How much would you pay to meet Harley Quinn?
Here’s an argument for keeping comics cheap, accessible and – gasp! – even disposable.
It starts with The Batman Adventures, a comic that represents everything I love about the medium.
The series, which began in late 1992, was spun off from the popular animated show. It quickly became a gem in its own right.
There was a classical economy to the book – only what was required to tell the story.
Every issue employed a classic three-act structure. Literally, each 7-8-page section had its own subtitle (‘ACT 2: DAYS OF WINE AND RIDDLES!’).
The art was timeless. The layouts were clear. The dialogue was punchy.
There were no shock revelations, and there were few deaths.
Continuity was employed extremely sparingly. Even now, any reader of any age could pick up an issue and enjoy it without recourse to a Wikipedia deep dive.
It was a book that ran totally against the grain of the worst trends of ‘90s comics. And all for 70p.
The bank-busting debut of Harley Quinn
Issue 12 of The Batman Adventures represents everything I detest about comics.
I’m not talking about the content. I couldn’t tell you about the content because I’ve yet to read it. I don’t own it.
For a young UK-based reader without a local comic shop, collecting in the early 1990s was a challenge. I bought (or was gifted) comics on a sporadic basis.
Over the years I filled the gaps in my collection until I now own about 30 issues of The Batman Adventures.
But if I want to own issue 12 then I’ll have to stump up several hundred pounds, or get very lucky.
You see, issue 12 is the first appearance of Harley Quinn in print – then an exciting new addition to the Joker’s storied entourage, making her transition from the screen to the page.
The issue is therefore a ‘collector’s item.’ I’ve seen eBay listings for an NM/VF copy priced at £1,200.
Now, I’m not about to argue with fundamental market dynamics. Of course, I understand the reasons why a VF condition copy of Action Comics issue 1 is so highly valued.
I’m just arguing about the spirit of the thing.
Yes, it galls me that speculation prices the casual comic reader out of the market for a back issue.
But my beef is more fundamental than that. It’s the fact that an object of unpretentious fun – something wholesome to entertain a child (or the child within) – has been shuttled off into a dull, rarefied place.
In its new context, the over-valued comic becomes an object to be hoarded and ‘preserved.’ And always by an adult.
It’s a joyless purpose that the comic book was never intended to fulfil. Now it’s the toy that never gets unboxed, sealed inside a display cabinet.
Issue 12 of The Batman Adventures wasn’t produced to capitalise on the speculator market. It isn’t tainted by that original sin, unlike say a copy of X-Men issue 1 (‘the Nintendo Wii of comics’), or Superman issue 75.
Paid for in pocket money
Maybe Harley’s first appearance doesn’t help my point. Perhaps it’s an extreme example, given how popular the Joker’s girlfriend has become.
But take her second appearance in The Batman Adventures: issue 28. That’s still sold for approximately 3-4 times the price of a normal issue and even that (comparatively) affordable price triggers me.
You see I’m all for collecting comics, I just believe they should be paid for in pocket money.
(Okay, maybe not 100 Bullets or Sex Criminals, but you get the gist.)
The virtue of a single floppy issue should be that it should be cheap and accessible. And yes, even disposable.
Some four years ago, I heard cartoonist and comics aficionado Scott Kurtz discussing the failure of the direct market to convert the success of Marvel Cinematic Universe into robust sales.
Kurtz outlined his own journey as a comic lover, from the spinner racks of a bookstore (where no one cared how much he browsed) to the local comic shop (where back issues were sealed out of reach, and you were constantly reminded that the place wasn’t a library).
His education gradually revealed the disheartening attitude that had been inculcated in American consumers. Here’s what he learned about comics:
They were placed inside of polybags. They were not to be touched. They were not to be enjoyed. They certainly were not to be rolled up and put in the back pocket.
That last line has stuck with me.
Anything but mint condition
Even to my sympathetic ears, the first time I heard those words, they sounded like heresy! What!? Now listen here, sir – you can’t treat a comic that way!
It made me realise how well I, too, had been indoctrinated.
I reflected on my most-loved comics. My Raiders of the Lost Ark adaptation with the detached cover. My scuffed and dogeared run of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Adventures. My copy of Showcase ‘95 issue 1 with a missing corner.
I never look at these beloved comics and think “I wish this issue was in better shape.” After all, they’re still readable.
I once heard it said that you can tell the most popular recipe pages in a cookbook by checking which pages are the most stained with food. It dawned on me that something similar holds true for comics.
Recently, I ordered a copy of Out from Boneville. As a comics reader, my lack of familiarity with Jeff Smith’s epic story felt more shameful by the year.
The book, when it arrived, was sufficiently damaged that I was offered an on-the-spot refund. I was left to do as I pleased with my slightly shabby edition.
And what I did was read and enjoy it, because it’s great. I rapidly lost interest in reordering a copy in better condition.
If anything, the imperfections made me more relaxed about slinging the book in the same bag as my daughter’s swimming kit, so I could read it during her lessons.
Collecting comics vs conserving comics
I’d happily own a copy of issue 12 of Batman Adventures in poor condition, to complete my collection. Water damaged, loosely stapled – that would be fine. But even those in poor condition seem to cost several hundred pounds.
Of course, issue 12 is collected in a couple of affordable trades. Of course, there’s the option of Comixology, or a pirated PDF.
I can read it whenever I want. I just can’t enjoy it as a floppy, along with the rest of the run.
So I’m not against collecting comics. But to me, collecting comics should never mean paying out the cost of a holiday abroad in order to own a single issue. Nor should it entail preserving that same issue in perfect resale condition, for no reason other than, well, to have it.
The Batman Adventures is everything a comic book should be. It’s a shame that speculation can still take some of the fun out of it.
***
Footnotes on The Batman Adventures
The Batman Adventures ran from 1992 to 1995.
Those 36 issues feature sterling contributions from a number of creatives, but the bulk of the issues were built around a core team: writer Kelly Puckett, penciller Mike Parobeck and inker Rick Burchett.
(In my young mind, the surnames Puckett-Parobeck-Burchett listed on each cover soon became the equivalent of a Lennon-McCartney credit on a 7in single.)
The final issue of The Batman Adventures was immediately followed by a new series, The Batman & Robin Adventures, reflecting the rebranding of the animated show from which it was adapted. This book was a different beast in terms of staff and structure, and didn’t quite match the magic of the original series.
The Batman Adventures stands as the main body of work left by artist Mike Parobeck.
His death in July 1996 at the age of 34 was a shocking loss for comics. There are more details in this moving anniversary profile from CBR.
All artwork depicted under Fair Use allowance, with reference to section 107 of the Copyright Act in 1976. No copyright infringement intended.
