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Gene Colan Saves Daredevil, Pedal to the Devil #2

The Man Without Fear, or a Consistent Artist Halfway through his introductory run of Daredevil, Stan Lee faced two looming threats, artistic consistency and painful mediocrity. For the entire preceding run of the series, Lee had been unable to nail down long term artists. This resulted in a cycle of the book coming to a screeching halt just as it is picking up speed. The chemistry and collaboration between writer and artist never seemed to truly click, with the slight exception of John Romita Sr. However even Romita’s run would be quite short at the end of the day compared to Lee himself. Despite the rotating bullpen of artists, the book always looked good and the art was never distracting or particularly lacking. Being passable actually highlighted the main issue facing The Man Without Fear, his identity.

As outlined in the previous post for this series, there is a certain amount of crossover between Daredevil and Spider-Man design wise, with their bright red costumes and contraptions to swing across the city. Add on top that Matt Murdock doesn’t have flashy powers, and throw in some truly generic villains, and you have a recipe for the blandest superhero comic around, especially with Spidey on sale at the same time. The saving grace of the first half of Lee’s run is the melodramatic plots and character beats which essentially bookend each issue.

Nearly two years in though, something seems to click and the book makes some big changes. First and foremost, Gene Colan is brought in on pencils for the remainder of Lee’s run, barring the final issue, which is forgivably given to Barry Smith. Colan’s work will elevate the book from an amusing bit of entertainment history into a more digestible modern experience. Next to the artistic jump, the stories will actually revert, almost re playing the hits.

The plots bring back older villains, and puts the characters into positions where their development retreads, but does so with much more intention and room to breathe. It is as though the story takes a step back and realizes that it’s going to be much more long running than the creator’s initially predicted, and as a result attempts to flesh out the ideas that have already been presented. This rehashing may seem tedious to some, but the overall package is so much more enjoyable, it arguably turns the book around for the better.

Karen, Matt, and Foggy

The cast of Daredevil stays relatively consistent as the series extends past year two, despite the character’s frequent assertions and attempts to the contrary. Each of the main trio makes their own bold exit from the central law office, for varying durations and to differing degrees of dramatic success. The messy law office thrives off spontaneous decisions and some deep traumas.

There’s not a lot of personality deviation from their introduction, each keeping a facade of the mild mannered office worker, while sharing more petty and self serving thoughts with the reader. Instead of sweeping changes Lee opts to run back each of the characters and hit their best beats again and more thoroughly. The relationship between Matt and Karen, Foggy and Daredevil, or any of the cast’s career pursuits are mirrors of the previous storylines, but with more vibrant art and extended time.

This approach makes sense if the title and company was gaining lots of readers back on the publication date. There’s a good chance Lee and company had no idea which of Marvel’s characters would last for decades as opposed to months, so they would lead with their best foot forward. It does sap a bit of energy from the story’s momentum once the parallels become clear, but the extra development time elevates the neat aspects of the first portion of the run into genuinely captivating ideas.

The group is flawed and weird and petty and perfect. The three are all far from paragons of virtue, with a hundred things for which each one of them could be criticized. Their worse actions though are always clearly fueled by insecurities and personal woes, in a way that keeps the reader betting on these losing dogs. As the readthrough progresses hopefully there will be some long term shifts in the dynamics of the main group, as there will definitely be tonal changes for the entire book.

Mike Murdock, the True Daredevil

The most enjoyable story beat that Lee hammers home through his run is the third alter ego of Matt Murdock and Daredevil, that of his own twin brother Mike. With a completely flipped, extroverted personality, Mike does and says everything that Matt doesn’t. He zings Foggy and treats Karen with both open admiration and misogyny, which he otherwise would hold back. The interactions with Mike are consistently funny, and become quite distinct when conceptualizing just how broken a man has to be to deceive his two closest friends into thinking he is his own twin brother.

Matt, who is secretly Mike, who is secretly Daredevil, who is secretly blind, who secretly is also… Thor? The idea of a secret identity is explored rigorously by this series, and in many ways finds the limits of the concept. The book sees just about every combination of fake outs and surprise reveals between alter egos and costume swaps. Unfortunately superhero comics will fail to recognize tired tropes in perpetuity, making the entire concept feel a little like something that’s been seen before. However nothing out stays its welcome in regards to Mike, and the sheer absurdity of making an alternate personality such a prominent aspect of the story is an effective hook.

Beauty in Simplicity

For this run of Daredevil there is a distinct setup of a status quo vs unexpected interruption dynamic. Essentially the issue to issue plot revolves around the three person law office, vigilante and all, facing a threat that will upset their established everyday routine. Whether it’s a maniacal villain trying to murder Daredevil or a job opportunity for Karen, the obstacles facing the characters tend to be surprises that put the protagonist on the back foot. There is no overarching goal to the series or the hero, and they are both placed in positions where they are reacting as opposed to pursuing a specific end.

The organization of the story saps a lot of the narrative drama, as it is clear that most things will return to normal quite quickly, if there is even substantive change to begin with. However what it does establish is a reusable base, one that the creative team can use to create a consistent and long running comic. The tone and main cast become relatable and thorough as they are continually explored.

Each arc lasts only a few issues and generally starts with the simple premise of a vigilante and his law office. Quickly the convulsions of the series are added, with the heroes being as messy as the villains, and then all is right and finished with a bow at the end, and the good guy winning. The repetition makes binge reading a bit of a slog, but would have worked well for continually drawing in new readers or as a weekly pick up. The interactions are witty, the plots are bonkers, and the main drag for the series is it does not feel fresh.

Get Your Words Outta My Comic

The nearly twenty five issues of idling story are almost entirely saved by the work of the series' new artist Gene Colan. The step up in consistency and quality are an equal testament to improved comic making and maintaining a primary artist, as well as to the talent of Colan. When the plot is less than engaging, the propelling force of the book really falls to the art. In the case of Colan’s run he rises to the occasion, and brings Lee up with him. The longtime writer may be at the peak of his dialogue powers in this run, writing smart wit and snark more than obtuse unnecessary descriptions.

The fact may be that Colan’s vibrant and clear illustrations simply did not necessitate any of the extraneous bubbles explaining what the art is meant to be. Equally true could be that the quality of the work was lessened when crammed with too many words and white spaces. Either way an improvement in art direction and a more focused writing style proved to be a recipe to fix the more prevalent drawbacks of the earlier issues.

The best example from this batch of stories is when Daredevil faces the Jester. Much like the other recent arcs, the formula is a weird and specifically themed villain has shown up to fight Daredevil and be defeated over three or four issues. The Jester is actually one of the longer arcs and the story is a pure slog when revisited today when clown villains are among the most played out tropes in the medium.

The Jester saga is completely worth reading for the art alone. Colan decides to play with the panels in ways that are unique for the relatively tame title, and heavily utilizes full pages of art. The dynamism from the integration of these techniques infuse the series with a little more heart, and sparks a bit of interest. Together with the panel to panel quality and the longevity of the artist on the series, this becomes a clear leader in the title’s early runs. Issue forty nine is the last for Colan but only for a bit, as he will return to collaborate with new staple writer Roy Thomas in just a few issues.

Closing Arguments

With the well established creators Stan Lee and Gene Colan both firing on all cylinders, Daredevil becomes a comic that can stand against the test of time. The stories are dated, and by modern standards even the art may be considered simple. The dialogue and early forms of dynamism make all the difference, and present a package that is a lot of fun even from a contemporary view. It’s not necessarily a great binge, and substantively isn’t the deepest comic around, but with a little patience the book becomes simple, pure hijinks and melodrama.

Enjoyable at the peak and forgettable at the lowest points, issue fifty of Daredevil sees Lee’s run come to a close. Unceremoniously departing in the middle of an arc, Lee will transition into an editor role and hand the writing duties over to Roy Thomas. As iconic as his style has proven to be, it feels like the right time for a change in creative direction. Seemingly Lee had drained himself of any more Daredevil stories, but had laid the groundwork that would facilitate the ideas and work of other writers for decades.

Citation Station

The Cover Original Article

Daredevil, Issues 25-50

25-50 written by Stan Lee

25-49 art by Gene Colan

50 art by Barry Smith

Daredevil #33, Art By Gene Colan

[thecoverblog]

Exposing the Empire with YA, The Amulet of Samarkand Review

“It’s like Harry Potter, but for boys.” This confusingly misguided comment is one I remember distinctly from the book store employee who was trying to sell my grandmother and me The Amulet of Samarkand. The even more baffling part is that it worked. But to be fair it was 2007 and, as an eight year old boy in the rural American South, I was horrified to learn that I potentially had been reading and enjoying a book series that was for girls.

Having read the entire Bartimaeus series in my youth, I still have no clue what that employee was referring to, unless it was pure author discrimination. However it is very clear that similarities between the series do exist, at least superficially. The Amulet of Samarkand is book one of the Bartimaeus Trilogy (or Sequence if you’re nasty), and centers around a naive, misguided orphan who is introduced to a world of magic and politics in London. The overall setting and description is honestly the extent of the crossover between Bartimaeus and HP, besides some common themes and tropes that are much more attributable to the genre than anything.

The book is certainly an introduction into a new specific world cooked up by author Jonathan Stroud. There is a significant amount of time spent building the logic and lore of this version of reality, though it is admirably obscured within gripping action and drama sequences. The political structure that is explored can seem a bit simplistic when viewed now, but I do distinctly remember being confused and challenged by many aspects as a child. This story unfolds in a way that is not revolutionary, but is potentially subversive for the target audience.

Nathaniel, But Kindly Keep His Name To Yourself

Despite not being the series titular hero, the viewpoint character for The Amulet of Samarkand is the young magician named Nathaniel. An orphan being raised via abuse, while simultaneously being integrated into a lifestyle of power and privilege. He is a tragic mess from the start to the end of this journey.

The world that unfolds for Nathaniel, and the reader, is a society of distinct hierarchies and exploitations of power. In other words it mirrors reality quite sharply. The ruling class is exclusively magicians, who keep their knowledge secret and consolidated. Nathaniel is indoctrinated with the ideas that the British Empire’s magicians are noble heroes, and that they keep peace throughout the world. He is so young and sheltered that his naivety drives a lot of his actions. The other force pushing him is ambition and privilege.

With one hand his adopted parents, particularly his father, is smacking Nathaniel down with physical and verbal abuse. The other hand is feeding stories of glory and spelling out the ways to achieve it. Nathaniel’s growth and liberation is linear and clear from early on, however it becomes marred in the death of his innocence.

The exploits of Nathaniel and his gradual rise in power could be considered the main story, but the more interesting angle is the system that he learns about. As he becomes more adept at wielding his position, the consequences of doing so are revealed.

The magician’s main weapon is the enslavement via magical bonds of djinn, pulled from another realm. Utilizing the inherent power of knowing a djinni’s true name, the magician’s have developed a reliable system to continually wield the magic for themselves. The whole process is very business coded, with the orders and bonds between the two parties basically being magically bound contracts. Unfortunately for Nathaniel, djinn can utilize a magician’s true name to inflict intense pain, if they somehow manage to learn it. This lesson comes to him through a trial by fire, and it is the first domino to fall for the young boy.

It becomes very hard to justify commanding other beings through force, when they suddenly can deliver direct consequences to you. The reality in the novel, and in many cases in the real world, is that the privileged simply cannot comprehend the repercussions of their action, as long as they remain secluded above it.

The instant the tables turn, the crushing weight of empathy and sympathy starts to press on Nathaniel, in a relatable manner. From there he’s presented with the easy option of playing into the system, or the harder one of standing against it. This decision will be continuous, one Nathaniel has to keep making. He does not see the full picture, even at the end of the novel, but the building contrast between Nathaniel’s abilities and his morality is the lynchpin of his character.

Bartimaeus, But Keep His Name To Yourself

The second protagonist, and the guide for both the reader and Nathaniel, is the djinni Bartimaeus. He can only be described as pure wit, using footnotes to give long winded and personal asides, ranging from petty jabs to small history lessons. Bartimaeus keeps up a cold, sarcastic facade, but slowly reveals a much more relatable personality to the reader.

An unaging spirit, who has been around for much of humanity’s history, Bartimaeus is a deep well of experience. From him the reader learns the dynamic between the djinn and the magicians, namely the former being ripped from their homes and forcibly bound to the will of the latter. The many levels of djinn have varying abilities ranging from vaguely useful to horribly destructive. The more powerful the spirit, the more difficult it is for the magician to bind and wield.

Bartimaeus reveals himself to be a mid-level djinni, but continuously builds himself up with stories of his historical exploits. The most important insight he allows is that ancient Egypt was his favorite era, and that he made a magician friend in that time. The boy named Ptolemy becomes a clear indicator that Bartimaeus has a much larger capacity for compassion than he lets on.

In terms of an arc, Bartimaeus doesn’t have too much progression as a character. He is forced into participation in the story, and spends most of the story quipping and darting through action sequences. In between he uses humor to mask the information dumping, as he describes the levels of imps and the specific limitations of certain magicians. Charming and very funny, his chapters are highlights and a breeze to read, if a bit one note.

Systems, Sarcasm, and Storytelling

As the first in a series, The Amulet of Samarkand is unabashedly an introduction in many ways. There is a clear sense of trying to describe as much of the political and magical systems as possible, while still delivering an engaging story. The occasional separation of the information dumps into footnotes is interesting since it provides an easy way for readers to simply skip the long winded explanations, but in doing so highlights the stark difference in content. There is certainly a sense that the story wants to be action packed, dramatic, and over the top, but feels obligated to justify each sequence. In the best cases it helps to keep the story fleshed out and immersive, but at worst the distinct sections can feel too dissimilar and actually pull the reader out.

As Nathaniel gains more real world experience, the political landscape of this version of the British Empire is exposed to him. From a younger perspective this can be pretty enlightening, as the fictional empire very much mirrors those that dominate the international landscape of reality. As an older reader though it is decidedly the less interesting out of the two systems that are being presented.

The magic system for the novel is based around different planes of existence and perception. The more powerful a djinni, the more levels they can see and manipulate, with the humans largely staying confined to the first material plane. From the perspectives of the protagonists, the system is fairly intuitive and at least feels like it makes sense even when the exact events are vague or rushed.

Building out the institutional structures takes up a large portion of the reading, but the spaces that are left are crammed with sincere character moments and romping action sequences. There are very few conversations or altercations that do not feel as though they are moving the plot or characters along. The story comes out tight and self contained, while simultaneously poised to be expanded into much more.

Conclusion

There are plenty of novels where the YA label can come across as unnecessary or borderline derisive. Without getting into the merits of those arguments or the classification in general, The Amulet of Samarkand works as a fantastic novel for readers of any age. The light it shines on society in general could be seen as one that has long been illuminated for older readers, who may not feel truly challenged by the story or themes.

For even the most seasoned fantasy veteran though, there is plenty of interesting magic and lore, not to mention jokes, to keep the story compelling. An easy read, with plenty of new ideas and at least one standout protagonist. The novel exceeds expectations but does not necessarily smash them.

Score: 70/100

Citation Station

The Amulet of Samarkand, by Jonathan Stroud

Cover Art by Melvyn Grant

Original Article, The Cover

[thecoverblog]

The Original X-Men: Mutants Before the Metaphor

Marvel’s Merry Mutants

The Silver Age of comic books was picking up steam in the latter half of 1963. With the immense success from Fantastic Four, Spider-Man and other recent creations, Marvel was looking to add titles to their roster. Establishing a universe and core audience for their comics was seemingly at the forefront of the company’s minds. With perhaps a bit of a peak over at DC’s Doom Patrol, Kirby and Lee debuted the X-Men, a team of the ‘strangest’ superheroes of all. However a glance at the group would not necessarily back up the claim.

Looking at the new teen team, there’s not a lot of strangeness on the surface. Four teen white boys, with identical hairstyles of varying shades of blonde and brown, alongside one red headed teen girl isn’t exactly a circus act. However the makeup of the team showcases two major points for the series. First, the idea of secretly being different, of not outwardly displaying differences is a distinct theme for this era of X-Men. This is in slight contention with the development of the idea of the mutant metaphor in the ensuing many years, but that has not taken hold yet. The second implication of the included roster is a bit simpler, it’s just demographics.

Marvel as a company tends to be comics made by and for young white guys, often not for the better. The modern understanding is that the X-Men’s mutant metaphor is applicable to various oppressed groups, but that’s not really the case in 1963. The goal of this team seems to be much more for young boys to project themselves and their friends onto the teen superheroes, and their related drama. The series is not a progressive social commentary at this point, if it ever truly is.

Understanding the approach of the creator’s at this point is essential in enjoying these classic comics with the current and long running context of the X-Men. The story is light, the plots are relatively simple, and the character’s are consistently inconsistent. This has to be taken in stride with a story over 60 years old, and under the surface there are actually more persisting elements in the first nineteen issues than it may seem.

Meet the Original Five

Warren Worthington the Third, aka The Angel

Blonde haired, with white feathery wings, Warren Worthington is exactly what’s expected from someone with his code name. Besides being a bit of an overconfident rich boy, there’s not too much depth to the Angel. He spends about half his time dodging airborne projectiles, and the other half hitting on his younger teammate Jean Grey. The unfortunate side for Warren is that his haughty advances mostly serve as a foil to the reserved Scott Summers, and his own pursuit of Jean. Warren’s passes often result in Jean’s admonishment, and her thoughts indicate she is much more interested in Scott.

He’ll be more fleshed out and overly complicated down the road, though he won’t ever completely shake his womanizing behaviors. The flying X-Men comes out a bit boring in the debut run, but is certainly fun to see swoop around when drawn by Jack Kirby.

Hank McCoy, aka The Beast

Everyone’s favorite bouncing blue beast makes his start in a decidedly paler than expected fashion. The transformation of Hank into the hairy version of himself is so iconic across other media, it is a stark realization that the character does not begin with this in mind. Besides his outward appearance though, it is remarkable how much of Beast’s personality is already shaping up in the Silver Age.

A central point of Hank’s character is that his brain is as useful, if not moreso, than his mutation. Whether he looks like a regular teen, ape, or cat monster, he keeps the mind of a genius. Even as a normal looking guy, Hank is already insecure about others not recognizing this trait. Early on he adopts an overly verbose way of talking, clearly meant to showcase his smarts to those around him. It’s charming to read, but would almost certainly be unbearable in regular conversation. As seen in issue eight however, the way he uses his words may be the least concerning aspect of Hank.

Professor X leaves the team for a short while to battle the elusive Lucifer, after surprisingly graduating the team from the school. This progression, along with a traumatic incident involving an angry mob of humans, pushes Beast to exit the X-Men. The harshness of what happens and the speed at which Beast turns are compelling lines when connected to the long term moral failings that will besiege him. Even when he returns, the methods Hank employs are ramped up in intensity.

Since Unus the Untouchable (a mutant enclosed in a personal force field) easily defeats the X-Men in combat, Hank turns to his brain in an attempt to take down the villain. What he devises is questionable and borderline sinister. He whips up a device that increases Unus’s mutation, extending the force field that covers him further outward. This creates the practical issue of Unus being completely unable to touch anything, and he cannot manage to eat or drink. The X-Men use this as leverage, and tell him that should he ever try to join Magneto they will zap him with the ray again, and force him to die of malnourishment.

It sounds bad for Beast and the others, but to be completely fair Unus is a man trying to murder a bunch of teens so that he can join a madman in conquering the world. Still, with the long term arcs of Beast, and the idea that he always is willing to go a little further than other mutants in order to secure safety is cool to see established so early on.

Bobby Drake, aka Iceman

The youngest of the original five teens, Bobby Drake/Iceman, will face a continued character struggle that is exemplified in his uncreative name. For the vast majority of his publication history the threat of being generic or shallow will haunt the quickly named superhero. A consistent jokester, Bobby often falls into the trap of being just comedic relief in lieu of any personal depth. Arguably that is true even in the genesis of the series, but a couple of creative decisions boost the coolest X-Men up a couple of tiers.

First and largely unimportantly, the costume. Iceman’s costume is essentially just a pair of boots he slides on over his completely snowy exterior. It’s a charming and simple gag that goes with Bobby well. The most interesting aspect of his getup is the frozen layer he manifests for himself.

At the start of the series, Bobby is covered in a layer of fluffy snow. Kirby draws him with lots of curved lines, creating a rounded pile effect that is reminiscent of The Thing with a softer exterior. It’s a distinct look that may be unfamiliar, as it is not the typical look that Bobby will sport for the rest of his career. A bit unceremoniously in issue eight, Cyclops suggests to Iceman that he try and ‘harden’ his snow form into a harder ice material, and he is quickly successful. This quick but lasting development points to major themes for the character, including his vast capacities power wise, and his stark lack of self-awareness.

For the duration of the run, Kirby essentially utilizes Bobby’s ice as an artistic outlet and convenient plot device. It’s apparent that Iceman can essentially create anything with his ice, and this intense versatility helps to push the story. From teleportation via water, to revitalizing an entire planet, the throughline of being naively wielding great power will continue to come up. As he gains abilities though he doesn’t always develop personally, which results in a character with too much power and too little motivation. It’s funny that this potential flaw could be due in part to Kirby and Lee simply having fun with their character, and the trend continuing.

Some of Bobby’s displays of strength are done when he himself is not even in control of his body. As outlined by Taylor Lancaster for Screen Rant, when Emma Frost inhabits Bobby’s body in Uncanny X-Men 314 she unlocks levels of the powers that were previously unknown. He’s embarrassed and upset after the realization that she immediately was able to master and utilize his own mutation better than he had any conceived.

This characteristic of lacking self introspection is expanded on by Brian Michael Bendis later on in reference to the character’s sexuality. It is a neat throughline to track, since Iceman will be woefully relegated to a banter-fueled powerhouse of a plot convenience for large stints of his publication.

Scott Summers aka Cyclops

The fourth member of the starting five falls into a similar pattern with the rest of being relatively well established. Though these are dated comics, and in some senses shallow, there is still an undeniable kernel for the character of Cyclops that is already present. Perhaps due to superhero comic’s tendencies to reset characters to their established base, Scott feels firmly on track to fulfill his future roles. Even today when the character has evolved ten times over, there is still a likely chance that any adaptation of the character will mirror the personality seen in these pages.

The first highlight of Cyclops is slight, and that is his mutant ability, and in some instances disability. Laser eyes themselves may be one of the most run of the mill power sets, right up there with angel wings. However Scott is unable to control his optic blasts, and that decision from the creators alone adds a lot of complexity to him. Throughout the issues, all of his teammates are ‘mastering’ their mutations and generally expanding their capabilities, but Scott is never able to do this.

Cyclops remains reliant on his glasses or visor lest he unleash destruction. It’s a simple setup, but for fans it works time and again. He has a rollercoaster of a story ahead of him, but the concept of having to be so careful all the time and never truly being in control remains as an undercurrent and terminal anxiety. Ironically being in control is exactly something that Cyclops is known for, again just not of himself.

Many times over Scott will be touted as a ‘natural leader’ and will consistently be handed the reins of the X-Men, at least in the field. On the other hand, the leader role will just as often be stripped from Scott and given to someone with more experience, capabilities, or trust from peers. It’s a mix of character developments and the ever present editorial pull to reset the original five, coming together to create a somber scenario.

When following Scott it adds a lot to know that he will go through so much, and he will ever so slowly change, but eventually he will become fleshed out, with relatable ideals and flaws alike. He has a much more explicit arc in long running comics than a lot of characters, even more so than his preceding teammates.

These issues see the birth of the golden boy, and he does ascend to be the official leader. Of course it is taken from him in the end, and he never is able to match his teammates in mastery and scope of their mutations. Scott Summers has a lot to learn, and his lessons will be much more enjoyable for the reader than to him.

Jean Grey aka Marvel Girl

The last and certainly least well written of the original five is unsurprisingly the only girl on the team, Jean Grey. Pretty and stereotypical, while Jean is initially introduced as almost a viewpoint character for the reader, she is quickly relegated to girl to pine after for each of her boy teammates. Marvel’s overall writing of women is a well known weakness in almost all eras of the company, due in large part to their refusal to hire them to write. Setting the more antiquated bits aside, there is plenty to be appreciated around the growth of Marvel Girl.

Much like her chilly teammate, Jean Grey’s powers will only grow and grow over the years, to the point she will serve as the ultimate plot convenience when written poorly. She will be able to do essentially anything that is needed to move the story, but that is still far in her future. To begin, she can only lift small objects for a short time, though over the course of these issues that drastically changes.

As early as issue six Jean is lifting Hank in the air, demonstrating a marked increase in power since her recruitment. This continues with her establishing a patented technique of defeating the super speedster, Quicksilver, by simply lifting and spinning him in the air. In the tenth issue Jean is able to disassemble and rebuild a rifle, and a couple of issues later she shows that she can lift herself off the ground, in the introductory battle against the Juggernaut.

The seventeenth issue gives the first indication that Jean’s mutant ability is akin to the likes of Magneto, meaning it can essentially do anything. In a rush to return to the mansion, she utilizes her telekinesis powers to run and leap over obstacles for miles, alongside Beast. It’s a unique usage that shows just how versatile being a telekinetic can be. Altogether her gradual growth is another early indicator of later significant developments. Dealing with immense power in all facets, physically, emotionally, morally, etc, will be a massive recurring theme for Jean. Besides her capabilities though, there is little beyond her basic relationships that will define her personality in the long run.

The Mutant Metaphor or Lack Thereof

For the original team, there are plenty of character points that are long running and get their start in the opening run. However the underlying thematic framing of the mutant metaphor is simply not present in the way it will be for the majority of the series. Applying the analogy of mutants to most any oppressed groups doesn’t really work beyond surface examination, and isn’t explored by the narrative.

Take for example the famously inaccurate casting of Professor Xavier as Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and Magneto as Malcolm X. At this point in the series, Magneto is a cartoonish, over the top villain who can only be rationalized as a deeply traumatized person. He does not have a cogent ideology and to relate him to any real world person is simply silly. Xavier and MLK though are a bit more comparable, but far from similar.

In the eyes of the public, Xavier is a non mutant expert on genetics, evolution, and human mutations. He advocates for assimilation and nonviolent compliance from the mutants, so they can integrate into society. MLK obviously never presented as a white man, and openly called for radical change and equality. Xavier is the white moderate, and anyone unaware of MLK’s opinion on the white moderate shouldn’t be.

Community of Freaks

Alongside the lack of metaphor, the story structure itself is distinct from that which will come to define the series. Long running plots, multiple threads weaving through each other, heaps of melodrama, and other staples of the X-Men universe are not seen in these issues. Instead and in line with the times, the stories are mostly self-contained, starting and wrapping up in a single issue or two. Though to say ‘story’ may be a bit of a stretch in some instances.

The experience of the first nineteen issues is not so much a singular narrative experience as it is a wild tour through a wacky corner of a wacky universe. Characters and concepts are introduced quickly and often, making the pace change depending on how thorough of a reader one is. There’s a lot of fluff in the dialogue, but also a lot of wit to make it worth it. At no point does there seem to be a logical endpoint, and through the whole run there is a palpable focus on building out the mutant community and filling its ranks. The universe feels poised to facilitate a much larger ensemble for a longer time than other superhero comics, with more of a focus on community and relationships.

Ironically it will be one of the few canceled comics started by Lee and Kirby a bit down the road, though when it comes back it will double down on pretty much all the melodrama and worldbuilding. It is genuinely impossible to gauge accurately how much of the heart of the X-Men comes from Lee and Kirby directly, or how much their work has inspired other creators on the title. While other authors will completely recontextualize it, these beginning issues lay the foundation for the community of muties that will attract readers for generations.

Y’all Seen This Jack Kirby Fella?

Very little feels as close to reinventing the wheel as analyzing and praising Jack Kirby’s artwork. It’s pure fun, but that’s no revelation. It’s remarkable how characters such as Magneto, Cyclops, Iceman, many of the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants alongside others, are already iconically designed, and won’t have a ton of true changes in their looks for years. It is a bit disappointing and surprising that through all the many mutants introduced, they are consistently just normal looking dudes with powers. The costumes are more striking than any of the physical mutations that are introduced. There is surely some missed potential, given how the mutants will be portrayed later on it would have been interesting to see Kirby’s takes on some really radical looking mutants.

It’s clean, simple, and borderline tells the story itself. Some may feel it’s dated obviously given the limitations at the time, but honestly it holds up really well. The bold art even works pretty well when the comic is read on something as small as a phone. There is a real staying power to Kirby’s drawing that gives the issues lasting worth even in the modern context.

Graduating to Greater Things

They are the X-Men we know, not necessarily the ones we love. With less than twenty issues, Lee and Kirby leave a lot on the table. The heart of the series will captivate readers in masses, but that’s arguably not quite here. What is present is foundational groundwork that continues to influence the X-Men and the Marvel comics universe as a whole. Of course that is to be expected with these two creators, but nonetheless is impressive. While it may not resonate as strongly as it did once, the wit and pace of the story both in art and writing create a timeless good time.

Score: 65/100

Citation Station

The Cover Original Article

Emma Frost Proved Iceman's Powers Can Make Him a Mutant God, by Taylor Lancaster

Letter from Birmingham Jail, by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr

Marvel Comics: The Untold Story, by Sean Howe

X-Men, Issues 1-19

1-19 written by Stan Lee

1-17 art by Jack Kirby

12 art by Alex Toth

13-19 art by Werner Roth

[thecoverblog]

Stan Lee’s Daredevil Begins

Origins

In the early 1960’s Stan Lee was hoping that the people would see the light, and superhero comics would ramp up in popularity. The likes of Fantastic Four and Spider-Man were captivating the masses, and importantly, their pockets. As outlined in Sean Howe’s Marvel Comics: The Untold Story, Lee was frantically capitalizing on recent growth in the market in an attempt to court both financial stability and overall legitimacy for himself as a writer and storyteller. Perhaps more impactfully he was striving to have those attributes applied to the comics as a medium itself.

Fans of the emerging Marvel universe were as caught up in the names behind the characters, than the costumed adventurers themselves. The likes of Steve Ditko, Stan himself, and certainly Jack Kirby, were attracting readers in an early form of fandom. In an effort to expand past the limited roster of both heroes and creators, Marvel comics began trying out fresh faces both off and on the page.

It would turn out that the faces really only needed to be fresh to the readers for the most part, as a good number of those recruited into the business at this time were veterans of sorts of the comic book industry. Along with himself and Kirby, Lee recruited artist Bill Everett to help with the creation of one of the new superheroes. Leaving right after the debut issue, creation would turn out to be the main contribution from Everett.

Slightly conflicting accounts of the design of Daredevil exist from all three of the regularly credited creators, as described by Mark Evanier on the Jack F.A.Q. at POVONLINE. Suffice to say Lee, Everett, and Kirby all seem to be wholly worthy of a co-creator credit. The full truth is most likely lost to the time, but the seemingly plausible explanation, as told by Marvel Comics’ former editor-in-chief Joe Quesada is that Lee, Everett, and Kirby significantly contributed to the initial character production. Artists Steve Ditko and Sol Brodsky also came in to help at least finish the issue, but their exact contributions have not been reliably expounded on. The starting point for Daredevil is precisely known however, as he originates from a former comics superhero named… Daredevil.

The original Daredevil was a Liv Gleason Publication character, created by Jack Binder in the 1940’s, and was slightly reworked early on by writer and artist Charles Biro. This costumed crime fighter would begin mute, equipped with a boomerang, and wearing a spiked metal belt over his superhero tights. The mute angle would quickly be dropped, and a background of being raised by an aboriginal community in Australia would be established, presumably to explain the boomerang shtick. The modern Daredevil would inherit the concept of a disability, though he would persist being blind, as opposed to his counterpart’s muteness. This, coupled with his evening status of costumed vigilante, were about all the shared crossover from the two heroes besides their moniker.

Early on in Lee’s run, Daredevil may appear to rip from the in-house hit of Spider-Man more than even the progenitor of his name. Using his billy clubs to swing around the city in lieu of webs, coupled with the signature quippy nature of Lee’s dialogue, it would take a bit for Daredevil to really break the mold. Many villains would be borrowed or generic, and honestly a lot of early Daredevil feels like it is re-treading ground a bit. As the series develops the relationships between the main characters do shine through, and that is where a lot of the title’s charm is derived.

For twenty four issues, the first half of the first volume of Daredevil only focuses on three characters in any depth. Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson are best friends and law partners, who start up the office of Nelson and Murdock. Karen Page is brought in immediately to act as their secretary. This small group and the overly dramatic connections between them, are the heart of the series.

Matthew Murdock

Matthew Murdock, The Man Without Fear, the titular Daredevil. Matt is a blind lawyer by day, and a crime fighting superhero by night. He has a superhuman radar sense that gives him increased perception abilities, and a vast array of related (and unrelated) powers. He received his blindness and radar sense from a truck spilling nuclear waste onto him as a child, while he was trying to save an old man. Also as a child, he was kept inside by his father relentlessly, in an attempt to keep Matt safe and successful in school. Matt’s physical prowess and fighting abilities are a combination of his radar sense and an intense training regiment he engaged in as a youth, in defiance of his father’s will.

Matt’s father, Jonathan ‘Battling Jack’ Murdoch was a boxer, who knew the dangers and downsides of a life of fighting for survival. These drawbacks would eventually end Matt’s father’s life and inspire the creation of the Daredevil persona. “Battling” Jack Murdock was ordered to throw a fight by the mob boss known as The Fixer. He refuses to do so in part because his son was in attendance of the fight and he felt a need to set an example. Jack would be taken out in a hit organized by The Fixer for this, and subsequently Matt would create his alter ego. This all happens in the first issue, prior to the climactic finale.

While hunting down The Fixer, Daredevil gets the villain into a pursuit, on foot and barrel. In the excitement, the mob boss has a heart attack and dies, but reveals that it was his lackey, Slade, who actually pulled the trigger on Jack Murdock. Daredevil finishes the night by turning Slade over to the police, announcing his name as Daredevil and running off into the night, promising to return. It’s a bizarre and weirdly tragic story that in many ways would define Stan Lee’s run on the title.

In the well-known origin of Spider-Man, Peter Parker’s refusal to act against a criminal results in the heartbreaking death of his uncle. This instills in him the responsibility of using his powers when they can make a difference. For Matt the situation is a bit different, as he actively trains and equips himself with the goal of going against a specific person. He does so, and from his own view he is quite successful. There is little to no worry over the death of The Fixer, and Matt seems to be having more fun than anything else towards the end of his introduction. He does not labor over guilt from the death at his hands, instead he throws himself fully into the Daredevil alter ego, even when it is not convenient in his day to day life.

Taken at face value, after becoming Daredevil, Matt is a callous jerk who routinely acts in defiance of basic decision making. He is much more concerned with quips and flips than being effective. This of course is all in service of playing the part of bouncing, energetic superhero. In many ways this archetypal personality would be reflected years down the line in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, with the headliners of Iron Man, Doctor Strange, and Captain Marvel. The witty, headstrong protagonist is something the Marvel fan base will continue to gravitate to time and time again. There’s nothing all that unique about the characterization of Matt, as compared to other similar main characters that permeate the industry, especially at his origins. He becomes much more of a flawed individual, when viewed as a human who often hides his own intent and emotions. Sometimes from himself, intentionally or otherwise.

Matt experienced the terrible murder and loss of his father as well the traumatic accident of losing his sight early on in life. These events obviously deeply affect him, as he makes the decisions to train and reach physical peak, while running around doling out vigilante justice with billy clubs.This is clearly eccentric, but is also self sabotage, as his endeavors consistently jeopardize his day job of the ostensibly upstanding defense attorney. He is almost obsessed with his vigilantism, as he continually throws himself into mortal danger, risks his financial stability, and deceives those closest to him, all while gleefully offering never ending puns and sarcasm.

Accepting the main character’s behavior as erratic and manic makes the entire reading experience more enjoyable, and is encouraged by the plot. Future developments, such as the introduction of yet another alter ego for Matt Murdock further play into the idea that he is a bit more disconnected from reality than he realizes.

From the main presentation, it could be said Matt comes across as a boilerplate protagonist, a bit generic. This is subverted in a couple of notable ways, but foremost amongst them in terms of notoriety is the disability that spawns his superhuman abilities.

Despite it being his most famous characteristic, it can hardly be said that being blind is a focal point of the series in any way. Matt can’t see, but with his radar-sense it’s demonstrated that he has far greater and more precise perception than his sighted peers. This is the crux of his ability to be a superhero, but also could be seen to undermine his integrity a bit. Since he has the capabilities, he isn’t really needing the extra concern and care he is given from those around him. He is omitting parts of the truth.

Following that line of interpretation is shallow though, because the reality is those with disabilities are indeed capable, they just face individual obstacles that severely impede them. Matt does not go into depth on the real day to day hardships he faces, despite his radar-sense, but then he is not exactly the most self-aware at all. Matt as a character, much like the entire series, comes across more fleshed out when taking into account the struggles he, as a fictional personality, would omit when retelling. The small moral conundrums and stark dichotomies in Matt’s life come together to create someone who, at the very least, is an excellent vehicle for melodrama.

Foggy Nelson

The other half of the law office, Franklin ‘Foggy’ Nelson is Matt’s best friend as well as coworker. He is petty, jealous, and overall a bit immature. He constantly feels inadequate, comparing himself to Matt despite the fact they are of very similar means. Add on top his pining over their secretary Karen Page, who is more interested in both Matt Murdock and Daredevil each, and Foggy can come across as an unlikeable guy. Irrational at times, and frequently self-serving, the quirks of his character thankfully come across as lighthearted thanks to the light hearted tone of the series. The problematic nature of much of Foggy’s behavior is rendered at least comical and at most justified in relation to the context of many of the convoluted situations. Foggy deceiving his friend’s by pretending to be Daredevil is forgivable and funny when juxtaposed to the fact that Matt does the opposite on a daily basis.

Appearing slightly shorter and more portly than his superhero friend, Foggy’s realistic character design is a welcome rarity on the comics scene. Unfortunately this serves for a few cheap gags, but does differentiate Foggy from his superhero friend, and the usual muscle bound foes Daredevil goes up against. The limited cast in the series almost forces the story to push and pull the main characters around their respective moral spectrums, and being more reflective of the everyman works in Foggy’s favor.

The heart of the relationship between Matt and Foggy is complicated at times, but sort of redeems them both. His best friend is not just keeping him in the dark in an attempt to keep him safe, along the lines of Superman or Spider-Man. Instead Foggy’s bff is actively lying about his disability, and frequently using his powers irresponsibly or inappropriately. Daredevil consistently leads villains to the law office, and occasionally uses his super hearing to listen in on his colleagues private conversations, and then subsequently deceive them. While this spin is not the focus of the series, it does help to shine a redeeming light on a character some might find a bit off putting or bland at times.

Karen Page

The third member of the law office is secretary Karen Page. Coming across as relatively likable and normal, her backstory is certainly the least explored of the main cast. She is the typical comic book stereotype of a 1960’s woman, written by a man. At times immature and boy crazy, Karen can come across as juvenile frequently, despite her not being notably young or anything of the sort. In the contemporary X-Men series, Lee sometimes gets away with awkwardly misogynistic depictions of the singular woman character, Jean Grey, by specifying she is younger and less experienced than her teammates. Besides potentially an education in law gap, there is no real scapegoat in place for Karen.

Karen is immediately smitten with Matt Murdock, but laments the perceived inherent truth that a blind man could never marry a woman who can see. It’s a weird thought process that both Karen and Matt have, just patently refusing the idea of a blind person finding love. Along with her crush on Matt, she falls for both Foggy, Daredevil, and the idea that Foggy could be Daredevil.

Some of Karen’s thoughts and dialogues are seemingly results of a man trying to replicate those he has seen from others, but does not quite understand. A more practical depiction would likely touch on the power imbalance of both her bosses having romantic interest in her as soon as she is hired. Of course this is a superhero comic book from the 1960’s, and as mentioned previously there are only three main characters, so they each have to stretch and fill narrative slots. The constrictions of the format pad out the lesser writing job done for Karen, much like it softens the blow from some of the other two’s more outright malicious or nonsensical actions.

At the end of the first twenty four issues, Karen has a lot of tropes and associated baggage placed on her that has to be overlooked, but if that is possible, she has a few shining moments. She comes out a bit inconsistent and not always likable, but compared to many comic side characters and romantic interests particularly, Karen Page has a burgeoning personality and seems poised for positive character growth.

Year One

Daredevil comes right out of the gate stumbling. The first issue is drawn by Bill Everett, and while it is well done, it’s the only one he ends up completing. After the debut, Joe Orlando picks up the next three without too jarring of a change, but the first four issues as a whole leave a bit to be desired artistically. While completely inoffensive and passable, the art’s largest drawback is that it is seemingly trying to replicate Kirby and to an extent Ditko, to varying levels of success. Both Everett and Orlando’s Daredevil can look like a posed mannequin instead of an acrobat in motion more often than not.

The stilted depiction is accentuated by the signature flowery dialogue of Lee. There is a definite sense of trying to cram the product with content in the opening few issues. The scenes are rapid and all over the place, but filled with tons of text to stretch the reading time and each scene out longer. While fighting Electro, Daredevil manages to fly a spaceship into space and back down to Earth in the span of a couple of pages. These types of hijinks are the heart of this era of Daredevil. The tone is the epitome of classic costumed vigilantes and that has to be accepted and enjoyed for the series to have a positive impact in any way.

Bolstering the borderline corny setup is the monster of the week structure taken by the comics. While not uncommon to comics at the time, it is notable that storylines barely stretch over multiple issues, and the villain is usually unique for each of the first ten or so issues. This adds to the memorability of the villains since they get books entirely dedicated to both their origin and fight with Daredevil. However it can suppress interest in the established cast of the book, as they don’t make many lasting or impactful decisions during this stint. The small bits of lasting continuity tend to happen in crowded word balloons over a single page of conversation between Matt, Foggy, and/or Karen bookending the issue.

The plots can be overly melodramatic, but also compelling, such as when Karen insists Matt get an experimental surgery to cure his blindness. However since he is scared it could turn off his Daredevil powers he does not want to go through with it. The biggest drawback to these dilemmas specifically is that the crux of the problem tends to just be that Matt can’t date Karen because he is blind. The inherent idea from both of them that a relationship is out of the question is so manufactured for the plot it feels barely plausible. To be fair though,The world of Daredevil, and Marvel comics in general, does not necessarily thrive in the plausible.

One of the more notable aspects of the first half-dozen issues is Daredevil’s costume. He is sporting a garish yellow and black color scheme as opposed to his usual muted shades of red. The original suit is passable, and gets points for more resembling an acrobat costume, which is the inspiration. However as soon as the new crimson costume appears on the page, it feels more natural for The Man Without Fear. Along with the red apparel comes creator Wally Wood, who puts in a distinctly personal run on the title.

Still being the 60’s, there is no escaping the attempts to build off Kirby’s influential artistic style, but Wally Wood is the first on this series to make the style his own. Daredevil begins to move through the space a bit more like Spider-Man, making the dynamic motions appear more believable and natural on page. The ‘Marvel method’ of making comics (art done first, dialogue inserted second) clearly comes through with Wood, more so than the previous Orlando. Arguably there is a wide array of pages that are more understandable when simply parsing the art, and ignoring the dialogue altogether. Lee’s signature verbosity can just over explain exactly what has been drawn, and frequently slows the book to a crawl. Given the weight of the story which is held up by the art, it’s only slightly surprising to come across the tenth issue of Daredevil. Unlike the rest of the first fifty, this issue is not written by Stan Lee, but instead Wally Wood.

The tenth issue is a bit of a breath of fresh air, being distinct in style from the surrounding bunch. While clearly intentionally keeping with Lee’s signature tone, the plot of the issue is more complex to start. The story involves a group of villains, The Ani-Men, who should feel generic with names like Frog-Man and Ape-Man, but they each have a lot of charm. There is a more clear arc, and the writing feels more purposeful than the previous stories, which were more concerned with explaining the page rather than advancing the plot. There is a case to be made that the issue benefits from the singular writer/artist, as opposed to the usual tag team approach. The entire story is a setup to a mystery that will be concluded in the next one, while claiming that all the hints the readers need are there if they can find it. Even a small gimmick like that feels innovative given the context.

This is not to try and elevate the comic too much and say that it is some masterpiece, or even to say it is not clearly replicating Lee. However it shows, at the time especially, that Lee is not the only person who can effectively write his characters. It proves in some cases a fresh perspective brings new life to a series. By the next issue though it is clear these are not the takeaways, at least from those behind the scenes.

The eleventh issue, and all those that follow up to number fifty are given back to Stan Lee’s pen. Wally Wood departs from the book, and the second half of his story is given to Lee to wrap up, cliffhanger and all. In an awkward move, Lee decides to print in the comic a message to the readers about the situation. He proclaims that Wood left it to Lee to finish the story without giving him the ending or any notes. He was clearly both covering in case the story came out subpar, but was also publicly shaming Wood. The wrap-up is fine, and honestly would have been more enjoyable if it was not undercut by the meta commentary informing of its potential flaws.

At this point in the narrative, Matt decides to give Murdock and Nelson the same treatment Wood gave Marvel, and he gets out of there. Bob Powell does pencils with Wood, and does a few issues on his own in the aftermath of the departure.

John Romita Sr, comes in after Powell and brings a striking look to the book. Under Romita’s pen the comic gets darker, and more detailed in a borderline striking departure from form. This won’t last too long, but is another welcome shake up to the already formulaic series. The evolution and maturity of the stories does ramp up with the new art, and the second year of Daredevil ushers in a new rhythm for the title.

Year Two

Arriving at issue twelve of Daredevil, the Marvel Universe as a whole is picking up in quality and it’s noticeable. While Wood’s art was fantastic, the book just did not really ever take off on his run, possibly due to the creative challenges behind the scenes. For Romita and Lee, the chemistry seems to be there from the start, and the mindset on how to present the stories has changed up. Multi-issue arcs become quite common, and some light plot throughlines begin persisting and progressing instead of snapping back to a hard set status quo after each caper.

While the first year of comics had a tendency towards introducing and defeating villains in a single issue, the second year sees a lot more recurring antagonists. The building of storylines and slowly growing complexity of the series is starting, and welcomed. Prior, the narrative felt like it was spinning its wheels trying to establish a consistent status quo. In the second year, there is more of an emphasis on character development. Daredevil also starts to come up against obstacles that are simply too large for one man, fearful or not.

With his reputation growing, the story sees Daredevil develop into a more understood threat by those around him. His enemies, such as the Masked Marauder and the Owl, begin employing muscle to try and head off Daredevil instead of opting to face him themselves. While inspiring fear may bring him some level of respect and acknowledgment, it also highlights the sheer ineffectiveness and overall futile effort of Matt Murdock to deal with crime.

As one man, no matter how good he can punch and kick, he is unable to physically take down multi level crime organizations that are embedded into their communities. Arguably, Matt could have better luck utilizing his law degree to elicit local change, rather than punching people. This dichotomy of breaking and enforcing the law in order to better society is recurring and compelling, but rarely explored in depth.

Closing Arguments

The first two years of Daredevil’s existence are the epitome of a beginning comic book superhero. Tropes and plot contrivances are abundant, the tone swings from lighthearted to surprisingly dark, with Stan Lee’s wise cracking dialogue shepherding the story along. Compared to modern books, there is not too much from this classic that hasn’t been seen before. However with services like Marvel Unlimited, the series becomes as accessible as any app, and Daredevil comics become a fun and easy way to waste time instead of the horrors of social media.

For the most part, the audience for this in the current day is mostly folks capitalizing on nostalgia or interested in the history and development of Daredevil. Arguably there is a lot of fun to be had, the book just requires a certain approach and limited expectations. The reader who idolizes their hero, and wants a paragon of virtue or a stone cold badass, will be disappointed. However the reader who is ready for melodramatic plots, severely flawed characters, and is willing to skip some text in the never ending fights, will have a solid experience.

Citation Station

The Cover Original Article

Daredevil, Issues 1-24

1-9, 11-24 written by Stan Lee

10 written by Wally Wood

1 art by Bill Everett

1 art by Jack Kirby

2-4 art by Joe Orlando

5-10 art by Wally Wood

9-11 art by Bob Powell

12-19 art by John Romita Sr.

Marvel Comics: The Untold Story, by Sean Howe

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