Green Pieces (Part Zero)

Before we get started (again), there's a few things you should know, that I should, I suppose, admit.

First, I'm not all that bad. I know we have a tendency to get our complaining on here at the Week, but it's not all that dire. The thing is, as any cultural critic--or kid with internet access and too much time on his hands--knows, it's a lot easier to point out what's wrong than what's right. And it's more fun; "brilliant display" just doesn't have the same sensational ring as "epic disaster". And you know this. But there's good stuff out there, stuff worth spending your time and money on. How do I know this? Because without the good, we wouldn't be able to recognize the bad, and then we'd have nothing to bitch about. Endlessly.

Second, if it's good now, it was better then. I mean, as loath as I am to fall into the rhetorical trap of lamenting the departure of the good ol' days, the fact is that I don't enjoy comics now as much as I did when I was 13, 14, 15. But then, I'm not supposed to. When I say I don't "enjoy" comics as much, I mean just that, not that they're not as enjoyable, but that I don't enjoy them as much as I used to. Nor do I enjoy music, movies, my friends, myself, anything as much as I did when I was a teenager. I don't think it's all defeatist to admit that kids fundamentally enjoy life more than adults (not that I'm Methuselah). And, all evidence to the contrary, I'm no longer a kid. But I can remember the past. And, more importantly, I can use it to inform the future. And recommend it.

Third, I think I'm fairly well-rounded. Literally, certainly, sadly, but figuratively, as well. You want to talk about LCD Soundsystem, or Napoleon Dynamite, or Jonathan Safran Foer, or even, um, current events, and stuff, sure, I can hold it down. But if we talk long enough, see if I don't steer the conversation towards The Invisibles. Bottom line: I'm a geek. But you knew that, didn't you.

So why all the soul-bearing, you might ask, and what has this to do with House of M? Well, I have to admit that it has nothing to do with House of M (which, if I could get a quick zinger in, looks just short of awesome enough), but I haven't forgotten that this is a comics blog.

You see, I've been thinking about the Hulk.

My association with the Hulk began in 1994, with issue 417. It was the bachelor party issue, the prelude to the big Rick/Marlo wedding that'd occur in the subsequent issue. Peter David was at the height of his powers. He had established an apparant rapport with then-artist Gary Frank (still, in my opinion, the best artist of David's run) and was reaching the climax of "The Pantheon Saga", the truly epic storyline that David had begun years before. It was a good time to read The Incredible Hulk. As years went by, I continued following the Hulk's adventures, simultaneously watching where the character went and working backwards to see from where he had come. Eventually, I gathered a complete run of David's Hulk, 328-467 (minus a few holes and plus a few addenda). I read them as I got them, mentally assembling the pieces of the character with whom David is, and always will be, indellibly associated. It's my favorite superhero comic, even better regarded, in my estimation, than the previously mentioned Starman. The run demonstrated a better rapport between a creator and a character that he had not created than one might think is possible. I've reads stories where creators had less of an understanding of characters they'd created than Peter David did of Bruce Banner.

So you understand that I was excited when, after seven some-odd years, David and the Hulk were reunited.

And you understand, hopefully, that I was disappointed when the storyline (still, I admit, uncompleted), proved not to be the greatest of all time.

There's a few things going on here. First, I'm sure that David's a little rusty, after having spent so much time away from the character, and to some degree directed creatively by editorial mandates. Second, and for our purposes more important, I'm sure I've worked up a serious of unfair expectations, romanticizing David's run as something more than what it probably was: a really good comic book story.

So. Here's the punchline: I'm going back home. As I mentioned above, I've collected and read all of David's contributions to the Hulk mythos. And I've read them all. But not in order.

But I'm going to.

The project is: I read these comics, The Incredible Hulk 328-467, minus a few holes and plus a few addenda. Periodically, I stop reading, and I write about what I've read so far, always while considering whether or not these books, more than a decade after I've read them for the first time and certainly too long since I've read them last, are in fact as good as I've made them up to be. (The nice thing about David's eleven-year [!] run is that is can be broken up into a number of big eras, often punctuated by a change of artist.)

I meant to post my consideration of the beginning of David's run here, after this brief introduction, but I've realized that I've neither now nor probably ever written anything that can be unironically described as "brief". So the beginning, 328 (331, techinically) to 346 or so, will be considered in a seperate post, to be, um, posted, tomorrow. So check back, Weeklings! Were things actually better then? Find out soon!

(By the way, check the archives if you're so inclined, but I believe that was the first official Wednesday Week cliffhanger. God willing, it was the last.)

(Um.)