Big news in the comics world.
Marvel President Bill Jemas is out. Not out out–he still works for Marvel–but he doesn’t seem to be in charge of anything anymore, at least insofar as any of us on the outside will notice. A lot’s been said about the pros and cons of this development, and I think it’s worth noting that virtually everyone worth listening to (Deppey Johnston Hastings Alien Naso et al O’Brien) is both grateful for many aspects of Jemas’s tenure and worried about what will happen now that it’s over. So am I. Jemas had his drawbacks–constantly baiting the retailers (even if he was in the right 85% of the time), constantly baiting the fanboys (even if he was in the right 95% of the time), coming up with a storytelling formula that (though superior to a lot of storytelling methods used in supercomics) simply should not have been applied in a needlessly Procrustean manor to virtually every comic line-wide–but he presided over one of the most dramatic reversals of fortune for a mainstream comics company since Stan, Jack, and Steve birthed Marvel Comics As We Know It back in the early 60s.
Marvel now produces a whole bunch of books that are both financially successful and extremely enjoyable, and a handful of books that are as good as superhero comics get. Their stock has increased in value something like 1000%, and the company is the pace-setter for the industry. The fanboy and fanboy-retailer influence is at a delightfully low ebb, and Marvel (thanks mainly to the movies, but at least in part to the fact that the comics aren’t a total goddamn joke anymore) is a cultural player. It’s difficult to pin down how much of this is attributable to Jemas as opposed to editor-in-chief Joe Quesada, key editors like Axel Alonso, or key creators like Grant Morrison and Brian Michael Bendis (though it seems safe to say that it was respected editors like Quesada and Alonso or top-notch creators like Morrison and Bendis, and not a former Fleer Trading Cards executive, that attracted talent to the company). But President Jemas oversaw all that, and in at least the case of the Ultimate line of revamped big-gun superheroes, had a direct hand in some of the best ideas the company’s had in years and years. Most indications are that, with Joe Quesada still in place and friend-of-Q Dan Buckley stepping in to Jemas’s old slot, little will change except that the most grating aspects of the Jemas era will be gone. (Some folks worry that a “don’t rock the boat” mentality will arise out of fear of ruining potential movie franchises, but for a variety of reasons–the fact that a little comic seen by a hundred thousand people ain’t gonna affect a multi-hundred-million-dollar movie one way or the other not least among them–I just don’t see that happening.) So in closing, happy trails, Bill Jemas. You played a big role, whatever it actually happened to be, in getting me back into comics. Thank you.
Meanwhile, Fantagraphics has formally announced the details of its upcoming Complete Peanuts series… and I’m worried. Not by the content itself, obviously, which is just wonderful and will be a perennial Christmas-gift sure-thing (the early years that don’t quite look like what people think of when they think of Peanuts might be a problem, but hopefully not much of one). No, I’m worried about the design, by acclaimed comix creator Seth. To get straight to the point, it looks like it was created to deliberately alienate the average person who enjoys Charlie Brown, Snoopy et al. Despite what Seth–and Fantagraphics owners Gary Groth and Kim Thompson–must think, I guaranTEE you that when Joe Peanuts Fan thinks of the strip, “austere,” “quiet,” and “melancholy” aren’t what leaps to mind, as they apparently did for the designer, who uses those words to describe the work he did. No, what most folks think of is that joyous Vince Guaraldi Trio piano music, with Snoopy dancing merrily with his nose in the air, and a bright-yellow-shirted Charlie Brown getting that football tugged away from him by a bright-blue-dressed Lucy. And when they pick up volume one of The Complete Peanuts, they’ll be looking at colors and design suitable for a repackaging of Maus. It’s the kind of decision that only people immersed in the insular world of alt-comix hero worship–one just as limited and limiting as its more gaudy spandex-clad equivalent–could make. Let me put it this way: If you were a little kid, or a grown-up interested in feeling like a little kid, would this appeal to you in any way?
This is not good.