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A review by erickibler4
Marvel Comics: The Untold Story by Sean Howe
5.0
I'm so verklempt!
This book is on the one hand, a great trip down memory lane, and on the other hand, an open-eyed visit to the sausage factory. As an longstanding fan of Marvel Comics, I can't separate myself from my fandom enough to be able to tell you what this book can say to a non-fan. But to me, it brings back a lot of memories of characters and creators I've grown up (and into middle age) with. These characters and stories have been the backdrop of my life since, as a young DC fan, I first picked up the odd Marvel issue that always had "CONTINUED NEXT ISH! 'NUFF SAID" at the bottom of the last panel.
I love the razzmatazz energy of Sixties Marvel, led by wildly imaginative artist/plotter Jack Kirby, extrovert/huckster/scripter/editor Stan Lee, introvert libertarian Steve Ditko and the rest. I also love the current era of wide-screen panels and smart, savvy dialogue. But perhaps my favorite era was the anything goes era of the early seventies, in which superheroes, swamp monsters, vampires, werewolves, demon-possessed motorcycle daredevils, blaxploitation private eyes, spacemen, kung-fu masters, and jungle lords all vied for attention and interacted with one another.
You'll feel bad for a lot of the comic creators whose stories are told in this book. There's Kirby, who should have been a bazillionnaire, having created most of the characters who've made hundreds of millions for Marvel. There's Stan, who, although he did just fine financially, left the only thing he was ever good at (scripting and editing) in the early seventies and became an irrelevant sideshow barker, schmoozing with C-list Hollywood talent all through the 70s and 80s, until other, more connected and skilled negotiators achieved the movie dreams Stan had always coveted. Probably the saddest thing about Stan is his failure to appreciate the value of what he did. He still, at age 89, regrets not becoming a novelist or screenwriter. There were writers Steve Englehart, Doug Moench, Don McGregor, and Steve Gerber, who brought new sophistication to the comics of the seventies, but who (to a man) all got raw deals.
You'll sneer at the venal, clueless corporate raiders who asserted their whims on the company in the eighties and nineties, and nearly destroyed it, although they lined their pockets nicely on their way out, as such people do. May history forget all of their names. I won't name them here.
You'll nod your head in recognition at an example of the Peter Principle when Jim Shooter takes charge as editor-in-chief. He had always been a decent comics writer, but as an editor, he was a petty martinet who imposed storytelling rules that stifled creativity for years.
If you lived through the turn of the millennium as a Marvel fan like I did, you'll reluctantly give due credit to company president Bill Jemas, who though considered unlikable by most fans at the time, was probably responsible for the junking of the creatively stultifying Comics Code Authority, and goosed the company into being more adventurous with content.
One writer who gets short shrift in the book is Peter David, who maintained a high level of quality on the books he wrote throughout the mediocre eighties and nineties. A true unsung hero.
This book is on the one hand, a great trip down memory lane, and on the other hand, an open-eyed visit to the sausage factory. As an longstanding fan of Marvel Comics, I can't separate myself from my fandom enough to be able to tell you what this book can say to a non-fan. But to me, it brings back a lot of memories of characters and creators I've grown up (and into middle age) with. These characters and stories have been the backdrop of my life since, as a young DC fan, I first picked up the odd Marvel issue that always had "CONTINUED NEXT ISH! 'NUFF SAID" at the bottom of the last panel.
I love the razzmatazz energy of Sixties Marvel, led by wildly imaginative artist/plotter Jack Kirby, extrovert/huckster/scripter/editor Stan Lee, introvert libertarian Steve Ditko and the rest. I also love the current era of wide-screen panels and smart, savvy dialogue. But perhaps my favorite era was the anything goes era of the early seventies, in which superheroes, swamp monsters, vampires, werewolves, demon-possessed motorcycle daredevils, blaxploitation private eyes, spacemen, kung-fu masters, and jungle lords all vied for attention and interacted with one another.
You'll feel bad for a lot of the comic creators whose stories are told in this book. There's Kirby, who should have been a bazillionnaire, having created most of the characters who've made hundreds of millions for Marvel. There's Stan, who, although he did just fine financially, left the only thing he was ever good at (scripting and editing) in the early seventies and became an irrelevant sideshow barker, schmoozing with C-list Hollywood talent all through the 70s and 80s, until other, more connected and skilled negotiators achieved the movie dreams Stan had always coveted. Probably the saddest thing about Stan is his failure to appreciate the value of what he did. He still, at age 89, regrets not becoming a novelist or screenwriter. There were writers Steve Englehart, Doug Moench, Don McGregor, and Steve Gerber, who brought new sophistication to the comics of the seventies, but who (to a man) all got raw deals.
You'll sneer at the venal, clueless corporate raiders who asserted their whims on the company in the eighties and nineties, and nearly destroyed it, although they lined their pockets nicely on their way out, as such people do. May history forget all of their names. I won't name them here.
You'll nod your head in recognition at an example of the Peter Principle when Jim Shooter takes charge as editor-in-chief. He had always been a decent comics writer, but as an editor, he was a petty martinet who imposed storytelling rules that stifled creativity for years.
If you lived through the turn of the millennium as a Marvel fan like I did, you'll reluctantly give due credit to company president Bill Jemas, who though considered unlikable by most fans at the time, was probably responsible for the junking of the creatively stultifying Comics Code Authority, and goosed the company into being more adventurous with content.
One writer who gets short shrift in the book is Peter David, who maintained a high level of quality on the books he wrote throughout the mediocre eighties and nineties. A true unsung hero.