Tales of Syzpense #64
"Born Again" again, random comic-related distractions, and a Spinner Rack of Despair
There’s a scene in James Cameron’s Titanic that has always stuck with me: there’s a fancy party going on, people are dressed in their assorted finery, everyone is having a good time. A few of the guests on the boat are out on the deck, enjoying the clear, frigid night air. They watch as the massive cruise ship gets a little too close to an iceberg, scraping some chunks of ice off it and onto the deck of the ship. Everything otherwise seems the same. The party continued, the partygoers oblivious to the damage that would soon affect all of them.
While it’s unhelpful doomspeak to think that America is going to meet the same fate as that other unsinkable ship, the couple days after the election have felt like that scene — in the moment, things look the same: my dog wakes up and only cares only about being fed and walked; the sun still shines; friends and loved ones are okay. It’s all outwardly okay in the moment.
But the real damage will come soon enough, and I don’t know how to be ready or how to assure loved ones who have so many more specific and legitimate worries than I do that things will be okay. It’s hard to know that half the country voted for the cruelty, ill-conceived plans, and denial of science, education, and so many other things without even getting into the complete lack of character in the felonious figurehead of that movement.
Our tendency is always to tell each other it’ll be okay, but I think it’s harmful to offer platitudes like that at this point. Instead, it’s more helpful to try figure out what to do next; to try to keep defeatist thoughts out of our heads; to try not dwell on the fact that so many people are okay with—or want—what’s coming; to figure out how to support each other in whatever ways we can.
After the results of the 2016 election, English folk/punk singer Frank Turner released an album called Be More Kind, and in the punkiest song on the album, “1933,” had a lyric that went
“If I was of the greatest generation I'd be pissed/
Surveying the world that I built slipping back into this/
I'd be screaming at my grandkids: ‘We already did this’"
Well, goddamn if we didn’t already do this eight years ago now, too, gramps. But we don’t have grandkids to scream at, and I know it’s exhausting, completely enervating, to think that we have to scream and fight all over again. To know that the chaos, anxiety, and actual pain that’s going to be inflicted on people I care about is coming as surely as the icy water that helped sink that cruise ship.
A third pop-culture reference occurred to me this week, too. I’ve been re-reading Daredevil: Born Again, my all-time favorite superhero storyline, for an upcoming project, and while I realize it’s probably not healthy filtering all my feelings about the election through the pop-culture detritus lodged in my head, I can’t help thinking about this scene from that series:
I don’t know. Like everyone, I’ve got nothing salient to offer right now. This is who we are right now, and in so many ways that weren’t always as surface-apparent, it’s who we’ve always been. We as a majority now don’t care about felonies or assaults on women’s bodies and rights or fomenting of insurrection or the general coarsening of our culture and how we interact with one another, not if the price of bacon gets higher than we think it should get. Someone has to pay for that! And lots of the wrong people will.
We don’t have to settle for it always being this way but we sure are aware of where we stand in the moment.
Distractions
Self-promotion once again feels terrible and unproductive, but if I learned anything from the last time, trying to stay plugged in and fully informed and online and hyper-vigilant all combine to create the perfect conditions for a breakdown. I don’t recommend that for anyone, and I can’t approach things like that again. But more to the point, we can’t let them steal this from us, too.
So I cling to my community of fair-minded and wonderfully talented and inspiring comic book creators, readers, publishers, and retailers, an ecosystem that has more often than not lifted me back up when I needed it (even while also knocking me down at the same time. It’s complicated at times). And I don’t think we do ourselves any favors by not talking about the things we’re making or are excited about. It’s necessary. But it does feel a little hollow right now. At any rate:
I’ll be at the Comic-Con Museum in San Diego this Saturday, at their one-day SAM (Storytelling Across Media) event, doing a panel at 11:30 and signing copies of my two new Marvel releases.
My first issue as part of the Weird Tales family is up for pre-order now. There are some great talents in this magazine, as in all of them, but if you want a feature about swamp monsters great and small across all forms of media, well, come for the rest but please also enjoy my “Born in the Bayou” feature, too.
I had a great talk last week with Gemstone’s Jeff Vaughn for Scoop about my Origins of Marvel Comics deluxe edition.
The Comics Beat also had a nice feature about Origins.
Syzygy/Image’s coming Dread the Halls horror anthology, in which I have a story alongside artist Lee Ferguson, has its final order cut-off on Monday. You can give it another look here and then if you like what you see, let your retailers know you want one. Or more than one, that’s fine, too—there are lots of great covers on this one, after all.
My last convention of the year will be a little one-day affair in Scottsdale AZ on November 24 alongside TMNT overlord Kevin Eastman and Locke & Key (and so much more) colorist Jay Fotos. I’m bringing some special stuff to that one to try to end the year in style.
Finally, my Mighty Marvel Calendar Book comes out next Tuesday, and ahead of that, I offered up this piece, “Dig These 13 Magnificent Illustrations From the MIGHTY MARVEL CALENDAR BOOK”.
Lessons from Holidays Past
As we move into the holiday season, it’s important to remember that even the Burgermeister Meisterburger eventually died off.
Spinner Rack of Despair
I know, quitting isn’t an option, giving up isn’t going to happen, and washing your hands of all of it isn’t possible. But for this week only, well, I Quit. I Can’t. I’m Done For. (with a tip of the hat to The Man With a Hat, who shared a few examples of the latter two cover themes a while back. I know I did an “I Quit” spinner rack before but these are different images — it seems lots of heroes eventually reach their breaking point and want to give it all up… before they ultimately resume the fight.
Available Now!
"This is who we are right now, and in so many ways that weren’t always as surface-apparent, it’s who we’ve always been."
Succinctly stated. I spent election day pulling a 15 hour shift as a poll worker, and collapsed from physical and emotional exhaustion when I got home. When I saw the news Wed morning, I'm not ashamed to say I had an actual breakdown and started crying. Even though I was prepared for the possibility, I wasn't expecting the sheer level of support for his brand of cruelty, hatred, and treason. I have nothing positive to say at this point. Like many others, I just need time to grieve and take of my physical and mental health before I'm in any position to help out in any meaningful way.
Well said, Chris. Meant to say the other week: great work with the Project 2025 comic. Sending love and good vibes from across the pond. Keep going, keep fighting. All the best!