I did read some of the great British comic staples for a while such as Beano, Dandy, and Eagle. I didn’t find the characters that interesting and the storylines generally didn’t land for me, so my early childhood experience with comics could only be considered a dalliance. In my adolescence I read Shoot!, Roy of the Rovers, 2000 A.D. and the like, but again not with any consistency.
British comics, for me at least, didn’t have a level of ‘glamour’ to really hold my attention. T.V. imagery provided a scintillating backdrop to my childhood and reading books allowed my imagination to do likewise. Comics should’ve been somewhere in the middle, providing captivating visuals coupled with exciting story lines, but I always found them all a bit, well, dull.
Then one summer, in 1984, my attitude towards comics changed dramatically – and I have America to thank for it. It was a Sunday morning and I was at the local newsagents collecting the papers for my Dad — as well as spend whatever change I had left on sweets. Whilst picking up the newspapers up off the rack, my eyes were drawn to something striking. There were the familiar images of Spider-Man and The Incredible Hulk, both known to me from T.V. But additionally, there were a whole slew of brightly costumed super-heroes sharing that same comic cover.
There was a guy with cool looking shield, another with an electrified hammer, a dude in an airborne robot suit with flames roaring out of his boots, and a mean looking fella with claw-like blades coming out of his hands! Who were they? What was this? I had to know!
My sweets money became my comic money, and I purchased issue No.1 of Marvel’s highly ambitious, multi-titled crossover event, Secret Wars. And that was that. From that moment comics became a staple of my adolescence.
Some friends and I found a couple of comic book shops in Oxford and would cycle there at least once a month to purchase American comics. I read every issue of Secret Wars and having been introduced to Captain America, Thor, Iron Man, and The X-Men, had to read more.
Occasionally I’d stumble across a comic that didn’t center around a typical hero-type; no flashy costumes or powers to speak of, just engaging characters and good old-fashioned storytelling. One such comic was called Bone, and it was an absolute gem.
Recently, I introduced my ten-year-old son to Bone, over 20 years since I had last picked it up. I handed him the first of the nine collected volumes with more anxiety than I had anticipated. Was he too young for it? Would he enjoy it? If he didn’t, would I be crushed? (Yes!)
He ploughed through the first volume almost without looking up before eagerly requesting the second. Later, he excitedly took his first trip to a comic shop with me in search of whichever volume he needed next and picked up some other comics at the same time. He loved it, and I loved sharing the experience with him.
Then one night I had a unique and unforgettable privilege. I stopped at my son’s bedroom door, ready to enter his room and tell him it was time to stop reading and go to sleep, when I noticed that he was finishing up the last page of Bone, Volume 9. His journey with these wonderful characters, the same characters that had impacted me so greatly in my youth and who had stayed with me to this day, was coming to the end.
He finished the story, lingering on the final panel, before slowly closing the book and resting his hand atop as he continued to stare down at it. It was a powerful, sad, but joyous moment.
My boy, who loved to read, had found a new outlet for his passion. And I can say with the confidence that comes from first-hand experience, that comics will continue to be there for him for the rest of his life.
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Become a Patron!British comics, for me at least, didn’t have a level of ‘glamour’ to really hold my attention. T.V. imagery provided a scintillating backdrop to my childhood and reading books allowed my imagination to do likewise. Comics should’ve been somewhere in the middle, providing captivating visuals coupled with exciting story lines, but I always found them all a bit, well, dull.
Then one summer, in 1984, my attitude towards comics changed dramatically – and I have America to thank for it. It was a Sunday morning and I was at the local newsagents collecting the papers for my Dad — as well as spend whatever change I had left on sweets. Whilst picking up the newspapers up off the rack, my eyes were drawn to something striking. There were the familiar images of Spider-Man and The Incredible Hulk, both known to me from T.V. But additionally, there were a whole slew of brightly costumed super-heroes sharing that same comic cover.
There was a guy with cool looking shield, another with an electrified hammer, a dude in an airborne robot suit with flames roaring out of his boots, and a mean looking fella with claw-like blades coming out of his hands! Who were they? What was this? I had to know!
My sweets money became my comic money, and I purchased issue No.1 of Marvel’s highly ambitious, multi-titled crossover event, Secret Wars. And that was that. From that moment comics became a staple of my adolescence.
Some friends and I found a couple of comic book shops in Oxford and would cycle there at least once a month to purchase American comics. I read every issue of Secret Wars and having been introduced to Captain America, Thor, Iron Man, and The X-Men, had to read more.
Occasionally I’d stumble across a comic that didn’t center around a typical hero-type; no flashy costumes or powers to speak of, just engaging characters and good old-fashioned storytelling. One such comic was called Bone, and it was an absolute gem.
Recently, I introduced my ten-year-old son to Bone, over 20 years since I had last picked it up. I handed him the first of the nine collected volumes with more anxiety than I had anticipated. Was he too young for it? Would he enjoy it? If he didn’t, would I be crushed? (Yes!)
He ploughed through the first volume almost without looking up before eagerly requesting the second. Later, he excitedly took his first trip to a comic shop with me in search of whichever volume he needed next and picked up some other comics at the same time. He loved it, and I loved sharing the experience with him.
Then one night I had a unique and unforgettable privilege. I stopped at my son’s bedroom door, ready to enter his room and tell him it was time to stop reading and go to sleep, when I noticed that he was finishing up the last page of Bone, Volume 9. His journey with these wonderful characters, the same characters that had impacted me so greatly in my youth and who had stayed with me to this day, was coming to the end.
He finished the story, lingering on the final panel, before slowly closing the book and resting his hand atop as he continued to stare down at it. It was a powerful, sad, but joyous moment.
My boy, who loved to read, had found a new outlet for his passion. And I can say with the confidence that comes from first-hand experience, that comics will continue to be there for him for the rest of his life.
Mark Turner is formerly of Oxford, England, but has lived in America for over 16 years, the majority of that time in Colorado. Mark enjoys playing soccer (football!), hiking and biking when the weathers good, and when the weathers rotten writing blog entries that he hopes will amuse and entertain. Mark can be followed on Twitter @melchett, or listened to on the Whistle Stop Week (@WSWShow), a news comedy podcast he hosts.
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