TEDxSalford

Reading Comics Is Not A Waste Of Time

I watched Scott McCloud’s TED2005 talk on comics with interest. He examines comics as a form of storytelling, including a look at where they came from, and where they might be going. The delivery of his talk shares some elements with the way a story is told in a comic, with a snappy succession of images supplementing his words. But maybe there’s a more fundamental hurdle to leap before you can enjoy it.

Comics. They’re daft, aren’t they? They’re for kids, right?

Comics don’t form part of the UK’s mainstream culture. Enjoy the recent Dark Knight trilogy? Of course you did, it was incredible. (By and large: bit of a dip in film two if you ask me.) If a colleague asked you whether you’ve seen The Dark Knight Rises I’m guessing you wouldn’t raise an eyebrow at the question. But if they asked out of the blue whether you’ve read the latest Batman comic? It’s acceptable to ask whether you’ve seen the film because that’s not “silly”, in spite of the fact that you’re watching a man who has decided the most effective way to fight crime is to become a bat. But talking about its source material is a different matter.

It’s not the case elsewhere. I was recently in Brussels where bold, striking comic strip images are scattered on walls around the city. At the Belgian Comic Strip Centre there is evident pride in the medium which gave us the thrilling, hilarious adventures of Hergé’s Tintin (if you’ve never read one of these you’re missing out), and I’ve seen billboards advertising graphic novels in Paris – I doubt that’s ever happened in London.

I carried the same prejudice as most of my friends when it came to comics until I was tricked into reading them at the age of 23 by following a TV show I’d fallen in love with as a teenager.  This was a wittily scripted, genre-busting show that had an awful lot to offer – a knowingly silly romp through a different adventure every week but one still capable of seriously exploring issues as dark as drug addiction and rape at times.  The show is Buffy the Vampire Slayer.  What did you think I was going to say?

Popular and/or cult franchises often attract spin-offs or fan fiction, but this was neither. In 2007 the series continued in comic form, with the creator of the show at the helm, writing much of it. It was the canonical continuation of a story I had to leave behind in 2003. And in spite of this I ignored it, because it was comics. Comics; they’re not for serious people are they? No stranger to the “geek” tag that comes with enjoying cult TV like Buffy, comics still seemed a step too far. But when I finally broke I was delighted to find that the soul of the show I loved had survived the leap between mediums intact.

Buffy’s not for everyone but I think if books are, and films are, and television is, then comics are too. After all, they’re simply a different vehicle for storytelling. Here’s what you may not realise about comics:

Comics are OLD

Storytelling via “a pictorial progression of events” has ancient roots, as you’ll see from McCloud’s talk, or indeed by checking out Trajan’s column or ancient Egyptian art.

Comics aren’t all about superheroes

This is a bit of an unfortunate impression given by the swathes upon swathes of superhero titles popular here and in America. If you’re not averse to sci-fi but find people flying around in capes a little hard to swallow, check out Y: The Last Man, written by Brian K Vaughan. The premise is that all males on earth suddenly die, bar the protagonist and his pet monkey. Or take a look at the evocative, moody stylings of The Li’l Depressed Boy by S. Steven Struble and Sina Grace; surprisingly relatable in spite of his rag-doll face.

Comics aren’t just for kids

Some are, and of course that’s no bad thing. But comics don’t restrict themselves to dealing with lightweight issues: for example Fun Home by Alison Bechdel, an award winning graphic novel based on a highly personal account of life with her closeted homosexual father prior to his death.

My initial hesitancy about indulging in the comics world was ultimately about risking adding another niche, “geeky” passion to the list. I can’t speak for other countries but being proud of your passions can be difficult in the UK. (Unless your passion is football, in which case it’s perfectly acceptable to stroll drunkenly through the streets bellowing at the top of your voice about your team’s supremacy at antisocial hours. You don’t see me doing that just because Daenerys‘ dragons burnt the bad guy in the latest Game of Thrones. Not often anyway.) I don’t think reading the odd comic has damaged my kudos too badly, but if it has I’ve been more than repaid for opening my mind to them. It’s a storytelling form that is at once cinematic and literate (whose origins pre-date both cinema and literature), at a fraction of the budget needed for the latest blockbuster.

Still that hesitancy can be hard to shake. Back in the TV world, Star Trek: The Next Generation never caught me the first time round, but as I’ve come to see the debt owed to it by a few of the shows I like I’ve been dabbling with giving it a go. I feel a similar reluctance as I first did towards comics. It’s a self-defence mechanism – I’m carrying enough burdensome badges of geekiness while trying to appear well-rounded to society – to risk adding “Trekkie” to that list is surely foolishness.

Who am I kidding?  Beam me up.

P.S. Worried you’re time-wasting?  This is not a waste of time and neither is this.