Metacomics: fans vs. readers

The term “comics fans” gets a lot of static because of how it frames the comics audience’s relationship with the medium, or more specifically the superhero segment of it, in uncritical, boosterish terms. It’s a descriptor that, when deployed a certain way, is seen to cut off critical thinking in favor of the “what’s the shocking secret behind Supergirl’s origin?” level of engagement with the work. To the extent that criticism is present it tends to be of the “Wolverine would never say that” variety–in other words, it’s surface-level, concerned with plot and dialogue and whether characters look a certain accepted way rather than the formal aspects of the comic–and it tends to be offered as pressure to get things back on the right track, at which point the fandom can continue unabated. Plus, it’s a little strange linguistically: No one ever says “I’m a prose fan,” that sort of thing. For these reason I try to avoid calling the audience for comic books “comics fans” unless I’m deliberately referring to the segment of that audience that does look at comics in that way. I use “reader” rather than “fan” in other cases.

On the other hand, calling myself a “comics reader” is a woefully inadequate way to describe my relationship with the medium, which has a passion and a depth (whether or not that’s a good or bad thing) that a neutral word like “reader” doesn’t even come close to conveying. I’d no more think of myself as simply a “comics reader” than I would a “music listener” or “film viewer,” and I doubt many people who engage with any of those art forms would either. It would be disingenuous to suggest that I’m not a comics fan (or a rock nerd or a movie buff or a horror fanatic, for that matter). It’s probably a safe bet that anyone who’s felt moved to write about their opinions on comics (in particular or in general) is in fact a comics fan too.