Way back in 2011 I saw Thor.
I reacted with Geek Glee, Geek Rage, and Geek Envy.
Chris Hemsworth defied my expectations and was terrific in the lead role — handsome, charismatic, and heroic. Asgard and the Asgardians came off OK, the Destroyer got to blow things up, Loki was sympathetically malevolent, and Anthony Hopkins‘ Odin chewed the scenery. It wasn’t Shakespeare, but I really could not have hoped for a better Thor origin movie.
(Geek Glee! They got it right!)
I read my first Thor comic book a decade before Chris Hemsworth was born. I stuck with the series through some lean creative years, and developed that irrational sense of ownership geeks get over their closely-held secret obsessions.
(Geek Rage! How dare someone else cash in on my discovery!)
When I was twelve, I found my dad’s sculpting hammer and leaped around the overgrown hillside below my house, throwing it at trash heaps and rusty water heaters. I was still enough of a child that I fantasized discovery of an ancient hammer might transform me into a superhero, instead of the aimless and underemployed teen and twenty-something I would later become.
(Geek Envy! I was supposed to be Thor, not this talented Aussie with superior bone structure!)
That’s how old I was in 1974, the year I discovered comics, and fell in love with Thor.
(I kind of liked Green Lantern, too, though after seeing that movie, I think I’ll edit out that part of my past.)
All these characters and more besides came to the screen in the summer of 2011. This was either the apotheosis of my pop culture youth, or a rare moment of perspective on my Möbius-strip path through life.
Thor #227 — my first!
My little lad Jack was eleven. Miles was fourteen. They bracketed my age from the summer of ’74.
In 1974 I lived in Hollywood, California, which was no more glamorous then then it is now. My home in a 1920s-era bungalow on Cahuenga Blvd was up a daunting hill from a newsstand just south of Hollywood Boulevard. World News & Books is still there, and doesn’t look much different than I remember. Maybe they still sell comics, but those comics will be as different from the .25 cent books I bought as a kid as am I from the twelve-year old boy that braved that hill to buy them.
My boys have come and gone from the age I was when I discovered comic books, and they would never have dreamed of hiking a hill to buy comics with their allowance. They still watch comic book movies, but they far prefer video games or binge-streaming Netflix to reading comics or anything else. It troubled me that they refused to embrace my old comic book heroes, denying me the excuse to re-live my youth through them. But despite the boys (thankfully) growing into their own persons, superhero movies are a place where our interests intersect.
We liked Thor — liked it a lot — which was something, because after the first movie trailers, with all the screaming beards and hospital interns being thrown around, I expected the worst. We geeks always expect the worst when our heroes are reimagined for an audience that couldn’t be bothered with them in the first place. We threaten our dignity by letting our geek flag fly for Thor or the X-Men, and we imperil the rosy memories of our past by revisiting the deep affections of youth and remembering who we were, and who we might have been.
in the 1970s, Thor was often at his best in books other than his own
Watching these movies should be a victory lap, but instead it’s an ass-puckering second chance to feel ridiculous for loving comic books. Only now I’m not alone in a dim garage filled with comics longboxes — I’m defenseless in a theater, with my friends, my wife, and my kids. Even as Marvel’s movie franchise has grown to dozens of pictures with unprecedented and worldwide appeal, I still feel a little ridiculous embracing my comics fandom.
My favorite characters from my pivotal summer of ’74 got big movies all at once, validating in that only-money-makes-it-matter fashion that I had good taste as a kid. I stuck with comics, off-and-on, into my late twenties, but largely abandoned them as a fan during my brief career as a comic book writer.
And after coming home from Thor in 2011?
I was either ready to get out of comics once and for all or reawakening to a call long past its final echo.
I didn’t see it coming when I took the boys to Thor, but no sooner had that Sturm and Drang faded from the screen than Jack turned to me and said, “Hey dad, do you have any Thor comics out in the garage?”
Boy, did I.
behold, the Longbox Graveyard!
Longbox Graveyard is about coming to terms with comic books, and trying to enjoy them again. It is my method for examining why I ignored and denied my interest in comics for decades, to the point where I become burdened and a little embarrassed by my Accumulation of books.
My focus is on Marvel and DC books from the Bronze Age (1970-1985), because that “Bronze Age” was the “Golden Age” to me. Longbox Graveyard follows the transformation of my comics Accumulation into a Collection. I purge the books I no longer like, and tell you which books escape the Longbox Graveyard (and why). I write about getting (re)started in comics collecting — building databases, buying and selling back issues, and grading books. And I eventually try to come to terms with my own unsuccessful career as a comics creator.
I welcome your comments. Positive or negative, your participation encourages me to continue this blog.
(And if my nostalgia has you itching to read some comics, please shop through my affiliate link to MyComicShip.com, where your purchases award Longbox Graveyard with trade credit to buy … even more comics! Huzzah!)
NEXT WEEK: #2 The Micronauts!
(Special thanks to Farzad Varahramyan — a legitimate genius and a better friend than I deserve — for creating this blog’s original header art)
Originally published June 22, 2011
Longbox Graveyard has always been about nostalgia, but now I’ve found the ultimate way to swallow my own tail. That’s right, I’m leaning into nostalgia about nostalgia!
Starting this Friday, and on irregular Fridays to follow, I will be republishing select articles from Longbox Graveyard’s past.
In part this is inspired by my (somewhat) successful reprint experiment in the run-up to Avengers: Infinity War, but mostly this is an attempt to undertake a long-delayed editing pass of Longbox Graveyard.
As this blog approaches its seventh anniversary, I’m sitting on nearly seven hundred posts and over a million words of blogging here at Longbox Graveyard. The site is relatively well-indexed, but most of my older posts see little traffic, meaning I have a discoverability problem. And many of my posts are out-of-date, with broken links and text that could use another editing pass. So there’s a content problem, too.
Now, a sane person might conclude this is the time to bring their blog to a close. But a sane person would never start Longbox Graveyard in the first place. And a sane person would never … go back in.
By editing and revising past articles, I hope to make the site more contemporary — or at least as contemporary as a blog stuck in 1977 can be! I will edit for clarity, freshen up my links, and hopefully invite a new round of reading and comments for blogs otherwise lost to the mists of time. This will also help me get my material framed up for whatever Longbox Graveyard’s endgame might be — publication as a book, evidence at my trial, whatever.
So if you see an older article go off-line for awhile, now you know why — that means it has been edited and scheduled for republication at a later date. When that new old blog shows up in your feed, I hope you will consider it anew, and offer your comments. You might even be surprised to see your own comments from years ago, as part of the original blog! The snake of time devours us all!
See you Friday when I republish the very first Longbox Graveyard article, from the summer of 2011 — The Golden Age!