Marvelling at Captain Marvel #17

Or the symbiotic relationship between comics, creators, and their fans.
By Kelly Sue DeConnick, Filipe Andrade, Jordie Bellaire; Marvel Comics

Captain Marvel #17 is one of those comics I can't stop thinking about. It features gorgeous artwork by Filipe Andrade and Jordie Bellaire and hits the rarified air of a comic worth purchasing for the art alone. The story is full of charm, humour, and jaw-droppingly perfect moments with the rich character work and relationships that are the foundation of the series. It's a really fun, really emotionally satisfying issue of comics. But the reason that I can't stop thinking about CM#17 is that it's this amazing meditation on the relationship between superheroes comics and their fans. And this is completely worth trying to unpack.

There will be *SPOILERS* for Captain Marvel #17 in this post.

I'm a fan of Captain Marvel, I think it's been a really great comic by A-list creators which has pretty consistently told really great stories. When not dealing with crossovers, team Captain Marvel have turned in some of the best issues of comics I've read. And I'm clearly not alone in this: Captain Marvel has a fiercely loyal fanbase, The Carol Corps. A group of readers who don't just read Captain Marvel but engage with it, create Captain Marvel fanart, cosplay as the Captain, knit Captain Marvel woolies, and permanently scar their body with tattoos from the series. A group of people who gather in online spaces, including the really terrific one curated by series writer Kelly Sue DeConnick, to share and celebrate Captain Marvel and the series creators.

Captain Marvel #17 explicitly deals with this aspect of fandom. The premise of the issue is that the folks of New York City, in return for Captain Marvel's efforts to save the city from Yon-Rogg (Events from The Enemy Within Corssover), are throwing a rally of gratitude for Carol Danvers. This is literally a comic where the fans of Captain Marvel gather to celebrate their hero and show their appreciation of events which had taken place in a comic book. These are in continuity characters doing what we as fans do online after every issue.

Inherent in the nature of superhero comics, particularly Captain Marvel, is an element of aspiration. These are stories about being better than mortal, about fighting for an ideal, and about helping people. As a result superheroic comics can be very inspirational to fans. (Or maybe they just attract people for whom inspirational stories resonate...) And Captain Marvel has managed to be a pretty inspirational comic to a lot of people. With themes of heroism, particularly heroic women and relationships, Captain Marvel has become a kind of rallying flag for a group of women geeks who are often ignored or treated poorly by comics. Moreover, The Carol Corps, inspired by Captain Marvel, the creators, and each other have leveraged their fandom into a force for good by donating to charities and disaster relief funds. It's pretty damn cool to see.

Captain Marvel #17 acknowledges the aspirational nature of the hero fan relationship as well. In this case the comic uses the relationship between Carol and Kit, her young fan and neighbour, as the lens to frame this. The ongoing comic and CM#17 explicitly show that Kit sees Captain Marvel as a hero and that she clearly looks up to her. Captain Marvel #17 also has a scene where Kit stands up to a bully picking on a cosplaying friend in a way that feels very much inspired by the heroism of Carol. It's a pretty great scene that I think really strikes at the ideal of fanspiration.

The reality of comics is that they are a business: people ultimately have to buy comics for comics to be made. Creators have to be remunerated for their labour, printing and publishing costs have to be covered, and, especially for Marvel and DC comics, profits have to be realized. A book like Captain Marvel has a mandate to sell at a certain level to justify its existence. Failure to find an adequate audience ensures the books cancellation. In an environment where every new series and number one comes with a burst in sales, Captain Marvel exists during a time when there may even be an incentive to cancel under-performing, or perceived to be under-performing, titles. What this means is that for Captain Marvel to have her amazing adventures, for the creators to tell her stories, fans have to buy her comic. Captain Marvel needs her fans to be our hero.

Captain Marvel #17 tackles this aspect of comics as well. The conflict of Captain Marvel #17 is that a young business professional, with dubious morals and Ayn Randian Objectivist worldview, is bumped from a magazine for a Captain Marvel profile and wants revenge. Since this is comic books she decides the reasonable response is to send a flock of missile drones to attack Captain Marvel appreciation day. Explosions happen, Carol is vulnerable, and her fans have a "I am Sparta-err-Captain Marvel" moment which confuses the drones targeting software. This gives Carol the moment she needs to collect herself and superhero the crap out of the missile drones. But, from a more meta-relevant perspective, Captain Marvel is literally being saved from the personification of Capitalist forces by her fans. Which, I think, is a pretty deliberate shout out to the fans of Captain Marvel who've helped keep the series alive.

I frequently get the impression that the creators of Captain Marvel, particularly Kelly Sue DeConnick, enjoy the interactions they have with The Carol Corps and non-affiliated fans. It seems, as an outside observer, that team Captain Marvel is touched by the fact that a strong enough fanbase came out and bought Captain Marvel that the series ran 17 issues and is being relaunched and also getting a spinoff series. (A feat which apparently resulted in a lost bet.) It also seems, as an outside observer, that the creative people who make Captain Marvel are amazed by all of the fan generated creative projects, the charitable generosity of the Carol Corps, and pleasant demeanour and inclusiveness of much of the Captain Marvel fanbase. (Which hopefully balances out the soul destroying nonsense of the human garbage scows that Team Marvel doubtlessly also have to deal with.) Collectively, it seems to me that the creative team behind Captain Marvel is somewhat inspired by their readers.

Captain Marvel #17, I think, rather explicitly states this point. In one of the closing scenes of the issue, Captain Marvel and Kit are hanging out in Carol's new home, the gallery of the Statue of Liberty (and how many kinds of awesome is that!?), to have a "Captain Marvel Lesson". Captain Marvel, suffering as she does from memory loss (Enemy Within), confesses to Kit that she is unsure how to teach her how to be Captain Marvel. It's at this point that Kit reveals that her plan was, all along, to teach Carol how to be Captain Marvel using a comic book she made. Or, to meta this up, Kit, the ultimate Captain Marvel fan, is going to teach Carol what it means be Captain Marvel using the lens of being a fan. Which I feel is a pretty obvious "thank you" from Team Captain Marvel, as well as a revelation that the Carol Corps has helped shape what Captain Marvel means to its creators and maybe even changed how they think about heroism a bit. 

So, to try to integrate this whole thing, Captain Marvel #17 seems to suggest that this construction of Captain Marvel (character/book/community) has arisen from a kind of collaboration between creators, the character, and fans. This comic, I think, shows that while fans come to the comic for the character (and creators) and can draw on the book for inspiration, ultimately the creators rely on their fans and are in turn inspired by them. And the result of all of this is Captain Marvel and the Carol Corps and all of the fictional and real world goodness that's come out of this funny book. And that is pretty damn special and is why I can't stop thinking about Captain Marvel #17.

You really ought to be reading Captain Marvel and if you aren't, you should try out the nuCaptain Marvel book when it launches. It's gonna be a REAL comics party.

Previously
Marvelling at Captain Marvel 15-16: On tie ins
Marvelling At Captain Marvel #13-14: On The Enemy Within
Marvelling At Captain Marvel #12: Demarcating reality and fantasy
Marvelling At Captain Marvel #10: A dramatic contract
Marvelling At Captain Marvel #9: How your brain tells time
Marvelling At Captain Marvel #7: Saving a reporter in distress... AND ITS A MAN!
Marvelling At Captain Marvel #1: An alternate reading order that I liked more

Marvelling at Captain Marvel 12

Or some thoughts on why Captain Marvel #12 is such an affective comic.

This one has *SPOILERS*, particularly if you are reading Captain Marvel in trades, so read at your own risk. 

My original plan was to write something short and punchy about how Filipe Andrade uses anatomy to create the impression of speed and movement in Captain Marvel. But the more I looked at the comic, the more I realized that there was something cool going on in the way the comic is structured and that to enforce that structure, a bunch of really nifty techniques were being used by the creative team.

Captain Marvel #12 continues the ongoing narrative about a grounded by illness Captain Marvel trying to defeat a winged assailant,  negotiate her Super Heroics without flying, and follow her doctors orders. And doing none of those things particularly well. To tell this story, broadly speaking, Captain Marvel #12 splits itself between two narrative lines: the Superheroic and the mundane. And the way these two sections of story are established and contrasted is pretty interesting.

The Superheroic part of Captain Marvel #12 is pure, unadulterated cape comic excess. Captain Marvel fights Deathbird in an issue long grudge match while riding a "ridiculous airborne lawnmower".  It's a fight that takes place almost entirely in the skies over Manhattan and involves all of the brutality, gleeful disregard for physics, and quippy trash talk the genre demands. Basically, it feels like the fantastical ideal of Superhero comics. It's saccharine and it's great.

It is also meticulously crafted. Every layer of craft in this section is devised to advance and establish this as fantasy. From a plot perspective the entire fight scene takes place in the air, a realm inaccessible to mundane people. The script is over-the-top and campy, in that classic superhero way, including amazing lines like "I'm not flying angry...I'm falling pissed off!" and "Finally found a use for that [Jetbike] I can get behind...A BASEBALL BAT!/You gonna talk now, Bird, or am I going for a Grand Slam." From an art perspective the fight scene takes place in a largely backgroundless void (little sense of place) and features figures whose bodies contort in exaggerated poses and stretch in unnatural ways. This gives these scenes a dreamlike, surreal feeling that further rejects the rules of mundane life. Even the colours work towards this effect: Captain Marvel and Deathbird have bright primary coloured costumes and fight on a background of an uncanny orangey-golden-glow. Basically, this entire section sounds and looks and feels like a Superheroic dream.

All of that Superheroism contrasts with Captain Marvel #12's mundane medical scenes. In this half of the comic, Carol's Personal Physician Dr. Nayar has a consultation with a Dr. Ryland about the lesion in Carol Danvers' brain. They meet in a doctors office, and have a calm professional discussion about what to do about her ailment. It's a solid portrayal of medicine as the gray vaguely-bureaucratic machine that sees trained professionals make informed decisions about the treatment for sick people. Which, despite the exotic nature of Carol's brain lesion, is such a profoundly mundane human problem: we are alive and therefore sometimes we get sick and this limits us. And for what it is, this section of the comic is great.

When contrasted with the Supeheroic portions of the comic from a craft perspective, this section of the comic is brilliant. The plot of this section breaks down to two doctors discussing a patients ailment, and the dialogue makes brilliant use of jargon-jargon-jargon to ground everything in the mundane rules of reality and Science. Furthermore, this scene takes place entirely in a doctors office or hospital with a meticulously dawn background that firmly establishes this scene with a realistic sense of place. The rest of the artwork also works towards this: characters are drawn with realistic proportions and anatomy and thoughtfully bored expressions, while the colours are familiar earth-tones with a hint of pastels. It's a portion of the comic that sounds, and looks, and feels like a real place and situation. It is, in many ways, the very opposite of Superhero comics.

Together these two sections work to create, what I think, is the thematic core of Captain Marvel #12. By so starkly contrasting the fantasy elements of the story with the mundane, inescapable reality of the medical establishment,  the comic creates a tension between the dream (Captain Marvel fighting through the skies) and the reality (Carol Danvers is sick). And as the comic ends and the fantasy of Captain Marvels sky combat collides with the reality of her illness, that tension is resolved by the fact that our biology, our reality can't be escaped by wishing. And in that, I think, is the theme of this comic: our dreams are ultimately beholden to, and perhaps limited by, reality. It's a poignant idea, executed brilliantly by all involved.

Marvelling at Captain Marvel #10

Or writing about a writer's contract with their readers.

There be *SPOILERS* in this one. So go read Captain Marvel #10 before reading this post. 

Captain Marvel #10 is another great comic from the creative team of Kelly Sue DeConnick, Christopher Sebela, and Filipe Andrade. It picks up where #9 left off with the revelation that Carol Danvers has a lesion in her brain that may be catastrophically exacerbated through the use of her powers. As a result, Carol is literally grounded by sound medical advice. Captain Marvel #10, then, is a comic about Carol dealing, or rather failing to deal, with the revelation of her condition. It's a comic about willfully ignoring weakness, pushing past limitations, and the consequences of hubris. It's a comic about falling.

(Captain Marvel #10 is also a super well constructed comic that functions both as an individual story and as a part of an ongoing narrative. It's also beautifully drawn.)

Captain Marvel #10 also does something really effective in how it lays out the story and sets up its themes.

The first page of the comic depicts a dream Carol is having about her love of flying to the edge of the atmosphere, passing out, and free-falling back to Earth. In the dream this is presented as a kind-of-game-of-chicken with gravity where the object of the game is to wake up before she hits the ground. It's a pretty great summary of Carol as a character: she loves to fly, is happiest when using her powers, and is stubborn enough to challenge gravity. This sequence also simultaneously introduces her powers and illustrates that Carol enjoys taking risks. The dream further manages to be a pitch perfect moment following the revelation of the brain lesion in the previous issue: I feel it reveals Carol's fear and establishes flight as something important to her; something that would be very difficult for her to lose.  Perhaps most importantly, though, the opening dream sequence beautifully sets up the themes of the comic.

Let me explain. There exists between writers and their audience a... kind of unspoken contract. Readers enter into a manuscript with a certain set of expectations based on all kinds of things: the cover art, the genre, the author's previous work, etc. The author may make further contracts with the audience within the body of the text that also set up additional reader expectations. Something like the brutal murder of The Comedian in the opening pages Alan Moore and Dave Gibbon's Watchman tells the audience that the comic is going to be mature and brutal and that the audience should get ready for an unforgiving read. In a conventional reading sense, the success of the book can be judged by how well the author manages to live up to, or at least address, the contract they establish with their readers. 

(That isn't to say satisfying expectations is the only good way to structure a story-some of my favourite reads, like Fraction and Moon's Casanova: Gula, are about subverting or breaking the contract with the reader- but I think nearly all good fiction is at least aware of the contract that has been made and is interacting with it. Besides, this is supposed to be a short essay on CM#10)

The introductory dream sequence in Captain Marvel #10 works beautifully to establish a contract with the reader. It tells us, whether we realize it consciously or not, that this is a comic about flying too high and falling or pushing too hard and suffering the consequences. With this established CM#10 becomes less a reading experience about discovering the next unexpected story development, and more a comic about waiting for the inevitable disaster and dreading the consequences. I think it ratchets up the tension in a really effective way and changes every brash action on the part of Carol Danvers from her-just-being-stubborn into a stepping stone to disaster. It makes every symptom of her brain condition another second clicking off a timer strapped to an explosive that we know will go off. And when Carol inevitably overuses her powers by flying and is sent plummeting back to the ground in a brilliant parallel to the first page dream sequence, it feels EARNED. Which I think is part of why Captain Marvel #10 is such a satisfying reading experience.

So I guess what I'm trying to say is that Captain Marvel #10 is a great comic that, by explicitly stating its intensions early, manages to create palpable tension and a genuinely solid conclusion. I'd go so far as to say that CM#10 is a lesson in how establishing and satisfying a the contract with the reader makes for an especially satisfying read.

Did I mention I really, really like this comic?

Also, this has to be one of the more beautiful single panels in a comic I've seen:

Marvelling at Captain Marvel #9

Or an excuse to talk about Science in the context of comic books.

There be *SPOILERS* in this one. So go read Captain Marvel #9 before reading this post. Don't have it? Shame on you, this is an amazing comic.

First let it be said that Captain Marvel #9 kicks so much ass. I mean, I've really enjoyed every issue of Captain Marvel so far, but this one is fantastic. To the point where if someone were to ask me "Why do you read superhero comics?", I could answer "Because Captain Marvel #9". It's based around a slice-of-life ordinary day for Carol and is filled with satisfying character moments, little snippets of great comedy, a broadening supporting cast, and a gun point standoff. And a ridiculous "lucky" touque (I'm Canadian, we have a word for that). AND dinosaurs in downtown Manhattan. In Captain Marvel #9 Kelly Sue DeConnick manages to turn what could kind of be considered a setup/logistical issue into a beat perfect superhero comic. Filipe Andrade, this issue's artist, has a kinetic and kind of exaggerated style that is pretty great and completes the package. Did I mention I really like this comic?

Anyway, on the last page *SERIOUS SPOILERS* it's revealed that Carol has a lesion in the Suprachiasmatic Nucleus of her brain.

You might be wondering, what is a Suprachiasmatic Nucleus (or SCN). Well, since two of my favourite non-human things are Science and comics, I'll try to defuse this jargon.

Structurally the SCN is a small collection of neuron cells that live kind of behind the optic nerve and some visual signalling structures (one of which is called the optic chiasm) in the brain. In the brain, small clusters of neurons are referred to as a nucleus (not to be confused with the nucleus that contains DNA; Scientists are the worst at naming things). So we have a collection of neurons that lives close to the optical chiasm: hence Suprachiasmatic Nucleus. 

But brain structures only matter in so far as they do something. So what does the SCN do? Well, it's where our bodies' internal clock lives.

People evolved on a planet that has light and dark cycles; day and night. A consequence of this is that our bodies adapted to do certain things at certain times of the day. Like to sleep at night and wake up in the morning or to get hungry during the day, but to fast and slow our metabolism at night. To manage this our brains contain a time keeping mechanism that counts out almost exactly 24 hours before resetting. And this time keeping mechanism lives in the SCN. Which is pretty cool. But how does it work?

So a clock works because some part of it is able perform a motion in a consistent, regular way. A grandfather clock has a pendulum (a big ass weighted chain) that sways back and forth at a regular interval (which is maintained by a slowly uncoiling spring). Old pocket watches work by winding a spring that slowly and regularly uncoils and spins gears that turn with a certain speed to keep time. Modern watches use a piezoelectric crystal (essentially a cool rock that will physically oscillate in size (a little) when you run an electric field through it from, say, a watch battery) to mark the regular, periodic passage of time. Well, the SCN works in a fairly similar way, except it oscillates protein levels to tell time.

In the SCN a protein called CLOCK ("circadian locomotor output cycles kaput"... because sometimes Scientists DO name things well) is produced. CLOCK is something called a "transcription factor", which is a protein that can bind to DNA in a cell and turn on or off the production of other proteins. They are kind of like control switches. Anyway, in the SCN, CLOCK is made at a steady rate. Initially it has a low concentration and is stuck in the main compartment of the cell (called the Cytoplasm). Eventually CLOCK reaches a high enough concentration to enter the Nucleus of the cell and bind to DNA. CLOCK can turn on and off a lot of different protein making pathways, but some key genes that get turned on are the ones that manufacture  Period (PER) and Cryptochrome (CYC) proteins. PER and CYC are also transcription factors, and when they are turned on they bind to DNA and turn off the production of CLOCK. This causes CLOCK levels to fall (because cells recycle things), which eventually means CLOCK can't turn on PER and CYC, which means PER and CYC can't turn off CLOCK, which means that CLOCK production starts up again. The cycle repeats.

So to recap, in the SCN during a 24 hour day, CLOCK is made until it turns on production of PER and CYC which turns off CLOCK which eventually will turn off PER and CYC which turns on CLOCK. And then this repeats during the next 24 hours. Which is, in a basic sense, how your brain keeps track of time.

Of course, it's WAY more complicated than that. There are other proteins in the SCN that also fluctuate during a 24 hour period and interact with CLOCK to help keep time. (such as BMAL1, REV-ERBa, RORa etc). Your brain also takes in environmental information and uses this to fine tune the clock. So things like light and dark are used to alter the clock and make it run even more accurately. (Which is why it is important to sleep in a DARK room and why when my dog needs a 3am emergency bathroom run involving a well lit hallway my sleep gets ruined.)  But all of this action takes place in the SCN.

Information from the clock in the SCN gives timed instructions to other areas of the brain, like centres that control wakefulness and hunger or regulate the release of hormones like insulin, melatonin, and growth hormone. So it's a pretty important little structure that affects pretty much every other system in your body.

Which makes the SCN not a great place to have a lesion.

Did I mention I love this comic book?