I’ve spent a lot of time over the last 6 months “getting into Star Wars”, which mostly consisted of watching the 7-season animated series Star Wars: The Clone Wars. For casual viewers who wish to dive from the movies into the greater extended Star Wars universe, the Clone Wars animated series is the most accessible jumping-off point. An exhaustive review of the series is a topic for a different time, but after watching all 66.5 hours of the series, I can say: 1. I don’t recommend it for everyone, and 2. I was left hungry for more Star Wars content.
The next logical step seemed to be diving into the world of Star Wars comic books, which is vast. The simplest (and least expensive way) to take this plunge seemed to be through a Marvel Unlimited subscription, but the $9.99/month sticker price—while much cheaper than paying $9.99 for each physical comic book—gave me pause: do I really want to sink more time and money into learning about fake worlds that have very little to do with our own? I was originally motivated to consume more Star Wars content as a way to bond with specific friends of mine, who I knew would appreciate it if I took an interest in what they like. It seemed like I had performed my obligation as a friend, but now my motivations have changed! My choice is now: Do I feed my newfound hunger for endless Star Wars content, or do I starve myself until the desire dissipates?
Then, this week, an intriguing article came into my inbox: When Disney Owns The National Myths. This author’s gripping premise is that the Arthurian legend is England’s shared, national myth, and that comic book series are the corollary in the United States. Allow me to quote it at length:
"[T]he point to the Arthurian legend is that it is both a narrative and the reflection of a culture creating and propagating its own definition. It's like a daily affirmation, only with strange women lying in ponds distributing swords as a basis for a system of government.
“And thus [...] it hit me: the United States of America's national mythos is being crafted and iterated in our comic book stories.
"The Arthurian legend always has a dude, his wife, and a treacherous nephew, but its enduring appeal is fed by the story's variations. There are side epics about romances, quests, family succession drama, coming of age, or jockeying for power in a golden era. There is the definition and constant renegotiation of what it means to be part of this thing that's larger than yourself."
The author is focusing not on comic books per se, but on comic book stories: movies and television shows such as WandaVision, The Justice League, and Thor: Ragnarok are the primary media from which she argues. And this makes sense: high-budget movies take up greater real estate in our cultural commons than do the story arcs of literal comic books, themselves.
Except for that this week, a literal comic book did end up taking up some real estate in the cultural commons, in the form of this article from Vice: Captain America Goes to War with Jordan Peterson. The gist of the news here is that Captain America—the comic book series—is currently analyzing the phenomenon of young men being emotionally pandered to, mostly online, by people who generally have far-right-of-center world philosophies, and the problems that that pandering and subsequent influencing can lead to. I had no idea that comic books undertook this level of intellectual heavy lifting, or that they attempted to engage in cultural critique.
I am a big fan of the graphic novel Watchmen (that’s the farthest into the world of comic books I’ve ever ventured), but I have always assumed it was such a well-regarded book because it was singular in its depth. This news article seemed to suggest that’s not the case. The Captain America news story makes more sense when it’s explained that Captain America is currently being written by essential American cultural critic and MacArthur “Genius” Grant recipient Ta-Nehisi Coates, whose writing on race in America over the past half-decade is generally regarded to be the pinnacle of responsible engagement on the topic. But the Vice story also expounds on the history of Captain America’s role in American cultural comment:
"Both [Ben] Shapiro and Peterson don’t understand Captain America’s post-war legacy at all. Rogers has been a symbolic vehicle for writers to criticize America’s power structures for decades now. When fascism, hate, and demagoguery rear their ugly heads, Rogers will be there in the comic to smack them down and explain why they’re bad.
"Writers have always portrayed Rogers as a New Deal Democrat, a hero from a forgotten era, the kind of American they don’t make anymore. When conservative thought leaders talk about the glory of America’s past, they’re talking about people like Captain America. Rogers battled Nixon during Watergate, protected civilians against U.S. troops in Vietnam, fought for Civil Rights and once faced down an evil incarnation of himself and delivered a rousing speech to a troubled nation."
Captain America has been “a symbolic vehicle for writers to criticize America’s power structures for decades now”?! Who knew! This is the kind of stuff I want to be reading. Last week, my attitude towards the U.S. power structures was consumed by this article on the vanishing of traditional liberalism, as well as critiques (some valid, most incomprehensible) of the absolutely massive infrastructure legislation currently working its way through congress. Thinking about Captain America as a “New Deal Democrat” is giving me the warm and fuzzies deep down in my rotten, Democratic Socialist heart. God Bless the U.S.A.
I’ve taken the plunge on Marvel Unlimited, and I’m enjoying it immensely so far. I’m learning more information about Darth Maul than I ever knew existed. And I’m excited to finally show up to high-brow parties with an affirmative answer to “have you read anything by Ta-Nehisi Coates?”.
But I also need some help: I’m still very new at this, and I know very few other people who read comic books! So if you are into this sort of thing, please reach out to me and tell me all about it, and what I should be reading.