jean Solé wrote and drew a comic book version of "Get 'Em Out by Friday" and published it in Fluide Glacial #8. The lyrics have been (badly, to my understanding) translated into French by Alain Dister, but what's particularly interesting, I think, is that Solé not only conveys the thrust of the story, but he also portrays Gabriel's performance as well, showing the costume changes which get increasingly out of control. Gabriel would often change costumes on stage mid-song, and several of his more famous get-ups are shown in the final panel.

I've long wondered about turning some great pieces of musical storytelling (particularly some of this Gabriel-era Genesis stuff) into comics, and it turns out that others have actually gone ahead and done exactly that.
Scans courtesy of Ed Pinsent.

On Webcomics: Give Yourself Some Credit!

Let me start by giving Emerald City Comicon some props. One of the promotional things they've done, that I have yet to see any other convention do, is have their own webcomic. They pay Brad Guigar and Chris Giarrusso to do a weekly comic strip called Tales from the Con for the three months leading up to the show. It's mostly a series of one-off gags, mostly centered around pop culture conventions and the fans who go often go to them. Here's a typical strip...

It's a decent strip that I try to follow, but there's no RSS feed to it, so I have to rely on seeing Guigar tweet about it, which I don't always catch. So I only wind up reading maybe one out of every four or five strips.

This year, ECC apparently also added a more dramatic strip as well called Emerald City Crusader Chronicles by Gregg Schigiel, Chris Giarrusso, and Erik Thompson. I'm not sure what it's really about, as I only just discovered it a few minutes before starting this post, but it seems to run on Tuesdays and Thursdays and, presumably, will conclude it's first "issue" around the time of the convention. Here's the latest page...

Do you happen to notice anything different between the two pieces?

Tales from the Con has a line of text underneath the strip providing the name of the strip, the creators, the copyright, and the convention URL. ECCC has none of that; I haven't stripped anything out. The creators are only listed on the initial page, the title and copyright are in the HTML of the original page the art is embedded on, and the convention URL is entirely absent. So if I hadn't told you who worked on the above art, or where it came from, you would likely have no ideas about anything about it. If it happened to go viral because someone posted it on Twitter or Facebook? Again, you'd have no idea where it came from.

A lot of creators don't include any information on their art, so that isn't terribly unusual in and of itself. I'm sure it's just not something that occurs to a lot of people, and I expect many others think it's a good idea but just happen to forget because they're trying to get the comic done in time. Still others may feel it's not worth the effort because those rat-bastards on the internet are going to strip it out anyway, so what's the point?

All that said, though, I think it's particularly unusual in this instance. In the first place, ECCC is being shown up alongside the longer-running TftC, so it's odd that it wouldn't take some more cues from that strip. In the second place, the guy who does the final art for TftC and puts that info in place for that strip is one of the writers for ECCC! You'd think Giarrusso would pull Thompson aside at some point and just say, "Hey, man, slap some credits on those art files, wouldja?"

To sum up, here are the takeaways in today's lesson...

1. If you're a convention, get some creators to do an exclusive strip for your site
2. Always include an RSS feed for your webcomic
3. If you're a creator, put some credits and copyright info on every one of your strips

On Fandom: Historical Snapshots

I was never a big fan of Wizard Magazine. I picked up an issue or two, but it didn't seem to have anything I was especially interested in and I largely ignored it for most of its run.

The magazine debuted in 1991, when I was in college. My disposable income was pretty limited, so I focused on getting the few comics I could afford. So I didn't really take a look at it until it had a few years under its belt, and by then it had pretty well knocked all of its competitors off the market. And while I taken up a full time job (with the requesite increase in disposable income!) I had also gotten access to the world wide web, and any sort of news-type magazine seemed date to me even then. They had previews of books I'd already read about, creator change-ups were long-since confirmed or debunked, and even the snark/comedy was well-trod territory in various message boards. Just by the nature of printing a monthly magazine, they had very little that wasn't already out of date by the time an issue hit the stands.

I have a cousin, though, who did buy the magazine pretty regularly starting around 1995 and ending a decade later. And, of course, being a comic collector, he held on to every issue. A couple years after he stopped getting them, he offered them to me. (Mainly at the insistance of his mother, I think, who was trying to clear out her basement.) Which I happily accepted with the intent of using them for fandom research. Each issue provides a snapshot of not only what was going on in the comics industry, but how fans reacted and felt. It was barometer of comic fandom for twenty years.

(Weird aside: I just realized that I have now had about half of these issues in my possession longer than my cousin had them.)

Having recently gotten my comics library set up, I took some time to organize all my comics magazine. I've got a smattering of Comic Book Marketplace, CBG, Heroes Illustrated, etc. plus a good collection of Alter Ego but the ten years of Wizards outnumbers everything else combined. And while I haven't read the vast majority of them, I have pulled an occasional issue out while researching various projects.

And you know, they work exactly in the way that I had hoped. They stand as time capsules for whatever was going on in and around the industry at the time. I chose not to buy them originally because they had old news, and yet it's old news that is precisely why they hold value now.