After reading Marvel Comics since 1976, at the age of eight, I am officially cutting any reader loyalty to the company.
For me, the final straw was tonight after picking up one of Marvel’s few remaining boosk for which I have any interest: “Captain America,” written by Ed Brubaker.
Since the splashy demise of Steve Rogers in 2007, Cap’s mantle has been up by his old WWII-era pal Bucky, who’s done very capably in the role. So much, in fact, that I had become grateful of Rogers’ death, as it allowed Cap’s mythology to grow in new directions. Yet the final panel of “Cap” #37 (spoiler alert) released this week, showing a scarred, and possibly living Steve Rogers, threw any hope for such growth into the sewer.
Sure, it could be a stunt. Plus, the notion of superheroes returning from the grave is hardly new nor unexpected.
But what really roasts my walnuts is Marvel apparently taking up the credo of no positive character development going unpunished. Instead, chief editor Joe Quesada would apparently fall back on what has become is unenviable hallmark: tired, soapy plots aimed at ten year-old boys.
Yet what Joe fails to realize is that most modern comic readers—the same who learned to love comics in the ‘70s and ‘80s, as he did—have grown up, as has their brain power. And expecting these now-adult readers to fall for the same hackneyed plot twists they did at age ten, or worse (“One More Day,” “Secret Invasion”) is insulting.
Thus, upon hitting my FNCS tonight, I struck all Marvel titles from my weekly sub list.
Forgive the soapboxing, but my self-respect can’t take it anymore.