CSotD: Geeks, nerds, dweebs and commercial viability
Skip to comments
In "Heart of the City," Dean is working on a new superhero comic and Heart is, as if often the case, less than impressed. Mark Tatulli seems to get more attention for his pantomime strip, "Lio," than this older, more conventional strip, but there's a lot to like in Heart.
This is a moment of self-effacement for Dean, who, after all, has a cat named "Spock," but, more to the point, it's an odd moment of coincidence, given that Rollingstone has just gained some attention in the comics world with this ungracious and at times incomprehensible interview with prominent comics auteur Grant Morrison.
Among other things, Morrison rails against people who call comic book fans "geeks," which I found odd, since, at least on this side of the Atlantic, the term is almost universally applied to people who are absorbed in technology. Obsessive comic book fans would be more likely to be called "nerds," I think, and the big difference is that "geek" has become a term of (perhaps begrudging) respect generally and one that is genuinely embraced within the geek community.
Granted, I have a lot of geeky friends who are also way too knowledgeable about certain techno-related sci-fi TV shows like Dr. Who and the various iterations of Star Trek and in the Star Wars franchise.
But, except when they are translating the binary jokes in "Foxtrot," it's not really geeky. It's nerdy, and most of them would acknowledge it, just as my department head in college used to cheerfully admit to being a "Baker Street Irregular." He didn't praise Doyle as high literature, but he didn't feel particularly guilty about enjoying Holmes, and that's as it should be, particularly when it isn't the only thing you can point to in your life.
Now, Dean is not calling comic book readers "nerds" or "geeks," but "dweebs," which is a different accusation, and this story arc may have been inspired by the 50th anniversary of a couple of iconic Marvel titles, including "Spiderman," "The Fantastic Four" and "Thor," as well as the rebirth of "Captain America."
I was 11 years old and on the verge of emerging from an extremely dweeby childhood, but I wasn't there yet and, to this day, I retain a lot of dweeby memories that, yes, make me identify with the original Peter Parker and whatever the doctor's name was who turned into Thor. (I'm not a nerd. I'm a dweeb. And I think Thor's secret identity disappeared fairly soon into the storyline.)
Those comics came out while I was at summer camp, where, cut off from TV, we read and traded comic books constantly as our only outlet in a world of canoe races, tennis lessons and games of "Capture the Flag," all served up with an undercurrent of constant bullying that made the ability to put on a mask and beat the crap out of evil-doers a very attractive fantasy.
Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne were simply pretending to be dweebs in real life. Peter Parker was the genuine article, and that was a game-changer.
Clark Kent knew he was Superman all his life, and any crap he took was part of the plan. But Peter Parker was genuinely picked on because he really wasn't anybody special, and so, when he suddenly became Spiderman, he also became a vindictive smart-ass looking for payback.
In "Lord of the Flies," Ralph flees to the miraculously-timed protection of a rescue party, but there are no rescue parties in real life. The way you overcome having been bullied in the real world is to become a bigger dick yourself.
Hello, Peter Parker!
But let's get back to the name-calling, because Morrison (and others) talk about the death of the printed comic book, and that's a topic worth pondering.
Comic books and comic strips are not the same thing, despite being examples of storytelling through sequential art. And mainstream super-hero comic books are not graphic novels, a term I'm not comfortable with because most of my favorite "graphic novels" are, in fact, "graphic memoirs."
Graphic novels are a hot commodity among publishers right now, and comic strips are making the transition to on-line, though, as has been said here before, it's the form and not necessarily the specific strips that can make that transition.
Comic books are, I think, in trouble, and it is the nerd factor that has created the problem. As a kid who read comics, I knew who Jack Kirby and Stan Lee were, but, for the most part, comic books were a cheap pulp confection churned out by nameless drudges behind the curtain and, when I went down to the store with my allowance on Saturday, I could choose between two candy bars or a comic book.
Sometimes, an "annual" would come out. It would be 50 cents and I'd have to think hard about how much I wanted it, because that would pretty much wipe out my allowance for the week, but it would be worth it, because you couldn't read the whole thing in one sitting.
Today, comic books are more ambitious. The art is better, the reproduction of the art is better, and, as a consequence, you're not going to buy a comic book for the equivalent cost of two candy bars, unless your idea of a "candy bar" is some kind of Ghiardelli cacao deluxe designer bar.
And the storytelling is more complex, but it's not that much better. Once in awhile, there's something in a mass-market comic book that is more intriguing than the usual, but it's still formulaic and it's certainly not on a level with Maus, Smile, Fun Home or Mom's Cancer.
And yet, if you buy a super-hero comic book, unless you plan to spend hours poring over the art and examining the inking and lettering and picking out the give-aways that tell who did the penciling — that is to say, if you're just buying it because you want to read a comic book — well, then you're just spent five bucks or more on a very quick read.
They're no longer a mass market medium, which creates a problem. If they are content to be a niche form, join the crowd. There are a number of independent niche comics, and nobody gets rich but the art continues.
If, however, they still want to reach a commercial audience, they've got to appeal not just to the nerds, but also to the dweebs.
The dweebs are where the money is, but you have to sell to a lot of dweebs to make it work.
Comments
Comments are closed.