white radical nerd lady in my 30s
transplanted to the East Coast US
happily living in sin with my co-conspirator Mr. X
my Dragon Age sideblog
Other tags of interest - Places I Wish I Was Right Now, GPOY, owls, you are cordially invited to my pants, this has been a post, OH MY GOD, Favorite of all the things, Maru is the best cat in the whole world
Just when you thought DC Comics couldn’t piss off fans more, apparently GL writer Joshua Hale Fialkov left the series because editorial wants to and is preparing to kill off John Stewart.
Mr. X just sent me the same article, saying “Yup, glad I stopped collecting new mainstream comics. Just a fucking whitewash mess”
I was never into DC Comics but I watched the hell out of the Justice League animated series. To people like me, Jon Stewart IS Green Lantern. What kind of idiot thought this was a good idea?
One of the reasons I wanted to write this piece is because I feel The Invisibles has been somewhat misrepresented in other media. I’m sad to say I haven’t been able to get my hands on Patrick Meaney’s book yet, but I’ve got a copy of Anarchy for the Masses on my shelf. Flicking through it again for the first time in what must have been years, and largely because I was interested in the interview at the back, what immediately struck me was how at odds with the spirit of The Invisibles the book is. While the authors appear to recognize the comic encourages multiple interpretations, their bolt-holing together of detailed character biographies and time-lines, their frequent literalizations of potentially metaphoric and figurative elements, and their general insistence on uncovering the “truth” of what occurs, belies a desire to flatten everything out and turn the comic into something it defiantly isn’t. A story. (Although you must forgive me if I continue to refer to it as such for the duration of this essay. The word meta-text makes my girlfriend’s teeth hurt.) You can see them there, pulling their hair out, because if one could just unravel all the time travel nonsense, then….. Like the man in Room 101, The Invisibles is always half finished, and any solution to it necessarily contains a lacuna to be filled in by another solution and then anoth… You get the point. Morrison even states in the interview at the back that everyone saves the world — not everyone plays a hand in saving the world, but everyone, all the cell members, save the world. This isn’t possible in a world with one solution. There is no magic key that unlocks the text.
The reader can see the book scaling up in complexity as it progresses. We begin with a simple and straight aheadtale of good versus evil, which progresses by the closing chapter of volume two into the syncretic, quantum reality of Schroedinger’s Cats and then by the third volume collapses altogether. But it’s the comic’s final issue that really spells it out. Issue twelve of volume three sees a billion “solutions” bearing down on December the Twenty-Second, Two Thousand and Twelve simultaneously: The Invisibles is a super virtual reality video game from which, in order to “win,” the player, embedded in his avatar, must wake up; The Invisibles describes the process of a 4D entity as it struggles to be born; The Invisibles is John a Dreams’ flowering into Buddha-hood; or maybe the Invisibles don’t matter at all and it’s the nanites that transform everything and everyone into whatever happens next….
If hauntology is concerned with revealing the ghosts – the dormant meanings – haunting the text and finds its artistic correlate in half-finished, negative art, like Aerial Pink’s muddily allusive anti-pop and Burial’s assassinated seance-rave, then The Invisibles is the hauntological text par excellence. It is ghosted by as many different readings as you like, from straightforward interpretations of the action, to autobiography, to auto-critique. And it’s this quality, this re-imagining of reality as something pregnant with its own disruption, its own anti-mirror, this permanent recuperation, not some Sherlock Holmes style breaking down of the comics events (which holds some pleasures, yes, but is ultimately, gloriously futile if it refuses to recognize its own limits) which makes The Invisibles interesting, relevant and, perhaps, important.
- I have not read any other interpretations of The Invisibles, but after reading this essay I don’t think I need to.
you know what’s really dumb
the whole ‘love triangle’ and ‘you can only choose ONE’ thing in romance plotlines
like fuck you
i want a hero/heroine to step back, flip the bird to the author, and say “you know what, i want both of you.” and then for the love interests to look at each other, shrug, and say “i’ll share if you’ll share”
forever annoyed that Strangers in Paradise didn’t end this way.
is Wonder Woman.
Imagine you’re raised in this utopian, women only warrior society (this part isn’t fucked up) and you’re taught all about how outside of your society which is magically shielded by super-science/magic
there lies “man’s world.”
Man’s world is just horrible and fucked and violent place you hear stories about and the people who inhabit it and you reach a point growing up where you probably think “okay mom, it’s probably not that bad. Shit I bet men don’t even really exist you’re just fucking with me.”
And then a fucking man shows up on your island. He’s not at all like the ones that you’ve heard about. He’s not some violent monster who wants to ruin everything he touches. He’s a good dude. You decide you want to go see man’s world, you fight for the right to become your peoples champion and ambassador. It’s your job to share with man’s world the wonders of Amazonian society.
You get to man’s world and it’s fucking astounding. There are crazy tall buildings and cars and ice cream and all these different cultures and music and it’s just fucking mind blowing.
And there are lots of men. They’re walking down the street side by side with women. They aren’t murdering them, they aren’t reducing things to cinders. Obviously all the stories your mother told you were horse shit.
But then you start to pull back the curtain. You hear and see men disrespect women on the street. You go to the mall and wonder why all the mannequins are the same size if all the women clearly aren’t. You see all these magazines telling women what’s wrong with them, what they have to do to please men. That’s when you start wondering what’s up with this world.
You find out women are paid less then men, that no woman has ever been the leader of the United States, you see crime statistics, and you find out that this Steve Trevor, who you really thought was a good person, is an agent of a government that has declared the assaults on female soldiers “occupational hazards.”
Then you realize it’s not just the United States, it’s all over “man’s world.”
It hits you that this place is even worse than all the stories you heard.
And the worst part about it is: the gods that you’ve been raised to worship and fear, the gods that you know fucking exist, don’t want to do shit about it.
Imagine what that would do to you?
I wanna read about that Wonder Woman, the Year One Wonder Woman who’s like jesus in the temple flipping shit over. I wanna read about the Wonder Woman who’s so appalled by the conditions of man’s world she marches into the UN and tells everyone off. The Wonder Woman who meets a crying girl on a street corner, finds out that her boyfriend just laid hands on her and then goes and cuts off his hands.
Writers too often fall back on all that mythology shit as if Medusa and hydras and gorgons are the worst monsters that Diana can fight.
The monsters Wonder Woman should be fighting are the ones her mother told her about as a kid