Overnight, I was thinking: Instead of video games, I like to unwind with books. But if I really want to let go, it's comic books- preferably from the 20th century. I won't go into 'why,' besides it's a cheap bit of time traveling plus escapism. I like to see the weigh stations of the times, the way comics integrate influences from years before I was born with voices of their times, which are now before many of YOU were born. I love the way art and text together tickle my brain, ping-ponging between right and left hemispheres in a way Grant Morrison described so beautifully in the non-fictional SuperGods . There's a delight in execution, certainly a hint of nostalgia to stir a lifetime of remembrances, a love for this four-color trash made by an industry that always expected its demise the next year, making pamphlets that might survive to a yard sale for a quarter or so each, if not just tossed before the silverfish struck. I've met, interviewed (es...

The image of Spider-Man most seen in toys and other 1960s, ‘70’s and 1980s merchandise was not usually derived from his rather creepy, gangly, unique look from his visual creator, Ditko, but rather, the more formulaic interpretation by Marvel’s art director, his second regular artist, John Romita. (And yes, his first-ever appearance in the throwaway Amazing Fantasy #15 was on a cover drawn by the other Marvel legend, Jack Kirby. By that count, it was the third time that was the charm, commercially.) I’ve been, in absence of sleep between part-time job shifts, flipping through Ditko’s last issues of Amazing Spider-Man, anticipating something to say for this essay, which tells the story of the passing of the torch (or web shooters) to Marvel’s new hire, John Romita, better known at this point for drawing the kinds of popular romance comics that, until recent years, not one in a hundred collectors sought anymore. The newest issue of Amazing Spider-Man, as #27, under the current num...

Here we go: a news story you may have heard, and may have heard incorrectly, but without a doubt, and without much lead time after the big reveal, which is: In 2000, Marvel decided to try a new universe, launching their big gun super heroes as if they were starting out in the 21st century, separate heroes from the traditional Marvel Universe, with stories and characters that could go different, surprising directions. It's the Ultimate line of comics...and how different can you get, than to have Ultimate Spider-Man himself die heroically? Now, a young person named Miles Morales, who is half black and half Hispanic, has taken up the identity of his fallen hero...and the Ultimate Universe will never be the same! No, I don't know his powers, how he got them, even what Miles is like outside of a single panel. First out the gate, my reaction's positive. I'm hardly alone in thinking Spider-Man's appeal rests in part with that costume, which is not only dynamic and fun, ...