The Comics Professor

Read the introduction to A Philosopher Reads... Marvel Comics' Thor: If They Be Worthy

With the release of Thor: Love and Thunder quickly approaching, I'm pleased to share the introduction to my recent book, A Philosopher Reads... Marvel Comics' Thor: If They Be Worthy, for your enjoyment.

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Who among us has not doubted our worth or worthiness at some point in our lives? Maybe it was about our worth as a friend, family member, or romantic partner, and maybe it was as a student, employee, or volunteer. Maybe it was just an issue with our self-esteem or self-worth in general, leading us to feel inadequate in many areas of our lives. Whatever the context or degree, most of us, at one time or another, have felt we were not living up to a standard, whether set by others or by ourselves, and however reasonable (or not). When you don’t feel worthy, it can be nearly impossible to do anything, to interact with other people, and to perform the most basic tasks, even picking up a pencil, a book, or… a hammer.

Consider Thor, the Asgardian God of Thunder and son of Odin the All-Father. (Yes, I know he’s not the only Thor—I’m getting to that.) Thor must be judged worthy in order to lift his mighty hammer Mjolnir and command his full powers. Granted, his alternative is not too shabby: In the early comics, the Odinson would otherwise be Donald Blake, handsome and successful doctor, beloved by his nurse Jane Foster. In later years, other than brief periods in other mortal forms, he would remain his enormous Asgardian self, with his beloved hammer in his hand—and the worthiness it implied.

Being judged worthy by Mjolnir is, of course, very important to him, and it’s not hard to see why, especially when we realize this goal was… ahem… hammered into him from a very early age. In general, everyone appreciates some occasional external validation, even when things seem to be going fairly well for them. Often, it’s difficult to tell why people feel bad about themselves, especially when things look great for them from the outside. You may have just received a promotion at work, had your first child, or climbed your first mountain, and people would assume you’re on top of the world (literally, if you just climbed a mountain). But none of that matters if you don’t feel worthy, or if you see yourself as inferior, lacking in some way, or maybe even a loser. This is only compounded if you rely on someone else—or something else—to validate your worth for you, another entity with a mind of its own that makes judgments based on standards that may be irrelevant, unreasonable, or impossible.

Now imagine being Thor. After untold centuries of defending Asgard and the other realms from Frost Giants, Dark Elves, and the occasional Fire Demon, you suddenly find yourself judged unworthy by your beloved hammer. You’re unable to lift it, or even budge it, and then you discover someone else was able to lift it and has taken your place as the new Thor. (Never mind that Thor is actually his name—we’ll get to that too.) On occasion, other people have been able to lift the hammer momentarily, most notably Captain America, but even he didn’t “become the new Thor” when he did it. (As you may know, Cap prefers a shield anyway.) One notable exception is Beta Ray Bill, an alien from the planet Korbin who fought Thor and picked up Mjolnir, transforming into a larger, armored version of himself. Normally, whenever someone other than Thor manages to lift the hammer, it’s merely an affirmation of their worthiness. But this time, when the Odinson was found unworthy, a new Thor appeared after she lifted the hammer, sending the original into an emotional and philosophical tailspin—one we will explore in this book.

What about this new Thor? Don’t think we’ve forgotten about her—she’s a big part of this book as well. After months of secrecy and false leads, she was revealed to be none other than Jane Foster, originally Blake’s nurse and love interest, who had since become a doctor herself and remained in Thor’s life as a valued colleague and confidante. While the Odinson was struggling with unworthiness, Jane was undergoing chemotherapy to fight cancer, only to have her progress stalled each time she transformed into the Mighty Thor.

Why did Mjolnir regard Jane as worthy and the Odinson as unworthy? Had something about the Odinson changed, or did Mjolnir “change its mind” about what it regarded as worthy? Does the Odinson become worthy again—and, if so, how? More generally, who (or what) is Mjolnir to be judging worthiness anyway? Who is the appropriate judge of worthiness, others or oneself? And most important, what does it mean to be worthy—and how might it be related to unworthiness?

All these questions and more are raised in the seven years of Marvel Comics about Thor written by Jason Aaron and illustrated by a cadre of magnificent artists such as Russell Dauterman and Esad Ribić. In this book, we will follow the saga of these two Thors, as told by Aaron and his artistic collaborators, thinking about the philosophical concept of worthiness as we go.

We will start with how worthiness was understood in the early comics, which matches many of our basic intuitions about what makes a person worthy, but also leaves many questions that will be answered as we go on. When Aaron’s run begins, we will see Thor begin to have doubts about his own worthiness as well as the worthiness of gods in general. This will raise the topic of what being a “god” means to an Asgardian and how this version of godhood can translate to our world. After the Odinson is declared unworthy, we will follow Jane Foster’s tenure as Thor, exploring how and why Mjolnir regards her as worthy, as well as the ways her worthiness may be different from that of her predecessor. As she fights to assert herself as the new Thor on Earth as well as on Asgard—Odin is not a fan, to put it mildly—the original Thor is left to deal with his own unworthiness, which gives us the chance to discuss how one experiences and deals with such feelings and begins to combat them. Finally, we will come to a deeper understanding of worthiness alongside the Odinson, and watch as he rejoins Jane to fight beside her before she… well, let’s leave something for later, shall we?

I’m excited that you’ve chosen to join me on this philosophical journey through one of the most fascinating and exciting storylines in a half-century of Thor comics. (And that includes the ones about the frog.) Jason Aaron and his artistic partners have given us a unique way to explore many dimensions of worthiness by observing how Thor Odinson and Jane Foster each deal with the burdens of being the God of Thunder, as well as why they were chosen—or, in the Odinson’s case, rejected—as being worthy of the honor. I wrote this book to be enjoyed by anyone, whether you’re new to Thor or philosophy, or you’re a longtime fan of either (or both). Regardless, when you reach the end of the book, I hope that, not only will you feel entertained and have a deeper appreciation for the stories of Thor, but you will have new ways to think about any issues you may have about your own worth, value, or self-esteem.

Copyright © Mark D. White 2022

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See here for more on the book, including the table of contents, reviews, and related podcasts.

Buy the book at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or IndieBound.

Cap calls out Tony's self-deprecation in Captain America/Iron Man #2

Captain America is in a weird spot these days, and it has nothing to do with the Red Skull or Hydra. (At least, not that we know.) Since Ta-Nehisi Coates' run on Captain America ended in July 2020, the Sentinel of Liberty has been without an ongoing monthly title. (UPDATE: This changes in April, as revealed here.) Instead, he has been featured in miniseries with assorted friends, starting with The United States of Captain America, in which he worked with Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes, and even that scamp John Walker, as well as a number of people across the country fighting in Cap's name. (It was an excellent series that I hope to write about soon.)

Currently, the Captain America/Iron Man miniseries features Cap alongside his fellow Avenger and frequent sparring partner in their first extended team-up since their three-issue story in #633-635 of Cap's team-up book in 2012 (included in the Captain America and the Avengers trade paperback). In it, they have teamed up in pursuit of Veronica Eden, an old acquaintance of Tony's who is trying to take over Hydra. Also after her is Fifty-One, a former member of the Fifty-State Initiative, an idea that Tony implemented after the Civil War, which placed a trained and government-sanctioned superhero team in every state (chronicled in the Avengers: The Initiative series). To complicate matters further, the rest of Fifty-One's team, made up for former Initiative members, is after him at the same time, which prompts some reflection on Tony's part about the Initiative itself.

Through it all, Cap and Tony engage in casual conversations that are quickly turn rather deep, revealing a little-seen aspect of a friendship that has weathered more than its share of disagreement (to say the least!).

At the start of issue #2, Cap and Tony confer with the former... Initiants (?)... who are actually calling themselves the Paladins, after this guy, I guess? (Odd choice.) After letting them go after Fifty-One by themselves (while planning to follow up with them later), our two heroes visit Tony's new pad to chat. Our host maintains the humorous, self-deprecating tone he's had since the first issue of the series, which seems like an effective defense mechanism when talking to the Living Legend of World War II, but as we'll see later, Cap doesn't allow it to go unquestioned.

I have to laugh at Tony's statement below, because this has happened so many times to him in one way or another. But it's Cap's response that I find more interesting, both existentialist in his emphasis of self-creation and authenticity, as well as Stoic in his recommending acceptance of events outside your control (both of which are reminiscent of the Serenity Prayer).

Next, Cap questions the wisdom of Yoda, again from the Stoic (and, later, Kantian) point of view that all we can do is try, acting on our best intentions, and whether we succeed or not is out of our hands, determined by the interaction of our efforts with the external world.

Let me put in a good word for Tony, though: What he (and Yoda) may have meant is that, from a motivational point of view, we shouldn't intend to try to succeed at something, because that openly acknowledges the possibility of failure. That possibility is always there, of course, but we need to put it out of our minds to maximize the chances of success. This also applies to making a promise, whether to yourself or someone else: Declaring "I'll try to do better" is not an effective as "I'll do better." Both acknowledge the possibility of failing to follow through on the promise, but the language of "try" makes this possibility explicit, and therefore can suggest a less wholehearted intention. (Wedding vows can be seen the same way: You can promise to love each other "til death do you part" while implicitly acknowledging that this may not happen, because it's only the intent that counts.)

I just love the next panel—all too often, Cap pokes fun at his habit of speechifying, and here he simply embraces it, but not without a touch of self-awareness that he can sometimes be a bit over the top.

After they catch up with the Paladins at a decommissioned SHIELD bunker where Eden and Fifty-One are holed up, Cap proves himself extraordinarily perceptive, seeing through Tony's armor that he's upset, this time about the failure of his Fifty-State Initiative, which ironically ended up creating the same problem that led to the Civil War in the first place.

Cap raises a practical issue about the Initiative, that the hero business is driven by demand, not supply...

...and then Tony goes and makes a completely unwarranted crack about my home state and I lose any sympathy I may have developed for him. (You were so close, Tony, so close.)

Cap acknowledges that Tony's idea behind the Initiative was sound; after all, Cap often recognizes that superheroes are too concentrated in New York City and on several occasions he has toured the country to see the rest of America and help people wherever they need it. Instead, his issues with his Initiative focused on how it was implemented, reflecting his opposition to registration itself during the Civil War.

I'm curious, though: Tony says Cap hated the Initiative, and it makes sense why he would think that, but I don't remember this being shown in the comics. After all, Cap was "dead" for most of the time the Initiative existed, and while he and Tony discussed the general principles behind the Civil War after his return (mainly in the Avengers Prime miniseries), I don't remember them discussing the Initiative specifically, which was all but forgotten after the Siege on Asgard ended Norman Osborn's "Dark Reign" and launched "The Heroic Age" with Steve Rogers running the show.

As they fight Eden's goons, Cap continues to try to make Tony feel better, but Tony deflects the praise with self-deprecating comments.

Cap isn't having it, and calls him out on it, but Tony continues, in a strangely humble-bragging way.

But Cap doesn't relent, telling Tony he knows who he really is, not just inside his Iron Man armor, but the emotional armor he wears... around his heart.

This exchange ends with Tony profoundly uncomfortable, as many of us are when "confronted" with sincere compliments, and he confronts Cap in turn in an attempt to change the subject.

All joking aside, this can seem weird, especially if you're used to seeing Captain America and Iron Man throw down over ideological differences (as I have certainly emphasized myself). But most of the time they have worked together over the years, Cap and Tony have been good friends, if uneasy ones at times, and I really appreciate that this miniseries has shown them reconnecting on this level as they work a case together, delving deep into both of their characters in a way that is better shown in their interactions than by looking at each character in isolation.

My thoughts on Spider-Man: No Way Home

SPOILERS FOR SPIDER-MAN: NO WAY HOME BELOW! SO MANY SPOILERS!

My son and I saw the new Spider-Man film yesterday afternoon in a large theater with about twenty other people—which was a Christmas miracle, given how most showings sold out over opening weekend and our hesitation to see it amongst a large crowd in the current environment. In anticipation of this event, we rewatched all the earlier Spidey flicks over the last couple months, which really paid off, given how well No Way Home wrapped up the entire franchise to date, while setting an interesting direction for future installments.

Below I share a few of my thoughts about the movie. Before I start, I should warn you: I haven't read any other commentary or reviews yet, so it's quite likely that everything I have to say has already been said. (Still, no refunds!)

1. Generally, everyone involved with this film pulled off an incredible juggling act, balancing the core story of Spider-Man and his amazing friends MJ and Ned with the multiversal spectacle of numerous guest-stars from the pre-MCU films. I had heard the rumors and had seen the set pictures, but I successfully avoided getting confirmation of who showed up in the movie before I saw it. Perhaps the most impressive aspect of this was that, with one notable exception (see #5-7 below), none of the invited guests were mere cameos; all of them had meaningful character beats and important roles to play in the story. Specifically, I was expecting the earlier Spideys to show up at the last minute to help out with the final fight, and was pleasantly surprised that they arrived early enough for some great character work between them.
2. Continuing with that thought: The casual interactions between Tobey Maguire, Andrew Garfield, and Tom Holland, some touching and others funny, were some of my favorite moments of the movie. Tobey was the chill, elder statesman of the three, a more confident and competent version of Jake Johnson's Spidey from Into the Multiverse. In contrast, Andrew was still tormented by the death of Gwen Stacy in his second movie, now living a self-imposed life of solitude and self-loathing. Tobey sweetly tried to counter this ("You're amazing! Say it! Say you're amazing!"), but it takes the opportunity to save MJ from a similar fall that allows Andrew to start to move past his grief and guilt. And Tom took the leadership role while casually throwing out references to going into space and being an Avenger, which the others hilariously did not understand—but even better was seeing Andrew and Tom marvel at Toby being able to shoot webs out of his wrists instead of relying on homemade webshooters and webbing. (Now that's what I call fan service, given the endless debates about organic vs. mechanical webshooters on message boards.)
3. I was relieved to see that Doctor Strange was not the co-star of the movie, as the trailer suggested. (I get it: After all, they couldn't show much else). I was afraid he'd play the father figure that Tony Stark and Quentin Beck did in Holland's first two movies; instead, there was a great older hero/younger hero dynamic between them that thankfully stopped short of mentor/mentee. (And hey, was that Zelma, from the Jason Aaron and Chris Bachalo run of the comics, cleaning up the snow in the Sanctum Sanctorum?)
4. Holland's dedication to trying to save.help/cure the assorted villains, as opposed to Doctor Strange's plan to return them to their home universes to face their deaths, was perhaps the most positively surprising aspect of the story. This reflected the traditional Spider-Man idealism (especially during the Dan Slott "no one dies" period) and exemplified the less reactive or defensive approach to superheroing we often see these days among the younger set, such as Ms. Marvel or Squirrel Girl. (Although, to be fair, one of Batman's greatest regrets is not being able to help or redeem his worst villains, especially those like Two-Face who were once on the side of good, as I discuss in Batman and Ethics.) It was also nice to see that, other than Norman Osborn, the villains weren't truly evil; rather, each had been "turned" in his own way, which the Spideys were able to reverse, setting them back on the righteous path.
5. MATT MURDOCK!
6. CHARLIE COX AS MATT MURDOCK!
7. "I'm a very good lawyer." Fantastic line at the perfect time. (But I'm sad they missed the chance to have Matt turn in Happy's direction, take a sniff or listen intently for a second, and say "Foggy?")
8. Most important, this movie fixed what I've regarded as the biggest flaw of the first two MCU Spider-Man films: the absence of a motivating tragedy that serves to convince Peter to dedicate himself to helping people and doing what's right, regardless of the personal cost (which is consistently high). In the comics and the last two iterations in the movies, this crucial event has always been the death of Uncle Ben, which Tobey references as his greatest loss, while Andrew understandably focuses on Gwen. But the MCU movies chose for some reason to neglect Uncle Ben altogether (other than occasional suggestions of his past existence in this universe), leaving Peter to be a more carefree, happy-go-lucky wallcrawler, reveling in playing dress-up with Iron Man and the Avengers but not really motivated to be a hero for its own sake. But with this movie, Aunt May takes Uncle Ben's place, and her death becomes the horrible tragedy that Peter feels responsible for and will spend the rest of his life trying to rise up from. To paraphrase a popular political saying, with this movie Peter Parker became Spider-Man...
9. ...and he proves this by making a tremendous sacrifice at the end to save the multiverse, asking Doctor Strange to erase all memory of Peter Parker's existence, including MJ and Ned, the two closest people to him left in the world. (It will be very interesting to see how Peter goes about rebuilding these relationships in the upcoming "college trilogy.") The fact that he did so without hesitation and with full awareness of the incredible personal cost shows that this Peter Parker has become the Spider-Man we know and love.

All in all, Spider-Man: No Way Home was a stunning achievement by all involved, and it only heighten my excitement for what director Jon Watts does with the upcoming Fantastic Four film.

New book: A Philosopher Reads... Marvel Comics' Thor: If They Be Worthy

I'm very pleased to announce my next book, A Philosopher Reads... Marvel Comics' Thor: If They Be Worthy, coming out next year from Ockham Publishing ahead of the highly anticipated film Thor: Love and Thunder. (Information about pricing and pre-ordering are coming soon.) UPDATE: It's now available.

From the publisher website:

We all know the Mighty Thor: Prince of Asgard, son of Odin the All-Father, and God of Thunder. He has long been one of the few in the universe worthy to wield the mystic hammer Mjolnir… until, one day, he is not. Soon, a new Thor emerges, a woman who commands the thunder and the hammer in ways all her own. She is none other than Jane Foster, and as she learns to be her own version of the Mighty Thor, the Odinson can only watch and wonder why he is no longer worthy, while this new Thor clearly is.

This is not just the story of two Thors, though. This is a tale of worthiness: what it means, how it can be lost, and how one can reclaim it. This is the journey of a god-prince, born and raised to be a hero who wields the ultimate weapon, who suddenly finds himself unable to even budge it and has to struggle to relearn who he is and what it means to be a god. This is also the adventure of Dr Jane Foster, battling the scourge of cancer whilst juggling the responsibilities of being a god, before being forced to choose between the two.

In this book, philosopher Mark D. White, author of A Philosopher Reads Marvel Comics’ Civil War and The Virtues of Captain America, introduces you to the world of Thor and leads you through the legendary saga of Jane and the Odinson, written by Jason Aaron and drawn by Esad Ribić, Russell Dauterman, and many others. Along the way, White draws on Western and Eastern thought, ethics and existentialism, as he explores the philosophy of self-worth and worthiness, as well as questioning the nature of gods in the Marvel Universe.

Written in his characteristic light style, A Philosopher Reads Marvel Comics’ Thor is the perfect mix of superheroes and philosophy, accessible to new fans as well as experienced Asgardian travelers.

This is the long-awaited second entry in the A Philosopher Reads... series, following my book on the Marvel Comics "Civil War." It is a slim volume, about a third as long as the Civil War book (as well as my other books on Captain America and Batman); as the series moves forward, I will alternate between "full-length" books, covering the entire history of a superhero or team, and "novella" length ones, focusing on a specific storyline or period. (The third entry, already in the works, is planned to be full-length, but more of them after that will be novella length.)

As the description above says, A Philosopher Reads... Marvel Comics' Thor: If They Be Worthy covers the seven years of Thor comics written by Jason Aaron in collaboration with magnificent artists such as Esad Ribić and Russell Dauterman, starting with Thor: God of Thunder #1 in January 2013 and ending with King Thor #4 in February 2020, covering four volumes of Thor comics plus miniseries such as The Unworthy Thor, War of the Realms, and King Thor. (To provide background for these stories, as well as the characters and concepts in them, I discuss plenty of older Thor comics too—the reference list is quite exhaustive, trust me!)

It is also the first superhero-and-philosophy book of mine that is not based primarily on ethics, focusing instead on different philosophical aspects of the concepts of worth and worthiness as suggested in the adventures of Thor from 1960s to today, plus other concepts relevant to the story, such as godhood, humanity, and mortality, all of which Jane Foster and the Odinson struggle with in their own unique ways.

I'm sure I will have much more to say about this book in coming months, possibly including podcasts and videos (!), but for now I'll just say this: A Philosopher Reads... Marvel Comics' Thor: If They Be Worthy is a love letter to the concept and legacy of Thor, including both the Odinson and Jane Foster, and especially the incredible storytelling of Aaron, Ribić, Dauterman, and others. It is an honor to write about these characters and concepts, for which we all owe an Asgardian-sized debt to Stan Lee and Jack Kirby, and I can only hope I have done them, and everyone involved, justice with my words.

Daredevil nails a crucial difference between utilitarianism and deontology in Daredevil #36

SPOILERS FOR THE CURRENT RUN OF DAREDEVIL BELOW!

For the last year, Daredevil has been in prison, where he was sentenced in Daredevil #24 for second-degree manslaughter, resulting from the eventual death of a burglar he beat up in the first issue of the current run. Since he's been incarcerated—as Daredevil, mind you, avec mask but sans costume—Elektra has been protecting Hell's Kitchen as the new Daredevil (as seen on the cover to the right), and his twin brother Mike has been posing as Matt Murdock to preserve his secret identity. (If you think Mike Murdock was simply a farcical disguise Matt used in the past to do this, you obviously haven't read 2020's Daredevil Annual #1.)

In Daredevil #36 (released December 1, 2021), by writer Chip Zdarsky, penciller Manuel Garcia, inkers Cam Smith, Scott Hanna, and Victor Nava, and colorists Marcio Menyz and Bryan Valenza, the Man without Fear is once again a free man, although he was preoccupied the last few weeks of his sentence with battling against both corruption inside the prison and clones of Bullseye outside of it. After wrapping up both matters in the previous issue, the authorities tried to arrest Daredevil for being a fugitive from justice; several of his fellow superheroes argued the necessity of his breakout and the good he did, and a video recording of their argument with the police soon went viral. In the end, Matt turned himself in, presumably to show, as he did when he submitted to his initial trial and accepted the prosecution's plea offer, that superheroes must be accountable to the same laws they help enforce—although, over Zdarsky's run of the book, he has become more and more skeptical of the criminal justice system that ultimately carries that responsibility.

After reconnecting with both his brother and Elektra, Matt—now very furry of face, which I hope is not a permanent state of affairs—returns to patrolling Hell's Kitchen, and comes across two young men who had just knocked over a bodega. More concerned with helping them turn their lives around then sending them to prison, especially given his recent experiences, Matt lets them go and gives the bag of stolen loot back to the store owner... which comes as a surprise to Reed Richards, who by then had also arrived on the scene.

Reed shares Matt's concerns about reassuring a worried public that they can trust superheroes, but they differ on how much deference they should show "the system" in order to do this. As he did during the fight over superhuman registration that he references—and despite the fact that his support of registration almost ended his marriage—Reed stands by the legal system, despite its flaws, and wants to devise an optimal strategy in accordance with it, as well as optics of the current situation.

In contrast, Matt asks a simple question—"What's right?"—and then draws out the difference between what philosopher W.D. Ross characterized as "the right and the good" (in his book of the same title). Effectively, Matt is contrasting Reed's utilitarianism, in which he calculates the myriad contributing factors to an issue to arrive at a conclusion regarding the best course of action to take, with Matt's own deontological approach, which dismisses empirical contingencies in favor of using principle to determine the right thing to do.

Matt drives the point home when he acknowledges Reed's brilliance, but suggests that it's distracting him from the simple moral truth.

To be fair, determining what's right is not necessarily simpler than determining what's good or best; both require the use of judgment to weigh the various moral factors that are relevant to a problematic situation. (I discuss this reference to Captain America and Iron Man's conflicting moral perspectives, very similar to Matt's and Reed's, and the different use of judgment they each require, in my book A Philosopher Reads Marvel Comics' Civil War.) But Matt obviously feels, at least in this case, that he has identified the right thing to do—showing mercy to the two young men and sparing them the "justice" of the system that Matt feels is broken—and he has decided that no other factors, including the effect of his actions on public opinion, are relevant to that decision, amounting to mere "noise" that's "drowning out what's right."

This is not to say Reed doesn't have a point as well. As we saw above, Reed recognizes the flaws in the system, which we can safely assume he has included in his determination of what is the best thing to do overall; it simply wasn't the conclusive factor in the end. For his part, Matt also showed he realizes the importance of optics when he turned himself in again after putting down the prison riot and helping to defeat the Bullseyes; nonetheless, he didn't find it relevant to his conclusion (which is a different moral logic than Reed's considering the flaws of the system but finding other factors more significant). Both heroes weighed the same options, but in different ways and with different conclusions, which shows how equally moral persons can nonetheless disagree, in good faith, on ethical problems based on their unique ethical perspectives.

Don't believe for a minute that this issue is settled, especially for Matt Murdock. After all, he has seen the criminal justice system from many sides—defense attorney, prosecutor, defendant, and incarcerated felon—and he has long had to deal with the conflict between the law he is dedicated to upholding and the ideal of justice to which the law is only an approximation, as well the conflict between the law, ideally based on justice, and the imperfections of the criminal justice system, designed and implemented by human beings to enforce that law in the real world. (And we didn't even mention the conflict presented by the dual roles he has chosen to play in this drama!)

A Sentinel Centennial: Thoughts upon the 100th post at the Virtues of Captain America blog

Thanks to Vince Skolny for the title of this post!

Today's post on Captain America #176—the pivotal issue that bridges the "Secret Empire" and "Nomad" storylines—marks the 100th post at the Virtues of Captain America blog. The blog launched on July 9, 2018, just under eleven months ago, with Avengers #4, and I've regularly posted twice a week (occasionally thrice).

Before we get to the more substantive thoughts, please allow me to indulge in a bit of personal satisfaction in this. I always imagine and plan grand ongoing projects, but I've had very little success actually starting them, much less sticking with them very long. (I tend to write my books in a few months, although the research periods have been longer, especially with the Cap and Batman books, in which 40-50 years of comics had to be read or re-read. "Nice work if you can get it," I know.) Being aware of this, I wrote about fifty posts before I even bought the Wordpress site or mentioned the project online, just to make sure I would maintain interest long enough to make it worthwhile. Now, nearly a year later, with a hundred posts online and over forty more in the can, I see no end in sight, and there are a lot more comics to cover: Today's post is an August 1974 issue, and the prepared posts go through the end of 1977. (What year is it now? I don't even know anymore.)

The motivating premise of the Virtues of Captain America blog was that almost every substantial appearance of Captain America in a Marvel comic since his defrosting in 1964—those in which he does more than simply appear in a large group scene or shout "Avengers Assemble!"—explicitly reflects some aspect of the his moral character (as described in my book of the same name), because the character of Captain America is defined by his ethics to a greater degree than is any other superhero. That claim was tested in these first 100 posts, as a significant number of his earliest appearances, both in his own titles and Avengers, certainly showed general heroism but few specific virtues. On the whole, though, I think I've been able to draw enough ethical content of interest out of even the "thinnest" issues to make their blog posts worthwhile (albeit not dedicated posts to those single issues), while having fun with them all. The blog is currently in the middle of Steve Englehart's groundbreaking run, which is generating longer and more substantive posts, and this trend will only accelerate when I get to the runs by Roger Stern, J.M. DeMatteis, Mark Gruenwald, and Mark Waid, just to name a few.

Because I did cover several comics at a time in many posts, I have discussed more than 100 issues so far. In fact, if my count is correct, I've covered 242 comics: 119 issues of Tales of Suspense and Captain America, 99 issues of Avengers, and 24 other comics in which Cap appeared, spanning just over a decade, from March 1964 through August 1974. Out of these first 242 comics, I cited only 41 in my book, which suggests that, even though nearly every appearance of Cap contains some reflection of his moral character, many of these are mere passing references that didn't merit mention in a book that relied on the most prominent and definitive strongest statements. (Or maybe the book should have been a lot longer.)

As the comics I cover gradually have more material of ethical interest, I have also found that I have to synopsize the stories more than I expected, if only to provide sufficient context for the panels and quotes I want to discuss. I don't mind that, and I have enjoyed doing that in the books, especially when the focus is on Cap's behavior through an entire story, but I didn't expect to do it as much at the blog. Even more enjoyable have been the posts in which I can indulge in a little comics history, which you'll see a lot more when coverage of Roy Thomas's Invaders run starts soon, a masterclass in retroactive continuity in the classic sense as gaps and inconsistencies in comics history are explained and forgotten characters revived for new readers. (We already got a taste of this in the post on Captain America #155, written by Steve Englehart based on a Roy Thomas idea, which explained the 1950s appearances of Cap and Bucky even though, according to 1964's Avengers #4, they were "killed" before the end of World War II; we see a bit also in the post on Giant-Size Avengers #1, which previews the two men who served as Captain America in the late 1940s, explained in What If? #4 in 1977.)

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As work on the Virtues of Captain America blog progresses, I sometimes think, "I really ought to consolidate some of these posts and write something covering a larger number of comics, possibly centered around one aspect of his ethical behavior"... until I realize I already did that when I wrote the damn book. There are, of course, great comics that came out after I finished the book, such as Captain America vol. 7 #14, from which the images in this tweet from @widowsmaximoff are drawn. (I managed to slip in issue #10 from that run at the last minute during production of the book, but #14 came out too late.) Perhaps I may write some overarching posts once I get to comics from 2014 and on, but until then, I stand by the book as far as a summary of Cap's moral character is concerned. (That is, unless Wiley wants an updated second edition.

<clears throat>

I said, unless Wiley wants an updated second edition.

<crickets>

Oh well.

But that got me thinking: What would it be like to write a book that way, first blogging about individual issues and then consolidating the ideas from them into a book? As it is, I take copious notes on comics in preparation for a book, so this would just involve making my notes public and presentable. It seems like much more work—but then again, I already spend a lot of time retyping, coding, and sorting the notes, so the blogging about the issues may not be that much additional work (depending, of course, on how much content and polish I put into each post).

One advantage to doing the book before the blog, though, is that I can write each blog post with the knowledge of the complete scope and history of the character. When I write about Cap's 60s and 70s comics, I know what's coming, and I can put the early stories in the context of what comes later—something I couldn't do as well if I blogged as I read (even if I have some knowledge of the entire run). It might work for the Fantastic Four, because I've read the entire run, and might have worked for Batman, because I'd read most everything before I started re-reading for the book, but not for Iron Man, Thor, or Daredevil, to whom I am just as devoted but about whom my reading is less complete. Also, the blog-first method would probably not work well with respect to a publishing deadline (absent a very strict and manageable blogging routine on my part, ha), so it would be best to try with a project I would plan to self-publish—especially if it turns out that, at the end of the day, I don't want to write the book anymore!

I joke, but that's a serious consideration (complementing what I said earlier about finding it difficult to sustain interest over a long period of time). Part of the appeal of writing a book for me is discovery. Although I usually have some idea of what I'm going to say, books always end up significantly different than imagined or planned. Writing a book when I know exactly what it's going to say feels like an exercise in transcription (although in actuality the focus simply changes from figuring out what to write to figuring out how to write it well, which is no less important a task). Obviously, consolidating the themes of hundreds of blog posts is still work, but if nothing new comes from seeing the forest over the trees, I don't know if I'd be motivated to take this huge step. But it's an interesting thought nonetheless, and I might consider it for a "passion project" that is for me—and up to me—alone, even if other people like it too.

Kind of like the Virtues of Captain America blog itself.

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Anyway... here's to the next 100 posts! Thank you to all who have been reading, whether you've been there from the first or have just found the blog recently. If you have any ideas how to improve the site, either in terms of content or appearance, please feel free to let me know in the comments below. (I would like to spruce the site up, but my talents, assuming I have any, definitely lie elsewhere!)

And if I see you around, as Cap says...

(Oh Thor... and you wonder why you're not worthy anymore.)

My thoughts on Avengers: Endgame (Spoilers clearly marked)

Well that was something!

After rewatching Avengers: Infinity War Thursday night, I saw Avengers: Endgame Friday morning by myself—well, me and the hundred other people in the sold-out small theater, but you knew what I meant—and then again with my kids in a much larger (but still sold out) IMAX theater. I grouse a lot about the modern movie experience, what with the ubiquitous cellphones and incessant chattering, and I've been going to the movies less and less the last several years because of it, but this was an occasion that demanded and justified the full social experience. The Friday audience was quiet, applauding only at the end of the movie, but the Saturday crowd was into it, cheering at every character introduction and revelation throughout the entire film. As many comic book fans of a certain age have noted, we were ostracized for our hobby as kids (and perhaps even more so as adults), so it's immensely gratifying to arrive in the year 2019 where we can sit in a theater with several hundred people, only a fraction of whom have likely every read a comic book, and cheer together to the exploits of the heroes of our childhood (and adulthood).

What about the movie itself? Again, I'm afraid I don't have much to say that probably hasn't already been said, and if you're looking for dispassionate criticism and analysis, look elsewhere my friend. I'm writing as an unabashed fan here.

Avengers: Endgame is a magnificent film, filling every last one of its 181 minutes without a lull, with excellent pacing and balance between its many subplots and storylines, and hitting every last emotional note it needed to. I'm frankly astonished at the magnitude of this movie and how well it put a bow on the unprecedented 22-film story that is the Marvel Cinematic Universe—so well, in fact, that I had a distinct feeling of loss at the end, not just for any events in the film itself, but for this initial stage of the franchise itself.

There isn't much more I can say without giving away story details, so this is where I warn...

THERE BE SPOILERS AFTER THIS GLORIOUS GIF OF GONEMMENEMMENEMMENON!

(Did you remember that he said that in Infinity War? I have to admit I did not, until I rewatched it Thursday night, after which I felt really stupid for forgetting it. Of course you remembered it, because you're all very smart.)

Here are my thoughts, with varying significance and coherence, starting with the six original Avengers themselves.

Captain America. As you might guess, my favorite moments were those centered on Captain America, who received a fantastic send-off. Before he "retired," he managed to poke a little fun at his catchphrase "I can do this all day" as well as his fan-favorite rear end, and also wield the mighty Mjolnir (as he has several times in the comics), which brought perhaps the loudest round of cheers in the Saturday showing. (And I have to wonder how much Nick Spencer paid the Russos to have Cap say those two little words. They used it well, but geez guys, give us some warning next time!)

Most interesting, compared to the comics, was that Cap retired at all. A constant theme, which I highlight often at my The Virtues of Captain America blog as well as the book of the same name, is that he continually feels the contrasting pulls of duty and love (or "mission" versus "life") and reliably picks the former. As much as he feels he's done enough and deserves happiness, he always returns to the shield, without fail. Of course, given the realities of comic book publishing where established characters rarely change too much, this is understandable, but Evans's retirement gave the filmmakers the opportunity to have their Cap make the other choice—while leaving a world with a very capable successor in Sam Wilson. (This makes me wonder if the announced Disney streaming series featuring Falcon and the Winter Soldier was just a ruse, or if it was always meant to be about Sam as Cap and Bucky helping him.)

Iron Man. Despite the tremendous moments that Cap had in this film, the emotional center was definitely Tony Stark, which was appropriate given that it was Iron Man, as played by Robert Downey Jr., that got this entire party started in 2008. For the same reason, it made sense that he would die while dealing Thanos the final blow (or snap). (I like to think that, as he usually does in the comics, he uploaded a version of his consciousness into a computer so he can be the AI in a successor's armor, whether that successor is Pepper, which is doubtful, or someone like Riri Williams, Ironheart from the comics, who did have an AI version of Tony in her helmet for a while.)

Speaking of Pepper, it was amazing to see her in the armor, even if (as I suspect) just for this one time. We all knew it was coming after the earlier scene with little Morgan, but to actually see it... that elicited another huge cheer from the Saturday crowd (as did the collection of the MCU's incredible collection of female heroes protecting Peter and the gauntlet at the end). And seeing her fighting back-to-back with Tony... that, together with the stakes of the situation, made me forgive the fact that, as Rescue in the comics, Pepper's armor had no weaponry.

(And Tony's final words to his daughter, "I love you three thousand"... I'm tearing up again as I type it.)

Black Widow and Hawkeye. Black Widow made the ultimate sacrifice, of course, to Hawkeye's objections. (I'm sure he felt he should be the one to die, given the fact that he had racked up quite a few murders in the preceding five years, but would good ol' Frank have done the same thing?) But, I suspect she will be back, depending on how Cap "returned" the Soul Stone in his reverse-time-heist before getting hitched and living out his days as Married Old Man Steve. If the goal was to restore the original timelines, did he just give the stone back to the Red Skull—I really want to see that conversation—or did he just prevent Nat from sacrificing herself in the first place? And if he gave it back, could he somehow have saved Nat? (If only Evans didn't want to retire, I would ask for a streaming series on Cap's trips in the past to restore the Stones. Hear that, Feige?)

The Hulk. The newly chill Hulk was wonderful (calling back to Bruce's efforts at maintaining inner peace when Nat found him the first Avengers movie), especially with the kids who wanted their picture with him, with Scott when he saw he'd lost his taco, and especially when revisiting the Battle of New York and having to fake his old raging self. It also made his sadness and grief more apparent after losing Natasha, when he did show his anger a little more.

Thor. And of course, "the Odinson abides." This was the one part I think they took a little too far, though it provided some great laughs, especially with Rocket (who would imagined those two would make such a great pair, in both Infinity War and Engame), and a touching moment with his mother. I was sorry we didn't see him interact with Jane, though, which leads to my next comment...

Playing with time. What better way to pay tribute to the entire 22-film series than revisit some key scenes from the earlier films to the process of finding the Infinity Stones in the past? That was simply brilliant. Both times I saw it I tried to figure out which scenes which pulled from the earlier films, such as the famous shot of the six Avengers standing back-to-back in a circle during the Battle of New York, and which ones were new, such as the elevator scene in New York (calling back to Captain America: Winter Soldier even though it was set during Avengers) and the subsequent lobby scene with Alexander Pierce (also from Winter Soldier), which featured a key move from Loki (who managed to play an integral role despite dying early in Infinity War). I have to assume the quick shot of Jane Foster was old and Natalie Portman didn't shoot any new footage—otherwise, I think someone would have interacted with her. What's more, I found it very clever of the Russos to use the time travel device (plot device, that is) to bring in the Ancient One as well as the younger Howard Stark, Jarvis, and best of all, Peggy Carter.

There's so much more I could mention, such as the emotional reunion of Peter Parker with Tony Stark, the return of the Wakandans, Valkyrie on her magnificent flying steed, Janet van Dyne (!) at the end, and Captain Marvel's limited but effective role (my favorite scene of hers being when she met Peter, showing that she doesn't have to be fierce all the time). My one complaint: I wish they would have done more to show the return of half the life in the universe than Clint getting a call from his wife and Scott seeing more birds outside. I realize the movie was long enough as it is, but just a 30-second montage of people hugging returned loved ones around the world (and on other words) would have been nice to show the enormity of what our heroes accomplished (before Thanos arrived and blowed them up but good).

That ending. The funeral scene, with the slow pan over the entire cast of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, was poignant in its intimacy as well as breathtaking in its scope, showing the scale of that universe with all the sub-franchises contained in it, and everyone paying tribute to the hero that started it all. as well as, I like to think, the actor—very much still alive—that played him so well.

That other ending. Even though, in spirit, the series began and ended with Tony Stark, as a Cap fan I appreciated that the final shot of the film showed Steve and Peggy dancing (I assume in the late 1940s), picking up not long after where they left off when Cap made the ultimate sacrifice himself in his first film. That gave the movie, which was incredibly heavy emotionally, an optimistic conclusion, showing that true love and lasting happiness is indeed possible... if you have Pym particles and a time machine. (If anyone knows where I can get these things, let me know!)

That other other ending. The cast credits, ending with tributes to the six that started it all, really drove home that this is the end of an era, even if it is also the beginning of a new one. It really hit me, especially on my second viewing, that this was the last time we'll see some of these characters on the big screen, and what they, along with everyone else involved in these films, have accomplished. Twenty-two interlinking movies in twelve years, most of them standing fairly well on their own and each mini-franchise possessing its own unique aesthetic, but all feeding to a large narrative... just like the Marvel Universe of the comics.

And that, perhaps more than even the faithful renditions of the characters and the Easter eggs for the diehards, is what makes the MCU gratifying to comics fans: The movies feel like the comics. With both, we can revel in the continuity of the large-scale narrative at the same time that we appreciate each individual story, scene, and line. Not all of the movies need to be equally good, and you don't have to like every character as much as your favorites, but you can still enjoy most if not all of the movies on their own and the series as a whole. (For my part, I regard all 22 movies as at least good, with most of them very good and a few of them excellent.)

What's even better than that? As I mentioned at the beginning, my childhood obsession is now a cultural phenomenon. And when an entire large theater erupts in cheers, five minutes into the movie, at the first appearance of Captain Marvel—a character introduced into the mainstream consciousness in her first movie just a few months ago—you know that something amazing has happened. I'm thrilled to have been there to experience it... and I can't wait to see what happens next.

Ta-Nehisi Coates and Leinil Francis Yu's Captain America #1: A great start that hits all the right notes, some of them new.

Marvel Comics nicely timed the release of the latest Captain America #1—by Ta-Nehisi Coates, Leinil Francis Yu, Gerry Alanguilan, Sunny Gho, and Joe Caramagna—for July 4th, and this is appropriate for so many reasons. The most obvious is that this is a new start for the Sentinel of Liberty, but it also fits the state he's in, struggling to reclaim the trust he lost during the entire Secret Empire episode when a version of Cap, altered by a sentient Cosmic Cube to believe himself to be a lifelong undercover Hydra agent, helped the fascist organization take over America with him as its figurehead. At the end of the story (which I discussed here), the Cube created a new version of Cap from her memories, who quickly defeated Hydra-Cap, went on a motorcycle tour of America (in Mark Waid's short run with Chris Samnee and Leonardo Romero), and now stars in his new run, where he has to come face-to-face with "his" recent past in a number of ways.

This book is everything I want for a launch of a new Cap title: a solid focus on his virtues and his patriotism in the context of fantastic superheroics, with plenty of room for his supporting cast. Coates provides Cap's ongoing internal narrative throughout the book while also doing a fine job of capturing the other characters' voices and motivations (chiefly Sharon Carter and Bucky Barnes). The art is simply breathtaking, with Yu turning in the work of his career, lightly but deftly fleshed out by Alanguilan, and endowed with a subdued palette by Gho, with a wealth of greens and browns to contrast with Cap's red, white, and blue. Caramagna, as always, letters in a way in keep the exposition, dialogue, and art clear, tying the entire effort together. (And we can't forgot the glorious by Alex Ross, shown above! Click to enlarge, and just gaze at it for a while.)

Captain America #700 reminds us who Steve Rogers is...

The final issue of Captain America by the now-classic team of Mark Waid, Chris Samnee, Matthew Wilson, and Joe Caramagna was, appropriately enough, the bonus-sized issue #700, and true to its anniversary status, it serves as a reaffirmation of who Steve Rogers is. In wrapping up their near-future storyline, the team puts Cap in an impossible situation, forces him to make a tough decision, and gives us one of the best Cap scenes in recent memory, all before setting him up for his next round of adventures from Waid and an all-star roster of artists (before a new #1 this summer from Ta-Nehisi Coates and Leinil Yu).

 

SPOILERS BELOW!!!

So who had "Brian Michael Bendis moves to DC Comics" in the pool? Anybody?

Some random thoughts on the jawdropping news — at least for readers of superhero comics — that superstar Marvel Comics writer Brian Michael Bendis has signed an exclusive contract with DC Comics...

Wow. I mean WOW. This is huge.

I count myself as a huge Bendis fan. Daredevil was the first Marvel book I read, and as I followed Ed Brubaker and Michael Lark's run I also went back to read all the Miller and Smith, and then all the Bendis, and loved it. Then came his Avengers in the run-up to Secret Invasion, which is my favorite Bendis event, especially the carefully laid groundwork leading into it and the support stories in the Avengers books that ran alongside the main series. Dark Avengers and Siege were fantastic, especially with his multilayered Norman Osborn, but his Avengers titles began to get tired for me soon after The Heroic Age began. I soon gleaned on to his X-Men books (which I almost never read) and Guardians of the Galaxy. After the Marvel Universe died (but didn't really OK never mind hey look Miles is here everybody yay), his Iron Man work was brilliant, especially in the recent developments with Riri Williams and Victor Von Doom, and of course I love Jessica Jones (in all her Bendis incarnations) and Miles Morales, his two best creations. (Didn't like Civil War II, but oh well.)

In short, he represented a lot of Marvel was to me for the last 10-12 years, and I will miss his voice there (even if it has become less pervasive in the last couple years as his big franchises wound down).

Two obvious questions going forward are:

What happens to his Marvel books? I assume he'll stay on Iron Man until #600 (when Tony Stark will presumably return), after which the book will go to a heavy hitter like Jason Aaron (my first choice). The inevitable Ironheart book will hopefully go in a new, emerging writer, as should happen also with the Miles Morales book. Jessica Jones is too connected with Bendis (and Michael Gaydos), though, so I don't see anyone taking that over, unless she's wrapped into a joint book with Luke Cage. Defenders could go on with someone else, but it never received Legacy renumbering, so I expect it will be cancelled (especially now that the show is a memory) or re-oriented more towards the rotating line-up of the classic book (at which point it will be renumbered). I would also nominate Mr. Aaron for that. (Or anything. That fella's great.)

What will he do at DC? The best guess is Batman, whether one or both of the existing books (in which I would expect Tom King to jump to Marvel full-time) or a newly created book. Bendis has often expressed his desire to write the character (which was his sole DC credit to this point), and it makes sense given his focus on street-level heroes at Marvel, but personally I don't see Bendis' voice fitting the Dark Knight. (But I imagine this was the lure that got him to jump ship.)

The best fit in my opinion would be a restored Legion of Super-Heroes book: huge team (like the Avengers or X-Men), an entire world for him to play in and develop (like X-Men and Guardians of the Galaxy), and so much dialogue to write. (I love his style of dialogue, which would work much better with Legion or Titans than Batman.)

My fantasy pick? Restore Green Arrow to his old, ornery glory and give him to Bendis. Call it Old Man Ollie if you want. (I really want my Ollie back, and I think Bendis would be great. The return of three-alarm chili!)

In general, I do have reservations. I don't think it's particularly novel to say that Bendis is an intrinsically "Marvel" writer, much like writer and penciller Jack Kirby was before he jumped ship to do New Gods and more at DC, and more recently when penciller John Romita Jr. moved to DC to draw Superman. Frankly, I wonder how the patented Bendis voice will fit at DC. (But then again, Kirby didn't do too bad!) Given my poor opinion of the state of DC at the moment, I'm inclined to welcome any shake-up. But I also wonder if the addition of such an "outside" voice, as talented and inventive as he is, would get DC even further off-track at a time when they need to find their center (as promised by Geoff John's Rebirth one-shot). I would prefer that they engage Mr. Johns to devote himself to focusing the line (rather than messing with what should never be touched), and find a corner of the DCU for Bendis to play in where he can indulge himself fully (as they did with Kirby). Again, I think the Legion would be perfect for this, or maybe a new or reimagined parallel Earth. (Earth-B, of course.)

What do you think?