Origins
Someone recently asked me if I could remember the first comic I ever bought. This was like asking a marathon runner who’s crossed the finish line to recall who was standing next to him at the start line – you know there was somebody there, but beyond the colour of their top, you can’t remember the shape of their beard.
Recollections of covers swirled past in my head. I couldn’t remember.
What was perhaps easier to remember was the enjoyment that reading comics brought me. Reading comics was always a glimpse into the future and a world of possibilities. It was a world you shared with characters, who, while they could fly and perform huge feats of strength, still faced human and everyday problems.
As a kid, I wasn’t drawn to these characters because of what they could do – although it played a part – rather, I felt they were already much like me, but the way in which they solved their struggles on such an epic and colourful canvas made facing my own problems less disconcerting.
The comics I enjoy today still fulfil that basic need.
