Self Inflection and the Single Issue- Trade Ya!

I have this regular habit of leaving comics, Wednesday after Wednesday, to collect into a nice little tidy pile on the side of the bed. It’s the kind of appearance you expect from a Home Decor magazine…perfectly lined books and magazines, which are never. Ever. Touched. I don’t let these tower to shameful points because I’m excited about how cute it looks. No. I do intend to read them. And eventually I do, when that pile topples over and falls right into my bowl of serial.

I’m a binge reader, I admit it. When it comes to comics, I’m the happiest of campers if I can just devour as opposed to taking polite, weekly bites. It’s more gentle to take in I suppose, but I prefer to be so overwhelmed that I feel like I’ve been completely abandoned when I’ve finished a run. Heartbroken, even. I like to fall in love with a story, otherwise I feel it to be irrelevant, and lacking in any kind of inflective effect. I don’t so much need to know what happens to the story next, but what happens to me as I read it. At the moment, I’m working my way through Matt Fraction’s Uncanny X-Men, and I’m nervous for it to end. This nervousness is irrational, since I know there’ll be plenty of new things to read (elevator, going up- pick any floor on the tower of comics) but I love nothing more than becoming intensely invested in a story. When I first discovered Jeff Lemire’s Sweet Tooth, there had already been 25 or so issues out. Nothing like a swan-dive to wake you up to life.

Perhaps that’s the difference between collectors and me. I would not say I collect comics. I enjoy a trade much more than a series. Having to rebag each individual issue, sift through the advertisements, and
(the worst) wait another month to find out what happens next is a strenuous exercise for my somewhat distracted long-term memory to handle. When I’m allowed to fall into a story and not have to wait for the safety net between one issue and another, I can really honestly fall in love with the characters, and find myself in all of them. When I wait, it becomes a bit harder. The story becomes dulled by the tedious events that take place in the days between. I suppose the main purpose of this habit is to really feel the effect of the aftershock. When I read a single issue from a story arc week by week, it ends, I sip my tea, and move on to the next week. With the discipline to wait (which I don’t always have), I have a much harder blow, and my tea just sits there getting cold while I hold my face for a while trying to decipher what just happened and who I am now. By the time I even remember it’s there, I have to brew a new one. This is obviously a metaphor, I typically don’t like to waste tea.
I love when I discover comics that have long since been around, and are now regularly purchased in trade form. Exibit A- Y: The Last Man, by Brian K. Vaughan and Pia Guerra. It was read like a novel, and when the last page passed, I did nothing. Not physically, at least. This is the ultimate in self-inflection. To have this feeling of something so amazing still whirling around your head packs such a loaded punch that the momentum causes everything within to shift a little bit. I see things differently, for reasons I can’t define. You weren’t so much left behind, but left with a ghost of something wonderful. It’s a kind of magic, as Freddie once said. It’s something that makes me feel like doing something with my life. It might take a while, but things eventually do happen. Plowing through Geoff John’s Blackest Night gave me this sensation of discovery. I became entranced with personified emotions at war with one another. It’s actually some really deep territory, and trying to nibble at such a morsel so slowly makes me grumpy. Sure, as a plant, you can give yourself delicate little sips of hydration day by day…or you can leave yourself to the mercy of a terrifyingly monstrous rainstorm that lasts for weeks, leaving no trace of dirt unquenched. That’s how I feel about reading comics. Take it or leave it.

I really do enjoy getting single issues, but it’s mostly due to two things: The first is the tradition of going in on a Wednesday and talking about nothing with the shopkeeps and feeling great upon leaving. The second is knowing that I’m supporting artists. That’s a big one. However, the purchase of trades is still effective, as far as support (financial and emotional), and here’s the biggest and bestest part about the trade: you can share it. That’s not to say you can’t share single issues, but being handed a trade is powerful. There’s a dense mass of beauty and information right there in one book, and should you choose to read on, there are more of them, all just as heavy, action-packed, and ad-free, not to mention full of bonus artwork and valuable words from the artists. I understand that most people who collect and read their comics weekly still can experience a sense of self-inflection, and I probably could too, if only I were willing to train myself to do so. It’s a kind of art, isn’t it. Perhaps soon I’ll learn the ways of the collector. But if I don’t, I’ll still be seen at the store on Wednesday, and I’ll still be reading the comics I love.