Broken Frontier

There are all manner of final issues in the wonderful world of comics. There are the final issues of a storyline, or of a particular creators run. Then there are the final issues of a comic itself, which generally go one of two possible ways:

(a) The creators have decided to end the series, and the story concludes as intended; or

(b) The Powers-That-Be have decided to end the series, and the story concludes if at all in as best a manner that the creators can manage given what little warning they may have had.

Whichever type of final issue a comic may receive, there’s always something depressing about them for me. It’s the finality of it, I think, coupled with my dislike for change in things I’ve grown to appreciate. Final issues, no matter how good they are, always have a feeling of something being taken away from you by whoever- the writer, the publisher, the other fans who didn’t realize that Green Lantern: Mosaic was the best Green Lantern title on the stands at the time, Goddammit, that you’ll miss as soon as you reach the final page.

That’s probably a testament to the creators, I guess. If they weren’t doing something right although, in the case of books cancelled due to low sales, that has to be tempered with the knowledge that the majority of other people may disagree with your personal definition of right then you wouldn’t really feel anything about the end, except for perhaps relief that you’ll be able to save that amount of money per month for other things. I think my favorite approach to books that have been closed down thanks to a lack of retailer dollars is that of two of my favorite cancelled series, the aforementioned Mosaic and Hourman. Both of those books took their last few issues to close out the long-running storylines, and tempered the main narratives with a kind of knowing melancholy that the characters themselves felt. There was a feeling of loss in both series final issues, with characters showing regret that things hadn’t turned out as well as had they’d hoped. John Stewart, the main character and narrator of Mosaic, even says to the reader at one point, Oh, the stories I could tell you if you could only stay!

But, of course, staying isn’t always an option.

Not all creators take cancellation so well. In protest of the somewhat political cancellation of Power Man and Iron Fist, another of my favorite series, writer Christopher Priest (or Jim Owsley, as he was still known back then) and editor Denny O’Neil killed off one of the dysfunctional dynamic duo, and had the other framed for his murder. The somewhat shocking, brutal, death of Iron Fist came out of the blue, and was meant to invoke the feelings of rage, loss and helplessness that the creators felt when they were told that their book was being ended so that there would be room on the production schedule for Marvel’s ill-fated New Universe line, and to that end, it works well. Subplots that had been building for months weren’t brought to any kind of conclusion, and the book ends not on a cliffhanger (Luke Cage on the run, wrongly accused of Iron Fists murder) as much as a resigned tone that suggested that, really, some people just get screwed over by fate.

My favorite final issues are both Grant Morrison’s, although neither one is really a final final issue (both books continued on after Morrison left the book, but were never as good again). Like the conclusions to Hourman and Mosaic, the final issues of Morrison’s first two long-running US series were filled with a kind of knowing sadness, but also something resembling a completely romantic optimism. Both Animal Man and Doom Patrol end in essentially the same way- the comic character crosses over into a harsh real world but the two series use that device to tell different stories. Buddy Baker, the eponymous Animal Man, meets Morrison himself, who explains why he’s written the story that he’d written, and why he made all those things happen to Buddy. Buddy, in response, pleads with him to undo everything and make everything go back to the way it used to be. It’s a beautiful, heartbreaking, story about dreams and the responsibilities not only of a creator to care for his creations, but also of kindness and the nature of entertainment in general. Doom Patrol, on the other hand, strands Morrison’s central creation from the team in the middle of a world that doesn’t care about her, or about anything other than normality, whatever that is. Again, we see the world of imagination as a lifeline, but this time it’s something that the real world sees necessary to destroy, in order to make everyone fit in. But even as the central character is forced into becoming someone she never should be, there’s hope and the suggestion of the power of belief in whatever you need to believe in. It’s an odd, but entirely fitting, message to leave the reader with, I think.

(Morrison is, in general, a great writer for final issues. Invisibles ends twice; the second-to-last issue is the final part of the story in many ways, with the final issue proper providing an epilogue that redefines what you’ve just read and gives you the ending you’ve been waiting for all along, even if you didn’t know it. JLA, as well, finishes with all the toys put back as they were when he started, but more polished and exciting, and Superman teasing Batman - and the reader - as they prepare for their latest mission to save the world, Come on. We’re the Justice League. You know you love it.)

As is probably obvious by now, this is the last Grim Tidings column. I’ve got other things that need my attention right now, not least of which the OGN I’m drawing for Variance Press, Zombie Zombie Zombie (Due out at the end of the year, written by Jim Death Takes A Holiday Massey. I’m allowed a plug or two in my last column, right?), so certain other things have to fall by the side for the time being, this being one of them. Its been a fun, long, slightly surreal trip daddio, and one for which I have lots of people to thank: Fred for making Broken Frontier in the first place, Chris Hunter and Shawn Hoke who edited columns despite my occasional mangling of the English language, the other writers, editors and mods at the site, and everyone else who’s been around for the last 18+ months to listen to me mumble, gripe and moan about comics. Special thanks are due to Kate, my lovely wife, who didn’t complain when I disappeared to write this every week. I’ll still be around online at Fanboy Rampage for daily snark and links (And there’s the second plug. But I’m done now, honest), but for now, this is the final Grim Tiding. It’s all happiness and smiles from now on, I’m telling you.

Well, maybe.