JohnLees
Tuesday, May 12, 2009, 02:25 AM
Last month, the landmark series 100 Bullets came to a close with its 100th and final issue. Controversial, innovative and, of course, very much "for mature readers", 100 Bullets was a series that continued to build on the reputation established by DC's Vertigo imprint for high-quality comic books. In fact, Vertigo has gone so far in carving out its own identity in the comics industry, that it has become an entity distinct and separate from the DC Universe. But this was not always the case.
In 1993, DC launched the Vertigo line with Neil Gaiman's mini-series, Death: The High Cost of Living, and a starting lineup of books that included Hellblazer, The Sandman, Swamp Thing, Animal Man, Doom Patrol and Shade, the Changing Man. But these titles did not just appear out of thin air as ready-made Vertigo projects. No, the formation of the Vertigo imprint was the culmination of a process that had been developing for several years, a process of change that saw several DC titles become something more, something that could no longer be contained within the confines of the DC Universe. How and why did these changes occur? What were the qualities that would come to define a Vertigo comic?
That's what we'll be exploring in this meeting. And so though Vertigo is in the title of this week's meeting, technically speaking it's not Vertigo books I've asked you to read, even if they've been retroactively labelled as such. No, what we'll be discussing is a selection of DC titles from the late 1980s - The Sandman, Animal Man, Hellblazer - titles that in the future would make the jump over to Vertigo. By going to a time when these books were entrenched in the DC Universe, I hope to pinpoint the moment when they each began to pull away from DC, and be redefined as something new. In short, we'll be looking at the birth of Vertigo.
When discussing the birth of Vertigo, there is one crucial figure who must be mentioned: editor Karen Berger. In 1987, DC was at a crossroads. The Dark Knight Returns and Watchmen had been recently released, and each had revolutionised comics. So while DC still trailed Marvel in sales, they were in a position to carve a niche for themselves as innovators, the ones pushing the envelope and blazing trails. But just how were they going to do that? After Watchmen, where do you go next? Keeping in mind the fresh, exciting new perspective Alan Moore had brought to Swamp Thing, Karen Berger set out on a talent-scouting trip to the UK. In a 2003 New York Times article - "At House of Comics, a Writer's Champion", by Dana Jennings - Karen Berger explained why she looked to Britain in search of a new wave of writing talent:
I found their sensibility and point of view to be refreshingly different, edgier and smarter... The British writers broke open comics and took the medium to a new level of maturity.
Note here the focus placed on seeking out writers. In the same article, Berger states her philosophy as editor of Vertigo has been a longstanding emphasis on the writer - "We've raised the profile of the writer... it's the stories that drive the books." Debating the accuracy of this philosophy is perhaps fodder for another meeting, but one thing that's certain is that the origins of Vertigo are closely tied to Berger's "British Invasion", and that this movement took the concept of the "superstar writer" in comics to a whole new level. As a result of this 1987 talent-scouting trip to the UK, Karen Berger introduced Neil Gaiman, Grant Morrison, Jamie Delano, Peter Milligan and (a few years later) Garth Ennis to mainstream American comics.
Much like Alan Moore had re-energised Swamp Thing by changing the title from a run-of-the-mill monster book into bold, experimental literature, this new stable of British writers were encouraged to take stagnant DC properties and revive them with their own creative spin. Upon the completion of the Black Orchid mini-series - his first work for DC - Neil Gaiman proposed revamping forgotten Justice Society superhero The Sandman in such dramatic fashion, that Karen Berger suggested he run with the idea, but base it around a totally new character, rather than being tied to the history of the original Sandman. Gaiman took this advice, developing and building on the idea, and from this process came Dream of the Endless, his world and supporting characters. And so The Sandman was born.
Right from the first chapter, "Sleep of the Just", it is clear that this series will be an expression of a unique creative vision. As far as "origin stories" go in comics, it is markedly atypical, breaking from convention on several fronts. Our eponymous hero is pretty much a peripheral figure here, not even getting a sizeable chunk of dialogue until the chapter's end. Up until that point, we are treated with a multi-stranded story told from a number of perspectives, spanning across almost a century. It almost feels like it could be a standalone story, rather than the beginning of a monthly series from DC Comics - there certainly seems to be enough plot crammed in "Sleep of the Just" alone to fill a feature-length film. It’s complex, unorthodox, adult material.
Discussing this first chapter in the Afterword at the back of the Preludes & Nocturnes graphic novel, Neil Gaiman calls "Sleep of the Just" "a classical English horror story." It definitely reads like a piece of Victorian horror literature along the lines of The Picture of Dorian Gray or The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, a cautionary tale about man's thirst for knowledge and power taking him to places mankind was not meant to go, and leading to a horrifying reprisal. The influence of horror is clear in this chapter and beyond, but here we see the superhero genre also trying to assert itself, somewhat less fluidly. In "Sleep of the Just", DC's classic Sandman, Wesley Dodds, is briefly worked into the story, tying this tale into the continuity of the DC Universe. And as this graphic novel progresses, there is at first this rather awkward tension between the competing influences of horror and superheroes.
As "Chapter 2: Imperfect Hosts" gives us a clearer sense of the direction The Sandman will be taking as a comic series, it further entrenches itself in DC continuity. But already, this feels like a world that does not sit easily alongside the likes of Batman and Superman, so distinct is its content and tone. It feels rather odd when Dream of the Endless makes comments such as this, on page 77 of the Preludes & Nocturnes graphic novel:
There are things I do not know about this "Justice League". More than mere humans, eh...?
But as Dream goes on a whirlwhind tour of the DC Universe, meeting the likes of John Constantine, Etrigan the Demon, Mr. Miracle, Martian Manhunter and Scarecrow, the continued sojourns into horror give the book a darker edge than what would be expected from mainstream DC at that time. I think an important transition, where the balance tips heavily in the favor of horror, would be "Chapter 6: 24 Hours". In this chapter, what had been a story about a lunatic escaping from Arkham - hardly unfamiliar to your average Batman reader - takes a turn into something that Gaiman himself calls "genuinely horrific". There are no superheroes here, even Dream only makes a fleeting appearance on the last page. The focus of this chapter is a group of normal people who Dr. Destiny spends a whole day murdering in sadistic, upsetting fashion.
As alarming a break from convention as this chapter is, it is in the last chapter of Preludes & Nocturnes, "The Sound of Her Wings", that we get the most tangible sense of The Sandman pulling away from the DC Universe, and becoming its own entity. Here, Gaiman crafts a tale that is lyrical, philosophical, poetic, enough so to set it apart even from the earlier chapters in the graphic novel. And in his depiction of Death as a non-threatening, perky, likeable goth girl, it feels like Gaiman is breaking new writing ground, trying something truly new. As for the story itself, it shows that this was not just a book about immortal beings of immense power, but about the lives, dreams and deaths of ordinary people; mundane, yet extraordinary and even beautiful in their own way. In her introduction to Preludes & Nocturnes, Karen Berger calls "The Sound of Her Wings" "the turning point". In his Afterword, Neil Gaiman appears to agree:
"The Sound of Her Wings" was the epilogue and the first story in the sequence I felt was truly mine, and in which I knew I was beginning to find my own voice.
And this was one important element that distinguished a mainstream DC comic from what would become a Vertigo comic. This foregrounding of the writer, a comic whose voice was so distinct that it could not easily jump from one creative run to another like your average superhero book. It brings something new to the table, and rather than simply existing within the comic book world, its ambitions involve moving the industry forward. Even before it was given its own brand, seperate from the DC Universe, The Sandman had begun to brand itself.
These notions of a comic showcasing a writer's unique voice, and breaking new ground in its execution, also carry over to Animal Man. Here, the writer in question is Grant Morrison. And in this first Animal Man graphic novel, simply entitled Animal Man, the turning point comes in "Chapter 5: The Coyote Gospel". In the four chapters that precede this, Animal Man is firmly rooted in the mainstream DC Universe, much moreso than The Sandman, given how grounded and familiar it seems. After all, Animal Man is a superhero. Buddy Baker's family life and underdog nature might make him quirky as far as superheroes go, but at this early stage there is nothing to suggest this is a character who would not fit neatly into the wider DC Universe. Superman even makes a guest appearance in the second chapter.
But with "The Coyote Gospel", we are once again greeted by that tangible sense of a series pulling away from the DC Universe, and beginning to become something unique. This impression emerges immediately, upon looking at the cover for the issue. While wonderfully-drawn (as you can always depend on from Brian Bolland), the covers for the first 4 issues were standard superhero fare. The cover for this fifth issue, however, depicts a partially-drawn Animal Man lying splayed out on the ground, with an artist's hand reaching onto the page to apply some finishing touches of paintwork:
A cover like this bears metatextual connotations, and such ideas are further pursued in the issue itself. If you'll forgive the repitition, this is a story about stories within stories. Here we meet Crafty the Coyote, a Wile E. Coyote like figure from a thinly-veiled analogue of the Looney Tunes cartoons. Somehow, Crafty is able to escape the confines of his fictional world and confront his real-life creator, who he sees as God. And so Crafty is written out of his Looney Tunes world and written into the DC Universe, where the rules are different. And so we are presented with a head-spinning conundrum where a character is removed from a fictional world and brought into the "real" world, but of course the "real" world is also fictional. This is then highlighted in a crucial moment in the very last panel of "The Coyote Gospel", where a colorist's hand reaches down onto the page to add some dabs of red blood to Crafty's dead body. Here, within the confines of this fictional world depicted in Animal Man, we get an overt acknowledgement that this world is fictional.
After this chapter, Animal Man's adventures continue as normal. But from this point on there is an undercurrent of uncertainty, tensions raised that - as the thread develops - will draw Animal Man further and further away from the mainstream DC Universe. In the first and last page of "Chapter 8: Mirror Moves", Animal Man's battle against Mirror Master is bookended with an unusual sequence, seemingly disembodied from everything else going on. We see a computer, with an unknown figure typing this message onto the screen:
"I CANNOT BELIEVE THAT GOD PLAYS DICE WITH THE COSMOS."
Albert Enstein
HE DOESN'T. I DO.
Though it is not confirmed until later issues going beyond this particular graphic novel, based on the parallels between the writer and God raised in "The Coyote Gospel", we are given a good idea of who is typing this message: Grant Morrison himself. As the series progresses, Animal Man - much like Crafty - comes to realise he is a fictional creation, and departs his fictional world to confront his creator. But this line between fiction and reality is blurred by the fact that Grant Morrison is appearing in his own comic book. So rather than Animal Man "becoming real", it is in fact Grant Morrison (or rather, a version of him) who is becoming a fictional character. And in fact, Animal Man is only breaking the confines of fiction because he is being written to do so... in a piece of fiction. Confused yet?
In his Intro at the start of the Animal Man graphic novel, Morrison explains the significance of "The Coyote Gospel":
Hilariously enough, during the writing of "The Coyote Gospel" I was utterly convinced that what I was writing was absolute unreadable gibberish and that it would hammer the final nail into the coffin of my fledgling career as a writer of American super-hero comics. The success and popularity of the story took me entirely by surprise and encouraged me to go on to produce the entirely unreadable gibberish which has since become my stock-in-trade.
"The Coyote Gospel" proved as significant for the future of Animal Man as it was for the future of Grant Morrison, with Morrison claiming it "became the template for the further development of the entire series". And this is what set the stage for Animal Man shifting from a DC comic into what would become a Vertigo comic. Because it shifted from being a DC comic into being a Grant Morrison comic.
But this leads us to a problematic issue. When the time came for Animal Man to actually make the jump from DC to Vertigo with Animal Man #57 in 1993, it was under the pen of Jamie Delano, with Grant Morrison having departed from the book years earlier. And this was hardly an isolated incident among Vertigo's starting lineup. Jamie Delano had picked up the Animal Man gig after leaving the Hellblazer series that he began, Grant Morrison had also left Doom Patrol, and of course Alan Moore was long gone from Swamp Thing. But don't you recall Karen Berger's comments about how crucial the writer was to Vertigo titles?
What made many of these books Vertigo books in the first place was their distinctive voices, the unique identity bestowed upon them by their original writers. Perhaps this is why Animal Man - along with most of the other titles on Vertigo's starting lineup - were ultimately cancelled due to slumping sales. When a book's niche is carved by what a particular writer brought to the table, what can any subsequent author do other than stand in their predessor's shadow, be a pale imitation of him?
However, there is one comic series from Vertigo's starting lineup that is still running today, and has survived through numerous writer changeovers. Hellblazer. The title's protagonist, John Constantine, is the closest thing Vertigo has to a Superman or a Spider-Man, an enduring flagship character. Unlike almost any other Vertigo property, he is a character whose popularity transcends authors, reaching the level where he does not strictly "belong" to any one writer, becoming canon like the tenured superheroes of Marvel and DC.
And that is why I'm not looking at the first Hellblazer graphic novel, like I looked at the first collected editions of The Sandman and Animal Man. Instead, I am going to look at Dangerous Habits, the Hellblazer graphic novel collecting the first storyline in the book to be written by Garth Ennis. Taking over from original writer Delano, Ennis went on to have a run on the book that was actually longer than Delano's, and he was the writer that helmed Hellblazer through the transition from DC Comics to Vertigo. I want to examine his contribution to the world of John Constantine, and take a look at what role - if any - he played in giving the series enduring appeal.
I struggled reading Dangerous Habits. I looked hard for any dramatic trailblazing, that sense of pulling away from what came before that I found in the other two books. I couldn't find any. But I came to realise that this is in itself Garth Ennis' great gift to the series. While there are indeed many Ennis trademarks on display, such as his contempt for religion, Dangerous Habits never totally becomes a "Garth Ennis comic". Ennis casts himself into the shadow, putting John Constantine as a character at the forefront.
To illustrate this, we need only compare the closing chapter of Dangerous Habits, "Falling Into Hell", with "The Sound of Her Wings" from Preludes & Nocturnes. The two stories are ostensibly similar - both are epilogues, showing how the protagonist copes with the aftermath of the conflict resolved in the previous issue. But while I talked about "The Sound of Her Wings" being the point where Gaiman truly flexed his creative muscles and came into his own as "auteur" of The Sandman, Ennis makes himself invisible in "Falling Into Hell", with the focus honed in on John Constantine as a character, as Constantine's closing voiceover reflects:
The rain washes over me, every drop of it like liquid salt, drenching me in my own evil. It's not a pleasant burden, but at least I'm used to it. Because that's what it is to be me. To be John Constantine.
Garth Ennis brought a lot to the Hellblazer mythos over his run. But his most important contribution was making himself expendable, paving the way for the likes of Warren Ellis, Brian Azzarello and Mike Carey to have their own successful runs on the series after him. He didn't try and reinvent the wheel, and instead focused on telling the best Constantine stories he could, within the framework already in place. Garth Ennis insured that Hellblazer was not tied to one writer. No, if the writer was good enough, Hellblazer could be written by anyone.
But if this is the case, what is it that makes Hellblazer a Vertigo comic? That's pretty simple. John Constantine first appeared in Alan Moore's Swamp Thing, the book that inspired Karen Berger to instigate the "British Invasion" of American comics. When these British writers came to DC with their pitches, the popular choice was to pitch for a Constantine book, as Neil Gaiman states in the Afterword to Preludes & Nocturnes. Constantine would go on to guest star in "Dream a Little Dream of Me", the third chapter of this first collected edition of The Sandman, and would make appearances in other soon-to-be Veritgo titles. In every step towards the birth of Vertigo, John Constantine seemed to be present. Hellblazer was always going to be a Vertigo comic.
Since its inception, Vertigo has been host to some acclaimed comic books. Preacher, 100 Bullets, Fables, these and others were all made possible thanks to the groundwork laid by The Sandman, Animal Man, Hellblazer and all the other comics that pushed the boundaries, and made the creation of such an imprint necessary in the first place. Even before the launch of Vertigo in 1993, this group of comics had suitably distanced themselves from the mainstream DC Universe. Fans already grouped them under a banner they dubbed "the Bergerverse". A fitting tribute to Karen Berger, the catalyst who set it all into motion. But Vertigo is a catchier name.
Meeting #6
Since we spent this meeting so heavily focused on DC, next time round we'll show Marvel some love. We're going to discuss the state of the Marvel Universe today, how it has changed into a darker, more morally ambiguous world. What has changed in the Marvel Universe? And what role did the three selected graphic novels play in bringing Marvel into the Dark Reign it currently finds itself in?
RECOMMENDED READING:
New Avengers: Breakout
Brian Michael Bendis and David Finch
Civil War
Mark Millar and Steve McNiven
Captain America: The Death of Captain America Volume 1 – The Death of the Dream
Ed Brubaker and Steve Epting, Mike Perkins
Meeting #7
Open Forum - more details next time!
In 1993, DC launched the Vertigo line with Neil Gaiman's mini-series, Death: The High Cost of Living, and a starting lineup of books that included Hellblazer, The Sandman, Swamp Thing, Animal Man, Doom Patrol and Shade, the Changing Man. But these titles did not just appear out of thin air as ready-made Vertigo projects. No, the formation of the Vertigo imprint was the culmination of a process that had been developing for several years, a process of change that saw several DC titles become something more, something that could no longer be contained within the confines of the DC Universe. How and why did these changes occur? What were the qualities that would come to define a Vertigo comic?
That's what we'll be exploring in this meeting. And so though Vertigo is in the title of this week's meeting, technically speaking it's not Vertigo books I've asked you to read, even if they've been retroactively labelled as such. No, what we'll be discussing is a selection of DC titles from the late 1980s - The Sandman, Animal Man, Hellblazer - titles that in the future would make the jump over to Vertigo. By going to a time when these books were entrenched in the DC Universe, I hope to pinpoint the moment when they each began to pull away from DC, and be redefined as something new. In short, we'll be looking at the birth of Vertigo.
When discussing the birth of Vertigo, there is one crucial figure who must be mentioned: editor Karen Berger. In 1987, DC was at a crossroads. The Dark Knight Returns and Watchmen had been recently released, and each had revolutionised comics. So while DC still trailed Marvel in sales, they were in a position to carve a niche for themselves as innovators, the ones pushing the envelope and blazing trails. But just how were they going to do that? After Watchmen, where do you go next? Keeping in mind the fresh, exciting new perspective Alan Moore had brought to Swamp Thing, Karen Berger set out on a talent-scouting trip to the UK. In a 2003 New York Times article - "At House of Comics, a Writer's Champion", by Dana Jennings - Karen Berger explained why she looked to Britain in search of a new wave of writing talent:
I found their sensibility and point of view to be refreshingly different, edgier and smarter... The British writers broke open comics and took the medium to a new level of maturity.
Note here the focus placed on seeking out writers. In the same article, Berger states her philosophy as editor of Vertigo has been a longstanding emphasis on the writer - "We've raised the profile of the writer... it's the stories that drive the books." Debating the accuracy of this philosophy is perhaps fodder for another meeting, but one thing that's certain is that the origins of Vertigo are closely tied to Berger's "British Invasion", and that this movement took the concept of the "superstar writer" in comics to a whole new level. As a result of this 1987 talent-scouting trip to the UK, Karen Berger introduced Neil Gaiman, Grant Morrison, Jamie Delano, Peter Milligan and (a few years later) Garth Ennis to mainstream American comics.
Much like Alan Moore had re-energised Swamp Thing by changing the title from a run-of-the-mill monster book into bold, experimental literature, this new stable of British writers were encouraged to take stagnant DC properties and revive them with their own creative spin. Upon the completion of the Black Orchid mini-series - his first work for DC - Neil Gaiman proposed revamping forgotten Justice Society superhero The Sandman in such dramatic fashion, that Karen Berger suggested he run with the idea, but base it around a totally new character, rather than being tied to the history of the original Sandman. Gaiman took this advice, developing and building on the idea, and from this process came Dream of the Endless, his world and supporting characters. And so The Sandman was born.
Right from the first chapter, "Sleep of the Just", it is clear that this series will be an expression of a unique creative vision. As far as "origin stories" go in comics, it is markedly atypical, breaking from convention on several fronts. Our eponymous hero is pretty much a peripheral figure here, not even getting a sizeable chunk of dialogue until the chapter's end. Up until that point, we are treated with a multi-stranded story told from a number of perspectives, spanning across almost a century. It almost feels like it could be a standalone story, rather than the beginning of a monthly series from DC Comics - there certainly seems to be enough plot crammed in "Sleep of the Just" alone to fill a feature-length film. It’s complex, unorthodox, adult material.
Discussing this first chapter in the Afterword at the back of the Preludes & Nocturnes graphic novel, Neil Gaiman calls "Sleep of the Just" "a classical English horror story." It definitely reads like a piece of Victorian horror literature along the lines of The Picture of Dorian Gray or The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, a cautionary tale about man's thirst for knowledge and power taking him to places mankind was not meant to go, and leading to a horrifying reprisal. The influence of horror is clear in this chapter and beyond, but here we see the superhero genre also trying to assert itself, somewhat less fluidly. In "Sleep of the Just", DC's classic Sandman, Wesley Dodds, is briefly worked into the story, tying this tale into the continuity of the DC Universe. And as this graphic novel progresses, there is at first this rather awkward tension between the competing influences of horror and superheroes.
As "Chapter 2: Imperfect Hosts" gives us a clearer sense of the direction The Sandman will be taking as a comic series, it further entrenches itself in DC continuity. But already, this feels like a world that does not sit easily alongside the likes of Batman and Superman, so distinct is its content and tone. It feels rather odd when Dream of the Endless makes comments such as this, on page 77 of the Preludes & Nocturnes graphic novel:
There are things I do not know about this "Justice League". More than mere humans, eh...?
But as Dream goes on a whirlwhind tour of the DC Universe, meeting the likes of John Constantine, Etrigan the Demon, Mr. Miracle, Martian Manhunter and Scarecrow, the continued sojourns into horror give the book a darker edge than what would be expected from mainstream DC at that time. I think an important transition, where the balance tips heavily in the favor of horror, would be "Chapter 6: 24 Hours". In this chapter, what had been a story about a lunatic escaping from Arkham - hardly unfamiliar to your average Batman reader - takes a turn into something that Gaiman himself calls "genuinely horrific". There are no superheroes here, even Dream only makes a fleeting appearance on the last page. The focus of this chapter is a group of normal people who Dr. Destiny spends a whole day murdering in sadistic, upsetting fashion.
As alarming a break from convention as this chapter is, it is in the last chapter of Preludes & Nocturnes, "The Sound of Her Wings", that we get the most tangible sense of The Sandman pulling away from the DC Universe, and becoming its own entity. Here, Gaiman crafts a tale that is lyrical, philosophical, poetic, enough so to set it apart even from the earlier chapters in the graphic novel. And in his depiction of Death as a non-threatening, perky, likeable goth girl, it feels like Gaiman is breaking new writing ground, trying something truly new. As for the story itself, it shows that this was not just a book about immortal beings of immense power, but about the lives, dreams and deaths of ordinary people; mundane, yet extraordinary and even beautiful in their own way. In her introduction to Preludes & Nocturnes, Karen Berger calls "The Sound of Her Wings" "the turning point". In his Afterword, Neil Gaiman appears to agree:
"The Sound of Her Wings" was the epilogue and the first story in the sequence I felt was truly mine, and in which I knew I was beginning to find my own voice.
And this was one important element that distinguished a mainstream DC comic from what would become a Vertigo comic. This foregrounding of the writer, a comic whose voice was so distinct that it could not easily jump from one creative run to another like your average superhero book. It brings something new to the table, and rather than simply existing within the comic book world, its ambitions involve moving the industry forward. Even before it was given its own brand, seperate from the DC Universe, The Sandman had begun to brand itself.
These notions of a comic showcasing a writer's unique voice, and breaking new ground in its execution, also carry over to Animal Man. Here, the writer in question is Grant Morrison. And in this first Animal Man graphic novel, simply entitled Animal Man, the turning point comes in "Chapter 5: The Coyote Gospel". In the four chapters that precede this, Animal Man is firmly rooted in the mainstream DC Universe, much moreso than The Sandman, given how grounded and familiar it seems. After all, Animal Man is a superhero. Buddy Baker's family life and underdog nature might make him quirky as far as superheroes go, but at this early stage there is nothing to suggest this is a character who would not fit neatly into the wider DC Universe. Superman even makes a guest appearance in the second chapter.
But with "The Coyote Gospel", we are once again greeted by that tangible sense of a series pulling away from the DC Universe, and beginning to become something unique. This impression emerges immediately, upon looking at the cover for the issue. While wonderfully-drawn (as you can always depend on from Brian Bolland), the covers for the first 4 issues were standard superhero fare. The cover for this fifth issue, however, depicts a partially-drawn Animal Man lying splayed out on the ground, with an artist's hand reaching onto the page to apply some finishing touches of paintwork:
A cover like this bears metatextual connotations, and such ideas are further pursued in the issue itself. If you'll forgive the repitition, this is a story about stories within stories. Here we meet Crafty the Coyote, a Wile E. Coyote like figure from a thinly-veiled analogue of the Looney Tunes cartoons. Somehow, Crafty is able to escape the confines of his fictional world and confront his real-life creator, who he sees as God. And so Crafty is written out of his Looney Tunes world and written into the DC Universe, where the rules are different. And so we are presented with a head-spinning conundrum where a character is removed from a fictional world and brought into the "real" world, but of course the "real" world is also fictional. This is then highlighted in a crucial moment in the very last panel of "The Coyote Gospel", where a colorist's hand reaches down onto the page to add some dabs of red blood to Crafty's dead body. Here, within the confines of this fictional world depicted in Animal Man, we get an overt acknowledgement that this world is fictional.
After this chapter, Animal Man's adventures continue as normal. But from this point on there is an undercurrent of uncertainty, tensions raised that - as the thread develops - will draw Animal Man further and further away from the mainstream DC Universe. In the first and last page of "Chapter 8: Mirror Moves", Animal Man's battle against Mirror Master is bookended with an unusual sequence, seemingly disembodied from everything else going on. We see a computer, with an unknown figure typing this message onto the screen:
"I CANNOT BELIEVE THAT GOD PLAYS DICE WITH THE COSMOS."
Albert Enstein
HE DOESN'T. I DO.
Though it is not confirmed until later issues going beyond this particular graphic novel, based on the parallels between the writer and God raised in "The Coyote Gospel", we are given a good idea of who is typing this message: Grant Morrison himself. As the series progresses, Animal Man - much like Crafty - comes to realise he is a fictional creation, and departs his fictional world to confront his creator. But this line between fiction and reality is blurred by the fact that Grant Morrison is appearing in his own comic book. So rather than Animal Man "becoming real", it is in fact Grant Morrison (or rather, a version of him) who is becoming a fictional character. And in fact, Animal Man is only breaking the confines of fiction because he is being written to do so... in a piece of fiction. Confused yet?
In his Intro at the start of the Animal Man graphic novel, Morrison explains the significance of "The Coyote Gospel":
Hilariously enough, during the writing of "The Coyote Gospel" I was utterly convinced that what I was writing was absolute unreadable gibberish and that it would hammer the final nail into the coffin of my fledgling career as a writer of American super-hero comics. The success and popularity of the story took me entirely by surprise and encouraged me to go on to produce the entirely unreadable gibberish which has since become my stock-in-trade.
"The Coyote Gospel" proved as significant for the future of Animal Man as it was for the future of Grant Morrison, with Morrison claiming it "became the template for the further development of the entire series". And this is what set the stage for Animal Man shifting from a DC comic into what would become a Vertigo comic. Because it shifted from being a DC comic into being a Grant Morrison comic.
But this leads us to a problematic issue. When the time came for Animal Man to actually make the jump from DC to Vertigo with Animal Man #57 in 1993, it was under the pen of Jamie Delano, with Grant Morrison having departed from the book years earlier. And this was hardly an isolated incident among Vertigo's starting lineup. Jamie Delano had picked up the Animal Man gig after leaving the Hellblazer series that he began, Grant Morrison had also left Doom Patrol, and of course Alan Moore was long gone from Swamp Thing. But don't you recall Karen Berger's comments about how crucial the writer was to Vertigo titles?
What made many of these books Vertigo books in the first place was their distinctive voices, the unique identity bestowed upon them by their original writers. Perhaps this is why Animal Man - along with most of the other titles on Vertigo's starting lineup - were ultimately cancelled due to slumping sales. When a book's niche is carved by what a particular writer brought to the table, what can any subsequent author do other than stand in their predessor's shadow, be a pale imitation of him?
However, there is one comic series from Vertigo's starting lineup that is still running today, and has survived through numerous writer changeovers. Hellblazer. The title's protagonist, John Constantine, is the closest thing Vertigo has to a Superman or a Spider-Man, an enduring flagship character. Unlike almost any other Vertigo property, he is a character whose popularity transcends authors, reaching the level where he does not strictly "belong" to any one writer, becoming canon like the tenured superheroes of Marvel and DC.
And that is why I'm not looking at the first Hellblazer graphic novel, like I looked at the first collected editions of The Sandman and Animal Man. Instead, I am going to look at Dangerous Habits, the Hellblazer graphic novel collecting the first storyline in the book to be written by Garth Ennis. Taking over from original writer Delano, Ennis went on to have a run on the book that was actually longer than Delano's, and he was the writer that helmed Hellblazer through the transition from DC Comics to Vertigo. I want to examine his contribution to the world of John Constantine, and take a look at what role - if any - he played in giving the series enduring appeal.
I struggled reading Dangerous Habits. I looked hard for any dramatic trailblazing, that sense of pulling away from what came before that I found in the other two books. I couldn't find any. But I came to realise that this is in itself Garth Ennis' great gift to the series. While there are indeed many Ennis trademarks on display, such as his contempt for religion, Dangerous Habits never totally becomes a "Garth Ennis comic". Ennis casts himself into the shadow, putting John Constantine as a character at the forefront.
To illustrate this, we need only compare the closing chapter of Dangerous Habits, "Falling Into Hell", with "The Sound of Her Wings" from Preludes & Nocturnes. The two stories are ostensibly similar - both are epilogues, showing how the protagonist copes with the aftermath of the conflict resolved in the previous issue. But while I talked about "The Sound of Her Wings" being the point where Gaiman truly flexed his creative muscles and came into his own as "auteur" of The Sandman, Ennis makes himself invisible in "Falling Into Hell", with the focus honed in on John Constantine as a character, as Constantine's closing voiceover reflects:
The rain washes over me, every drop of it like liquid salt, drenching me in my own evil. It's not a pleasant burden, but at least I'm used to it. Because that's what it is to be me. To be John Constantine.
Garth Ennis brought a lot to the Hellblazer mythos over his run. But his most important contribution was making himself expendable, paving the way for the likes of Warren Ellis, Brian Azzarello and Mike Carey to have their own successful runs on the series after him. He didn't try and reinvent the wheel, and instead focused on telling the best Constantine stories he could, within the framework already in place. Garth Ennis insured that Hellblazer was not tied to one writer. No, if the writer was good enough, Hellblazer could be written by anyone.
But if this is the case, what is it that makes Hellblazer a Vertigo comic? That's pretty simple. John Constantine first appeared in Alan Moore's Swamp Thing, the book that inspired Karen Berger to instigate the "British Invasion" of American comics. When these British writers came to DC with their pitches, the popular choice was to pitch for a Constantine book, as Neil Gaiman states in the Afterword to Preludes & Nocturnes. Constantine would go on to guest star in "Dream a Little Dream of Me", the third chapter of this first collected edition of The Sandman, and would make appearances in other soon-to-be Veritgo titles. In every step towards the birth of Vertigo, John Constantine seemed to be present. Hellblazer was always going to be a Vertigo comic.
Since its inception, Vertigo has been host to some acclaimed comic books. Preacher, 100 Bullets, Fables, these and others were all made possible thanks to the groundwork laid by The Sandman, Animal Man, Hellblazer and all the other comics that pushed the boundaries, and made the creation of such an imprint necessary in the first place. Even before the launch of Vertigo in 1993, this group of comics had suitably distanced themselves from the mainstream DC Universe. Fans already grouped them under a banner they dubbed "the Bergerverse". A fitting tribute to Karen Berger, the catalyst who set it all into motion. But Vertigo is a catchier name.
Meeting #6
Since we spent this meeting so heavily focused on DC, next time round we'll show Marvel some love. We're going to discuss the state of the Marvel Universe today, how it has changed into a darker, more morally ambiguous world. What has changed in the Marvel Universe? And what role did the three selected graphic novels play in bringing Marvel into the Dark Reign it currently finds itself in?
RECOMMENDED READING:
New Avengers: Breakout
Brian Michael Bendis and David Finch
Civil War
Mark Millar and Steve McNiven
Captain America: The Death of Captain America Volume 1 – The Death of the Dream
Ed Brubaker and Steve Epting, Mike Perkins
Meeting #7
Open Forum - more details next time!