The Comics Professor

Thoughts about Avengers: Age of Ultron (Spoilers galore!)

Not a review, per se, but just some collected thoughts...

MAJOR SPOILERS BELOW—BE WARNED!

1. Loved it. It started like a Bond film with an intense action sequence, expertly shot in a similar fashion to the Battle of New York in the first film, with the focus flowing seamlessly from one character to the next, then calmed down as we saw the threat of Ultron building. Then it was off to the races again, only to be followed by setback, then regrouping for the final battle...

2. ...which was focused on SAVING ALL THE PEOPLE.

3. They SAVED ALL THE PEOPLE.

4. ALL OF THEM.

5. Ok, where was I... oh, right.

6. The focus on the six main Avengers seemed much more even this time, with Black Widow and Hawkeye getting more attention (especially with the surprise revelation that Hawkeye has been married to Velma all this time—no womanizing cad this Clint Barton).

7. I wish Black Widow hadn't been made the captured Avenger that had to be rescued, but that role was played by Hawkeye in the last film, and the others are too powerful. But still.

8. The humor was fantastic—I tried to remember all of my favorite lines but last track twenty minutes into the film. And they weren't all one-off gags: the running joke about Cap's early comment about "language" was fantastic. Even the scene from the preview with the Avengers trying to lift Mjolnir set up Vision's validation in the face of his new friends.

9. The new characters were integrated extremely well. The early antipathy of Quicksilver and the Scarlet Witch Pietro and Wanda towards Stark and the Avengers was easily motivated and then dispelled gradually. I was surprised not to see Pietro healing at the end of the film; Wanda was the more longstanding Avenger of the two in the comics, but nonetheless I liked their relationship in the film. And the Vision, wow...

10. The Vision was simply magnificent. One advantage of attending the first showing of the film was the number of diehard fans in the audience, all of whom applauded when Vision rose from his "cocoon." (Not to mention the gasps the first time Wakanda was mentioned.) Paul Bettany played Vision with the quiet dignity he deserved, and I can't wait to see him again.

11. I was a bit put off by Ultron's sense of humor, which is a distinct departure from the comics, but it grew on me, and made excellent use of James Spader's voice talents. And visually, he looked amazing.

12. Similar to Guardians of the Galaxy, teamwork was the focus of this film. The Avengers never really disassembled (even after Wanda's mindgames), so there was no need to rally at the end. I'm talking about the subtle, small types of cooperation, such as the one-two fight moves that Cap and Thor had obviously worked out in practice, and the way Clint and Natasha had each other's back throughout the film.

13. The cameos... well, I won't spoil those. There was Stan Lee, of course, but other MCU players made welcome appearances as well.

14. While the mid-credits bonus scene wasn't spectacular, it was gratifying to see the names of all the heroes—Avengers old, new, and "see ya next time"—in the main credits preceding it.

15. Tony, Tony, Tony... when will you learn? (What am I talking about? See my new post at the And Philosophy blog.) Also nice to see the continuing ideological differences between Tony and Cap referenced but not stressed (there's time for that in Captain America: Civil War).

16. I can't stress this enough: the last quarter of the movie was as much about getting all the people off of the floating city as it was about defeating Ultron. That's what the Avengers risked their necks to do. That's what Fury and Hill brought the helicarrier back for. That's what Clint almost died for—and Pietro did. It's sad that this kind of heroism is notable in a superhero movie, but in a Zack Snyder world, it is.

17. And did anyone fear for reality a little bit when Wanda lost it after Pietro died? I half-expected to see little Tetris pieces flying around.

18. And finally... Natasha and Bruce. I like it because it felt organic, and the scene in which she shares some of her Red Room background with him justified it even more. And of course, Bruce's "I can't be with you, I'm a monster" speech was well appreciated by this Thing.

P.S. It's Natasha Romanova. It's not too late to correct a grievous wrong. Respect.

To sum up, Avengers: Age of Ultron took advantage of the fact that it started with a team already assembled to jump head-first into the action and then spared no time in bringing the main threat to the stage. It was extremely well paced, with excitement, humor, and pathos throughout, and terrific performances by everyone involved. If this is Joss Whedon's farewell to the MCU, he couldn't have done a better job—this was a love letter to the Avengers, Marvel Comics, and to Marvel Zombies everywhere.

A problem with Marvel's AXIS: The difficulty of inverting complex characters.

Marvel's current crossover event, AXIS, involves various characters having their ethical orientation "inverted": heroes become villians and vice versa. A deceptively simple premise that has been used throughout the history of superhero comics—but rarely on this scale—it has potential for interesting stories (as well as culminating in "things will never be the same" changes to the status quo).

Ironically, however, it is precisely the aspect of Marvel's characters that makes them unique—their moral complexity and nuance—that confounds efforts to "flip" them from good to evil or from evil to good, resulting in strange adn confusing choices in storytelling and characterization.

There are very few characters in the Marvel Universe who are unambiguously good or evil: Captain America (that is, Steve Rogers) and the Red Skull, who are not among the inverted, are the two obvious exceptions. (There could be others too: for instance, I'd throw in Spider-Man, pure of heart but imperfect in execution, who interestingly was also not inverted.) The vast majority of the Marvel heroes and villains, however, are more complex, the heroes struggling against their more base natures and the villains striving to some degree to find redemption or achieve noble ends. But this complexity, a hallmark of Marvel Comics since the firm of Lee, Kirby, Ditko, and Associates dreamed them up in the 1960s, makes it diffiult to simply "flip" their moral characters. As a result, in AXIS we see a wildly inconsistent approach to inversions, especially regarding several heroes and one villain in particular.

Throughout this series and its tie-ins, I've been fascinated and frustrated by two characters in particular, Iron Man and Doctor Doom, whom I've long found to be very similar in their moral characters. Essentially utilitarian in their ethics, both pursue their personal visions of "the good" while believing that the ends justify the means. This leads Iron Man, for example, to take the controversial actions he took during Civil War in order to protect the superhero community, and leads Doom to try to take over the world, time and time again, because—as shown well in the miniseries Doomwar—he believes in his heart that only his rule can save humanity. Of course, both also have massive egos which serve to enable their extreme actions in pursuit of their singular visions, granting each the perception of entitlement, even the duty, to use their superior intelligence to save the world, damn the costs (as well as indulge personal vendettas and grudges along the way), and it is this arrogance which often foils their greatest ambitions (especially in Doom's case).

But after they are inverted during AXIS, these two similar characters are spun in completely opposite directions. Iron Man is portrayed as a mustache-twirling Snidely, teasing the citizens of San Francisco with an Extremis app that can make them "perfect" and then charging them $100 per day to maintain it. (This could be seen merely as leveraging an extremely attractive—and presumably legal—product for maximum revenue, but that sort of behavior often represents evil in popular fiction, and in any case is quite a departure from Tony's recent corporate altruism.) In other words, whatever restraints Tony Stark once felt on his pursuit of the good, for himself or for the world, have been removed. But this is not Tony "inverted"—this is Tony squared, Tony unleashed, his buffers removed, all second-guessing forgotten, resulting in even more of a caricature of himself than (according to some) in Civil War.

On the other hand, Doom has been all but neutered, now positively apoplectic about all the pain he caused his beloved citizens of Latveria, on whom he bestows democracy (by fiat, natch) before embarking on a program of making amends like a charter member of Villains Anonymous. The once proud and noble Doom simpers to Valeria Richards (daughter of Sue and Reed, currently living with Dad's greatest enemy in a delightful act of childhood defiance) about his need to right his past wrongs and also protect himself Latveria from an inverted Scarlet Witch who wants revenge for the events of Avengers Disassembled, House of M, and her wimple. (He had nothing to do with last one, but she could be understandably pissed about it all the same.) He even admits to Valeria—brace yourself, true believers—that Reed Richards has "always been right."

While Iron Man's "inversion" magnified his worse impulses, Doom's robbed him of his best. He either no longer seems to want to save humanity—a change that, in itself, hardly seems heroic—or he no longer feels he can do it and that the way he was doing it was incorrect—which is not an ethical change but an empirical one about methods. The thing that was evil about Doom was the steps he was willing to take to serve his goal of saving the world, but his nobility came from his sense of purpose and the moral lines he was not willing to cross (matters of honor such as truthfulness and keeping promises). Where he was once a fascinating man of extremes, now he's been reduced in both his ambition and his arrogance.

How interesting it would have been if, instead, Doom had been inverted into a traditional one-dimensional villain instead, using his brilliance to rob banks. Then, at least, the reader would have been led to ponder the true complexity of Doom's character and wonder if he was really a villain to begin with, and in what ways he was different from a hero like Iron Man. (At least they didn't make him an angry blogger.)

It seems that what the inversions did was not to flip the overall ethical orientation of the affected heroes—except in the most simplistic way possible, turning nuanced moral characters into one-dimensional caricatures—but merely flip the degree to which they perceived limits on their activity: for example, Iron Man sees fewer limits and Doom sees more. Apart from Tony and Vic, the Scarlet Witch indulges her desire for revenge against Doom; the all-new Captain America (Sam Wilson) still fights crime, but more like the Punisher than he did as the Falcon; and the X-Men become very pro-active against humanity (making Cyclops look like Gandhi). None of them has become a villain per se, but simply less traditionally heroic by virtue of crossing lines that once they refused to cross.

The main idea of AXIS is to flip heroes and villains along the "axis" of good and evil. But given the complexity granted to most of the Marvel characters by their creators, and maintained over the years out of dedication to that vision, there is no simple axis to be found. Most Marvel characters express their heroism or villainy in nuanced and multifaceted ways, so there are many axes along with they can be inverted. For example, they can be flipped in one aspect of them (such as what remained of Tony's restraints on his pursuit of goals), flipped along more than one of them (such as Doom's loss of ambition and arrogance), or reduced to a simple black-and-white caricature (such as the Scarlet Witch of Vengeance).

Of course, the "fuzzy" method of inversion in AXIS may have been part of the creators' plan—it did result from a magical spell, after all, and magic is known for its unpredictability. But I think some great story possibilities were missed by not considering what truly makes the various Marvel characters heroes or villains—or both.

Thoughts on the new Captain America and the direction of Marvel Comics

If I knew the official announcement of Sam Wilson (the Falcon) picking up the mantle from an aged Steve Rogers was coming so soon, I would have waited to write my post on the new Thor, since many of the points I have to make are the same. But here I'll focus on the aspects unique to Cap.

1. Ever since this was hinted several weeks back, I've thought about it in terms of two issues: who becomes the new Cap, and why are they replacing Steve Rogers at all. The first is a no-brainer, and personally I'm thrilled to see Sam as the next person to wield the shield. I think this a win all around: it flows naturally from the story Rick Remender has been telling, and Sam is the natural successor to Steve (given that Bucky already had a shot), having been his crime-fighting partner and close confidante for years. Furthermore, it helps to diversify the Marvel line in the same way that the female Thor does, which I only hope will be justified and motivated in-story as well as Sam's ascension is. (The same issues with legacy that I expressed in my Thor post hold, even though there have been almost as many different Caps as Thor has had helmets.)

2. The bigger issue for me is: why is Steve Rogers being replaced again so soon after he came back from "the dead" several years ago? (It seems like yesterday, but possibly that's because I have no life.) There are a number of possible reasons.

First, it may have been motivated for the express purpose of putting Sam in the red-white-and-blues. Nothing wrong with that, though it does seem to make Steve Rogers disposable and imply that Sam Wilson can't be made a more prominent fixture in the Marvel Universe as the Falcon—which, after all, is an original, nonderivative superhero identity without "Black" in the name, and something I think should be celebrated.

Second, it may be part of a larger character arc for Steve Rogers—in much the same way that Rhodey first served as Iron Man during Tony Stark's fall and rise from the depths of alcoholism, only to have Tony reclaim the armor when he was all better—but this would diminish Sam's stature as a "true" successor as Captain America and make him little more than a placeholder. He would get his moment in the sun, true, but he deserves better.

Third, it may simply be a "hail mary" on the part of the creators. I've found Remender's run to be less than inspiring after an impressive start, and this may have been the best Cap story they could come up with. If I remember correctly, Cap has been "depowered" twice since he was reborn, and that well has run dry—which leads me to think this was motivated by one or both of the reasons above (or simply a desire to mix things up, as I'll discuss below).

3. Let's abstract away from the new Cap and talk about Marvel in general. In my post on the new Thor I expressed my suspicions that all of these abrupt changes in major characters were leading to a Marvel reboot down the road. Maybe it's not, and many if not all of these changes will be reversed in a year or so. Regardless of how long these changes stay in place, however, and no matter how much I support each of these changes individually and look forward to the stories that can be told with them, taken together they reek of the same desperation that led DC to reboot their universe three years ago: short term shock to goose sales. As Brevoort says in the interview announcing the New Cap, “Change is one of the watchwords of the Marvel Universe, so there are even more startling surprises to come!” This sounds to me like "change for the sake of change," which I regard as a shortsighted alternative to solid, innovative storytelling rooted in the rich history of beloved characters.

But I'm not running Marvel Comics, and I'm no expert on what sells comics to the majority of current fans (or the elusive "new fans" they hope to elicit). Maybe current readers want rapid change that keeps them on the toes. Maybe they don't have the same appreciation of decades of continuity and character development that we old fogeys have. DC certainly seems to have banked on that, and even though their editorial and PR problems of late are well documented, few of them seem to deal directly with lost continuity. As long as Marvel avoids a total reboot, they will retain that history that many fans love, and will also be adopting a concept of legacy similar to what DC had before the New 52 (as I discussed in the last post). This may be inconsistent with the appreciation many longtime fans have for the characters, but may appeal more to new ones. (I don't know.)

Again, I sincerely hope I'm wrong. After all, look at the Superior Spider-Man, which exceeded almost everyone's expectations in terms of storytelling, after which (to me, at least) Peter Parker as Spider-Man once again seems almost blasé. Fantastic stories were told of Bucky Barnes when he served as Captain America, and I hope the stories of Sam Wilson as Captain America (and the new Thor) will be just as good. At the end of the day, there are two things that matter to me: story and character. If good stories are told that respect the characters and develop them organically, I'll be the happiest fan knocking down the door of my local comics shop every Wednesday morning. But with Marvel right now (or "Right NOW!"), it just seems like too much all at once, and that worries me.

Thoughts on the new Thor: Legacy, characterization, and a possible reboot

Recently it was announced—on "The View," of all places—that the next person found worthy to wield the power of Thor in the Marvel Universe would be a woman, after the current Thor is judged unworthy. (See here for the best write-up I've found, including an interview with writer Jason Aaron and EIC Axel Alonso.) Predictably, the comics internet went crazy, with some fans excited and supportive of the move and others very upset, many of them angry that "their Thor" could possibly be a woman.

After following the news and conversation all that day, I want to offer a few random thoughts.

1. It's a bold move on the part of Marvel Comics and I think it's a positive one. Those of us in comics fandom who want a more diverse range of characters would of course prefer that new, nonderivative female characters would be created and promoted, but we also realize the reality of the marketplace and how difficult that is. Personally, I would love to see Sif or Valkyrie put forward more—and to Marvel's credit they have tried—but it may be the case that the best way to diversify the line is substitute women and other minorities for established characters (as they did so well with Miles Morales) and hope that over time they establish themselves as beloved and independent iterations. (From what I've seen, few consider Miles to be a replacement but a fascinating character in his own right.)

Furthermore, there is a tradition of the current Thor losing his "worthiness" and the mantle being passed to another character, such as Beta Ray Bill (a horse-faced character for people like me to identify with), and we all know that Thor himself became a frog for a spell (after which an independent Frog-Thor was created, because you demanded it!). A female Thor was a natural next step in the evolution of the Thor mythos (just like I believe Sam Wilson-as-Cap is), and it allows the current Thor to go through a redemption storyline. I have no doubt the current Thor will come back, but as long as good stories are told in the meantime, I'm all for it. (And this is Jason Aaron, one of my favorite writers in the medium right now, so I have no doubt the stories will be fantastic.)

2. I think another reason this change is being met with skepticism—aside from issues with the character's gender—is that Marvel does not have an established traditon of legacy in the same way that DC does (or did before the New 52). There have been a number of Flashes, Green Lanterns (even just counting the Sector 2814 ones), Robins, and even Batmen. In particular, Wally West and Kyle Rayner served as "the" Flash and Green Lantern, respectively, for over a decade after their predecessors "went away," and a large contingent of fans embraced them, largely because their characters were more fleshed out than Barry Allen and Hal Jordan were at the time. While they were beloved, Barry and Hal's original adventures were mostly about using their powers to fight bad guys, not explore their deepest character traits, which made them relatively easy to replace with new people that, given the times in which they were introduced, were explored in more depth.

But when the Marvel heroes were created (or defrosted) in the 1960s, they were instilled from the get-go with well-defined character traits that served to make their superhero identites indistinguishable from their "real" identities. So even though there have been others to use the names, many fans don't see them as the authentic versions. With all due respect to Bucky and Rhodey, Steve Rogers is Captain America and Tony Stark is Iron Man because Steve and Tony's personalities are as much a part of the identities of Cap and Shellhead as are the shield and the armor. (Even in DC, the trinity of Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman have become inseparably tied to Clark/Kal, Bruce, and Diana, but few others have.) And Thor takes this even further because Thor is his given name—there is no difference between the hero Thor and the "civilian" Thor (now that Don Blake has been rendered irrelevant). (Apparently the current Thor will go by a different name after he is "deposed," but even that highlights how odd this transfer of title is.)

This doesn't mean that "mantles" can't be passed on in the Marvel Universe, but merely that replacing Thor or Cap has more impact—and receives more resistance aside from issues of gender and race—than it would in DC, where multiple generations of heroes was once a grand tradition.

3. Who will be the new Thor—and who should it be? The safe bet is that it will be Angela, newly revealed to be Thor and Loki's sister. Less likely, it could be Valkyrie, another natural choice for her longlasting popularity and close ties to Asgardian lore, or Jane Foster, who recently moved to Asgard as an emissary from Midgard (Earth) and is suffering from cancer (which could be cured with the Odinforce, even though she doesn't want this). My ideal choice would be Sif, who seems to be the natural successor to the current Thor just as Sam Wilson is the natural successor to Steve Rogers (after Bucky had his shot). (As for hair color, I have it on good authority that people can change their hair color, especially if they undergo a transformation to become the Norse God of Thunder.)

4. Finally and most speculatively, I can't help but think that so many major changes at once—new Thor, new Cap, newly dead Wolverine, possible cancellation of the Fantastic Four—are increasing the odds that there is some sort of reboot coming at Marvel after this "Time Runs Out" business coming in the Avengers titles. I may be wrong, and I really hope I am, but it seems that the powers-that-be at Marvel are playing with their favorite toys one last time, taking bold chances with them, before they get all new ones. They've done radical things before—killing Cap, replacing Peter Parker, taking Dazzler seriously—but now they're doing a lot of it all at once, and frankly it worries me. Again, I hope I'm wrong, because I love the Marvel Universe and its rich history that, for the most part, the creators there respect. 

Captain America and the Neglected Role of Moral Judgment

Imagine you’re a leader in your community, fighting on behalf of a principle for which you are personally willing to sacrifice anything. Your own well-being is of no concern to you as long as your actions are protecting and promoting the ideal in which you believe so strongly. One day, however, you notice that your actions are hurting those around you, both those who are similarly invested in your cause as well as others who are not involved—including, perhaps, many whom you’re trying to help. You may even be winning the fight, until you notice that its costs, especially those borne by others, are simply getting too high to bear. Do you fight on, regardless of the cost, or do you stop, cutting the losses but losing the larger fight?

This sounds like the type of hypothetical situation that philosophy professors give to their students to work through. But it’s not hypothetical to people around the world who fight for social justice, gladly sacrificing their own livelihoods for their cause, while perhaps also inflicting collateral damage on others. It’s also a situation that the superhero Captain America faced in the Marvel Comics storyline “Civil War” in which he defended the freedoms of his fellow heroes against a law that would compel them to reveal their secret identities to the government and register as agents of the state.

When we think of complex and nuanced moral decision-making, comic book superheroes probably don’t immediately spring to mind. If they did, most people would choose the psychologically complex Batman rather than the flag-waving Captain America. “Cap” is often criticized, by fans in the real world as well as his fellow heroes in the Marvel Universe, as embodying old-fashioned, “black-and-white” ethical thinking that is anachronistic in our modern, morally ambiguous world. What Cap actually shows, however, is how values are of no use in realistic moral dilemmas without the essential faculty of judgment.

Each of the three major schools of moral philosophy needs the help of judgment to result in specific actions. Unique among them, virtue ethics highlights the importance of nuanced and contextual decision-making, such as in Aristotle’s emphasis on practical judgment (phronesis). Virtue ethicists recommend the cultivation of character traits such as honesty that promote moral action but stop short of formulating rules to guide it, leaving it to judgment to determine how to balance virtues in any given ethical dilemma.

Judgment is essential to the other two schools of ethics as well, although this is often minimized in favor of their rule-focused aspects. Utilitarianism seems straightforward once you get to the final step, adding up the effect of individual utilities and comparing this sum to alternatives. But the process of determining those utilities, as well as deciding whose utilities to include and which contingencies you want to account for, require judgment—and the result can have an enormous impact on whether the utilitarian calculation results in a “yea” or “nay.”

Deontology, which emphasizes duties and principles, seems more clear-cut, avoiding the messy empirical details of moral dilemmas. But it has no obvious way to deal with conflicts between two duties or principles, nor to decide when the costs of standing by principle become too great. Even Immanuel Kant, a strict deontologist, stressed the necessity of judgment, which he considered “a peculiar talent which can be practiced only, and cannot be taught” (Critique of Pure Reason, A133/B172). As Onora O’Neill wrote about Kant, “Discussions of judgment . . . are ubiquitous in Kant’s writings. He never assumes agents can move from principles of duty, or from other principles of action, to se­lecting a highly specific act in particular circumstances without any process of judg­ment. He is as firm as any devotee of Aristotelian phronesis in maintaining that prin­ciples of action are not algorithms and do not entail their own applications” (“Kant: Rationality as Practical Reason,” in The Oxford Handbook of Rationality, edited by Alfred R. Mele and Piers Rawling, p. 104).

While Captain America’s moral character is based on virtues and duties—giving the impression of simplistic, “right and wrong” thinking—he shows the importance of moral judgment in balancing these moral factors before making a decision. Take the example from the Marvel “Civil War” that led off this essay: at the end of the story (Civil War #7, January 2007), Captain America and his allies were winning the climactic battle against Iron Man and other heroes defending superhero registration. As Captain America was about to deliver the final blow against his fellow Avenger, a group of ordinary people pulled Cap away and showed him how the battle had destroyed much of Manhattan. After realizing how much the battle was costing the residents of New York, he signaled to his allies to stop fighting and surrendered. Cap didn’t abandon his principle of freedom; he simply decided it was no longer worth the cost it was imposing on others. His values didn’t change—but his judgment did.

Simple rules such as “stand by your principles” or “minimize harm” are no good in situations like this. Captain America had to keep both of these rules in mind and balance them using his judgment. As Kant emphasized, there is no way to explain judgment as a rule or algorithm; rather it is what a person turns to when rules or algorithms fail to solve a moral problem. In this way judgment resembles Ronald Dworkin’s theory of judicial decision-making, in which a judge balances the various principles relevant to a “hard case” according to the principles and ideals he or she believes best explain the broader legal system. Similarly, in a moral dilemma a person must balance his or her various principles and beliefs to arrive at a decision that maintains the integrity of his or her moral character.

Captain America’s core principles and virtues may be “black and white,” but the way that he balances them is complex, nuanced, and sensitive to context. In the dramatic, life-threatening situations he faces in his comic books and movies, Cap demonstrates how the basic ideas of ethics serve merely as guidelines that by themselves cannot determine the best or right action on their own. As the narration to Captain America, vol. 1, #184 (April 1975) read, "he thinks in principle... tempered on the forge of understanding, and honed to the edge of reality." Moral philosophy can help identify the critical elements of a problem, but each person’s judgment is crucial to finding what Dworkin called (in the context of jurisprudence) the “right answer,” the one that is consistent with his or her moral character. By doing so, we can craft our own character much like Cap’s writers craft his—with or without the red, white, and blue costume.

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For more on Cap and philosophy, pick up The Virtues of Captain America: Modern-Day Lessons on Character from a World War II Superhero, available now.

Why is Loki: Agent of Asgard #1 such a great comic? Here are some reasons...

If Al Ewing and Lee Garbett's Loki: Agent of Asgard #1 doesn't end up being the best single issue of the year, then we've got a great year ahead of us. Why did I love this book so much? How much time do you have?

(Look Ma, I'm writin' a listicle! *sobs*)

1. It's a fantastically constructed done-in-one that tightly packs in everything you could want in a comic book. (This could be a listicle of its own—nested listicles, much structure, wow...)

Let's start with one great attention-getting splash page for an opener and another shocking one to close, with an entire adventure in between—an adventure that stands perfectly well on its own while setting up a larger story to come.

Did I mention that it also recaps Loki's essential history with the Avengers—and features the Avengers too? Yes, all in one comic, I kid you not. If they're not careful, they might attract the mythical New Reader with this book—and actually keep him and her. Wait... do you think that was their plan all along? That's just devious enough to be worthy of Loki himself.

2. Just when you thought Kieron Gillen was the master of Loki-speak, Al Ewing threatens to take that horned crown from him. Under Ewing's pen Loki is just as snappy and clever as we've come to know him, and when interacting with the Avengers you can't help but hear his lines in Tom Hiddleston's voice. (Hey Google, I said Tom Hiddleston! TOM HIDDLESTON! That's three times! Now where's my check?)

3. Lee Garbett brings his clear lines and layouts to a book with a distinctly darker feel than the Stephanie Brown Batgirl series on which he shone so brightly—do I ever miss that book—and makes it his own while at the same time very different from adventures of the wide-eyed Steph and battle-wisened Babs. His characterization is magnificent, not just on Loki but on the other characters as well, especially Thor and... no, I can't give it away. Together wih colorist Nolan Woodard, Garbett makes his book a joy to look at as well as to read. (Hats off to Jamie McKelvie for the new Loki design.)

4. What's that? Did I say "joy"? In a modern comic book?

Verily! This book was fun to read, and will surely be fun on numerous re-readings. I laughed outloud through the book, not just at Loki's dialogue and inner monologue but also at his devious machinations—all the twists you expect from Gillen's writing of him against the background of a simpler and more new-reader-friendly premise.

5. And this passage, from Loki's mind:

Magic is taking a thought and making it real. Taking a lie and making it the truth. Telling a story to the universe so utterly, cosmically perfect that for a single, shining moment... the world believes a man can fly.

Best explanation of magic in comics I've ever seen (when one is given at all)—and also keeping a nice link to Gillen's emphasis on stories through Journey into Mystery and Young Avengers. There's also a distinct Douglas Adams quality to it: I immediately thought of his line from The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy about flying being jumping and forgetting to fall. And the subtle Superman reference is just one of the pop culture references strewn through the book—see if you tell what he's singing in the shower—another legacy continued from Gillen's development of the character.

Loki: Agent of Asgard #1 is a success on many levels. Ewing and Garbett have successfully taken over Loki from GIllen's capable hands and put him in a new context that will be familiar to longtime fans and new wanderers from the land of cinema alike. And did I mention it's fun? In the end, that may be the best thing about the new Loki title—I expect lots of pathos, betrayal, and misunderstandings throughout this run, but I hope it never stops being fun.

Introduction to The Virtues of Captain America available on Google Books

I was surprised to see The Virtues of Captain America up on Google Books several weeks before it's released, but on the bright side, the preview does contain the introduction, which I encourage anybody interested in this book to read. (And don't forget the first chapter is available at Wiley Blackwell's site for the book.)

I hope to post some things in the near future related to the book, including scenes and lines from the comics I had to leave out, images related to ones I did put in the book, and comics I didn't read before the book was finished (either because they came out too recently or just because I missed them).

New book: The Virtues of Captain America: Modern-Day Lessons on Character from a World War II Superhero

Well, it's time to let the Cap out of the bag... I'm very pleased to announce my next book, The Virtues of Captain America: Modern-Day Lessons on Character from a World War II Superhero, which will be published by Wiley-Blackwell next March ahead of the film sequel Captain America 2: The Winter Soldier. (If you're so inclined, you can pre-order it now from Amazon.)

Unlike the books I edited or co-edited for the Blackwell Philosophy and Popular Culture series (such as Batman and Philosophy), this one is written solely by me—for better or for worse! Also, rather than presenting a survey of philosophical ideas presented through the lens of its topic, The Virtues of Captain America has a specific focus: showing how the "old-fashioned" ethical code of Steve Rogers is just as essential today as it was in the past, not only as a role model for individual character but also as a way out of America's current political divisiveness.

I had several goals in mind as I wrote this book:

• Similar to the approach of the Blackwell Philosophy and Popular Culture series, in this book I introduce basic concepts of moral philosophy, especially virtue ethics, using examples drawn from decades of Captain America stories. In particular, I wanted to address the complexity of moral decision-making, for which simple rules, formulas, and virtues can be a guide but never the final answer. For this reason, judgment is a constant theme in the book (and takes up an entire chapter in itself).

• I wanted to address the perception that Captain America's ethical code is anachronistic, simplistic, and "black and white." As I argue throughout the book, none of these could be farther from the truth. The ideals that ground Cap's ethics are timeless, and while his core principles may be simple, the process of using judgment to balance them to make moral decisions in specific circumstances is anything but black-and-white, as Cap shows time and time again in the comics.

• More ambitiously, I wanted to show that Captain America's relationship to his country—in particular, the way he emphasizes principle over politics—can help Americans in the real world to start to heal our radical political divisions. If we focus, as Cap does, on the core ideals of justice, equality, and liberty that Americans share, we can better put into context our differences of opinion regarding how best to put these ideals into practice.

• And, most personally, I wanted to share my love of this classic superhero character through his decades of stories in comics such as Captain America, Avengers, and the countless other titles in which he's appeared over the years (hundreds of which are cited in the book). In the process, I also pay tribute to the dozens of talented creators who have crafted his stories, starting with Joe Simon, Jack Kirby, and Stan Lee, and continung with legends such as Jim Sternako, J.M. DeMatteis, Mark Waid, Ed Brubaker, and Paul Jenkins (just to name a few).

I'm sure to bombard you with more details and sneak peeks as the book approaches publication, but for the time being, you might like the following articles and blog posts I've written about Cap in the past (many of which laid the groundwork for the book):

• My Captain America op-ed from 2011, published in both The San Diego Union-Tribune and The Washington Times (PDF of print version), which serves well as an abstract of the book. (In fact, it was a large part of the proposal for it.)
• "Can Captain America Heal a Divided Nation?", at The Good Men Project (as well as here), which uses a storyline from the Ultimate Marvel Universe (not covered in my book) to address the issue of principle versus politics.
• "Are Captain America's Ethics Too Old-Fashioned for the 21st Century?", a blog post at Psychology Today that addresses the anachronist and "black-and-white" issues about Cap's moral code.
• "Can Captain America Show Us How to Be More Cosmopolitan?", a more recent Psychology Today blog post addressing Cap's worldly brand of patriotism.
• Another piece from The Good Men Project extolling several of Cap's virtues, along with my GMP review of the first Cap movie.
• A piece from this very blog discussing Cap's sense of authority in the context of Stoic thought. (You can also click on Captain America at the right to see more posts on him, not all of which are worth listing here.)

Finally, I discussed Captain America, directly or indirectly, in a number of chapters in the Blackwell Philosophy and Popular Culture series:

• "Captain America and the Virtue of Modesty," in Superheroes: The Best of Philosophy and Pop Culture, edited by William Irwin, a free e-book collecting chapters from superhero-themed books in the series along with exclusive chapters on Cap and Thor.
• "Superhuman Ethics Class with the Avengers Prime," a survey of the three main schools of ethics using Thor, Iron Man, and Cap, from my edited volume The Avengers and Philosophy: Earth's Mightiest Thinkers. (Note that here, Cap is cast as the deontologist while Thor is the virtuous one; in The Virtues of Captain America I explain why virtue ethics and deontology both help to characterize Cap's ethics.)
• "Did Iron Man Kill Captain America?", an essay addressing Tony Stark's role in the Marvel "Civil War," particularly in contrast to Cap (another recurring theme in my new book), from my edited volume Iron Man and Philosophy: Facing the Stark Reality.
• "'My Name is Peter Parker': Unmasking the Right and the Good," in which I cast Peter Parker as the prize in Iron Man and Cap's moral tug-of-war during the Civil War, from J.J. Sanford's edited volume Spider-Man and Philosophy: The Web of Inquiry. (I revisit this theme in this blog post.)

Captain America #10: A new status quo (and a goodbye)

Today's Captain America #10 concludes the Dimension Z storyline that launched the Marvel NOW! volume of Cap's title (volume 7 for those of you playing along at home). It points to a revised status quo for the Sentinel of Liberty--and one of his supporting characters--as he escapes Zola's dimension in which he has spent over a decade, during which less than an hour passed in his own world. Also, he spent this time raising a young boy, Ian, as his son, only to lose him when he was shot by Sharon Carter when she arrived to rescue Cap. 

SPOILERS BELOW THE JUMP

 

A heartwarming scene of acceptance in FF #6

Just a quick post to share a page from Matt Fraction and Joe Quinones' FF #6, featuring the Moloids (Mik, Korr, Turg, and Tong), which seems not to gotten the widespread attention it deserves:

Both in this volume of FF as well as Hickman's that came before, the Moloids are usually adorable comic relief, often seen worshiping the Thing ("The Ben") or She-Hulk ("The Jen"). But on this page, their quirkiness is combined with a simple but touching message of acceptance for one of their own who is realizing who she really is. Kudos to all involved.