Tom Spurgeon writes entertaining, wise and funny posts every day that covers every inch of the wide world of comics. Today, though, he writes at length about something very personal and scary. Here too he's wise and funny and even gently profound in an essay that deals with mortality, his comic collection, the working life and, somehow, the Green Lantern movie.
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Thanks for the citation to Tom Spurgeon’s work, but, my god, the man does go on & on. Do we need to examine the comparative box offices of "Green Lantern" and "Hop"? Do we need to gossip about who runs D.C. Comics?
Part of the problem is that painful sans-serif font in which his paragraphs seem inherently tedious, but part of the problem is his lack of editing. When you find yourself writing the profound insight “life goes on”, then you know that your writing should—at least for now—not.
I appreciated his observations about working in comics and the clan of cartoonists, but he worries too much about what other people think. In addition, he continues to spout about his love of comics to the point that one might wonder whether he does or not.
In addition, loving “an art form” is creepy. I listen to the music of Charles Ives, of Haydn, of Bach, of Leonard Cohen, of John Coltrane, & of Morton Feldman. Do I love “music”? certainly not. I find this music interesting, just as I find "Cul De Sac" interesting. I can, however, live w/out any more "Fred Bassett" or "Questionable Content".
Furthermore, many of his observations are plain wrong. He claims, “Unlike prose or film or theater, we read comics as a window to other comics, comics we may never see, comics that may or may not be out there.” No, we don’t, and no, comics is no more a window than is “prose”, “film”, or “theater”.
In sum, I am sorry that Mr. Spurgeon got sick. I hope that he recovers to full health, and, when he does, he begins to edit.
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