Life of the Reader

Each of my previous entries has been about the textual qualities of pieces of literature. Though this blog is still in its infancy, I’d like to break from this emerging pattern and discuss issues outside the literary texts. Namely, I’d like to discuss comic books; not in what they say, but in how they’re read.

In my ten years of comic book reading, my interest in the subject has periodically waned, for any number of reasons. For a few years, in a regularly-oscillating pattern, I’d plunge full-force into the world comics, but I’d eventually tire and retreat back to the world of “real” literature. At the moment, I’m back in the world of comic books.

Many innovations have occurred in the comic book community since I last read comic books regularly. One such addition to the cultural landscape is the proliferation of comic-themed podcasts. I’ve been periodically listening to Around Comics while on my personal travels, and to my delight I discovered that they produced an episode entitled “Trades vs. Single Issues” that aired on September 6, 2007. My joy in listening to this episode, with all due respect, came less from the actual contents of the episode and more from the knowledge that I was not alone in thinking about these issues. Before I listened to this episode, I had no idea that “waiting for the trade” was as important an issue to comic book readers — and creators — as I had imagined.

When I was younger, I was very much into collecting comics. It was almost as important for me as reading comics, and the two were inextricable. The idea of reading a comic without owning it — and not having it bagged and boarded in a box under my desk — was unfathomable. Not only did I want to familiarize myself with every issue of Nightwing, I wanted to own each issue and be able to point each in my greater collection.

This fixation with owning and collecting has all but disappeared; mostly, I’m sure, as a function of my growing up and becoming less materialistic. Certainly, though, the advent of the trade paperback market is a large influence on how comics — both as physical objects and pieces of art — impact my life. In today’s comic book market, a reader can safely assume that every single story-arc in published in a mainstream comic book by a mainstream publishing company is eventually going to be reprinted in a collected edition, called a “trade paperback” or “trade.” When I started reading and collecting comic books, in 1997, there were no such expectations. For a series of comic books to be collected in a trade paperback, it would have to be fairly significant, or, financially speaking, very rare. If a group of comics was collected at all, it would likely be published years after the original publication date. This is not at all the current situation, as comic book readers can now expect prompt reprinting of comic book story-arcs soon after the original comics appeared on newsstands (or the shelves of comic book stores).

It might behoove me, at this point, to define the terms of my discussion, especially for readers unfamiliar with comic books. When I talk about trade paperbacks, I am not talking about so-called graphic novels. A graphic novel is, by most accounts, a long-form original comic book, not to be confused with traditional, twenty-two page “floppies” that are traditionally sold in supermarkets and drug stores. A Contract with God and Ghost World are prominent examples of graphic novels, and while they are sold in bookstores alongside trade paperbacks, they raise entirely different issues than the ones I’m discussing here.

My initial hesitation to get involved with trade paperbacks was based on the idea that they somehow represented to me a divergence from the original form and culture of comic books. I valued that comic books were a serialized form, much in the same way that I value the formal structure of television programs. To me, collected editions of comic books turned short-form media into long-form media, and changed the way the original work was read. I was also weary and cognizant of the fact that comic book creators were — and are — writing single -issue comic books “for the trade,” meaning that single-issue comic books were being written with the trade format in mind. This perversion of the art form disgusted me, and I wanted no part in supporting it.

Once I came to terms with not having to own or collect every single comic book, I realized that trades were especially beneficial to the industry and the reader. They are literally easier to read, because of their hard-backing and because they demand less delicate care than collectible comic books. Their lack of collectible value made them pieces of art to be read, not placed behind a glass case. Related to this, trades are easily accessible, as they can be placed on a bookshelf, which metaphorically raises the esteem of comic books to be equivalent to great works of prose fiction. Perhaps most importantly, trade paperbacks cost less than the original comic books they are collecting! As a mature reader, these aspects of collected editions made them infinitely more desirable than their floppier counterparts.

As for so-called “writing for the trade,” I came to realize that good writers write stories that are meant to be read in continuity with other issues. To create works of great depth, especially in an ongoing comic book title, the creator demands that their readers read issues in quick succession. While this has indeed changed mainstream comic book writing, I’d say that it has not done so for the worse. Many comic book readers, including those on Around Comics, suggest that some series are better read “in trade,” whereas others are best read in single issues, based on the pacing of the larger narrative. I see this as a minor issue, as a reader of trade paperback collected editions can chose to consume comics and whatever pace he chooses, even pretending, for the sake of pacing, that he was reading these issues in their original form. The same can be said for viewers who watch seasons of television shows on DVD. Some watch all at once, while other viewers pace themselves in an effort to replicate the original viewing practice.

My last observation on the trade paperback phenomenon involves the actual purchasing and owning of these collected editions. As I’ve said, mature readers see trades as a way to get away from the collector mentality, but I now wonder if I’ve merely shifted from collecting comic books to collecting trades. My current ideology is that I purchase trade collections of excellent comic book series — such as Sandman, Saga of the Swamp Thing, and Ex Machina — but that I’m perfectly happy frequenting my local library whenever I’m compelled to read a more conventional comic book, such as a superhero story. In an earlier post, I outlined my opposition to superhero comics as an overarching comic book genre, and thus I’d rather not support their creation with my wallet. That being said, I relish the opportunity to support publishers like Vertigo — who publish mature and intellectually-stimulating series — with my purchases. On a related note, these series are all self-referential, and the reader is compelled to constantly flip through old issues when reading new ones to fully understand the larger aspects of these stories. For all of these reasons, I find trades to be invaluable.