If you’re unfamiliar with the concept of “decompressed storytelling” in comic books, here’s the short version: It’s a combination of reducing the number of words per panel, increasing the number of panels per moment, and (consequently) stretching a given amount of plot over a larger number of pages/issues. Its proponents describe it as “cinematic” and highlight the ability to savor particular moments and tweak comedic timing. Its detractors say that it’s just a way for writers to stretch out their plots and milk ’em for all they’re worth (to the point of not making them worth much of anything).

My personal opinion has generally been of the, “If it’s done well, it’s great. If it’s done poorly, it’s crap. Just like everything else.” school.

But what I’ve recently realized is that this trend toward decompressed storytelling at the micro-level in comic books has been accompanied by a trend towards drastic compression of storytelling at the macro-level of mainstream superhero comics.

What I mean is the pace at which HUGE and DRAMATIC changes are brought down the pipeline. You can see this most dramatically in the milieu-shattering crossover events which are now essentially annual events at Marvel and DC, but you can find plenty of examples in individual titles, too. For example, when Geoff Johns rebooted the Green Lantern Corps he created a scenario which could have comfortably been used to tell dozens or hundreds of stories. Instead they told roughly 6 before launching into the next sequence of WE’RE CHANGING EVERYTHING.

The combination of (a) taking more time to tell a story while (b) having less time to tell a story is, in my opinion, increasingly disastrous.

Where this is perhaps most deeply felt is the relationship between characters. Bruce Wayne starts dating Jezebel Jet and the relationship is supposed to be completely changing his life before it turns out that she’s secretly betraying him… but since she appears in maybe a hundred panels between the time she’s introduced and the time she’s revealed to be a traitor, it’s really hard to take any of it seriously. Hal Jordan is in a new relationship with a lady call-signed Cowgirl, but there’s a publishing deadline so there’s no time to actually show us that relationship. Dick Grayson and Damien are supposed to be forging a deep and meaningful bond in their new working relationship as Batman and Robin… but the status quo necessary for us to invest into that relationship never actually exists.

“Status quo.” A potentially deadly phrase. Am I saying I just want comics to enter into a form of stasis? Not at all. I want to see Bruce Wayne fall for Jezebel Jet. I want to see Hal Jordan try to rediscover what it means to be human with Jillian “Cowgirl” Pearlman. I want to watch the comradeship between Dick Grayson and Damien grow into a rich and rewarding partnership.

But that’s not what I’m getting right now. What I’m getting right now is a sort of “highlight reel” of the actual story, followed abruptly by SOMETHING EPIC that CHANGES EVERYTHING.

The shallowness of what I’m experiencing in these (de)compressed books can be contrasted to three other recent comic-reading experiences I’ve had:

First, looking back at 52 I think one of the reasons I really enjoyed it was that the main characters seemed to get more time to just naturally reveal themselves over the course of the series than characters limited to monthly books do. Effectively, it was as if I was reading a comic from an alternate reality where the DC Universe had gone unplagued by a THIS CHANGES EVERYTHING event for more than four years. (Since the DC Universe has effectively been in a perpetual state of THIS CHANGES EVERYTHING for the better part of a decade, the contrast is huge.)

Second, I’ve been reading Walter Simonson’s mid-1980’s run on Thor. I’ve actually only gotten about six issues into it, but this is back in the “compressed” era of comic book storytelling and more shit can happen in 3 panels of this book than in entire issues of “decompressed” stories. The book is not entirely immune from character developments lacking justification (Sif falls for Beta Ray Bill without much in the way of narrative support to back it up), but I do note that the faster pace of events allows certain storytelling beats to be achieved effectively with fewer issues. (For example, Odin’s curse-gift to Beta Ray Bill comes after only knowing the character for a few issues… but you’ve spent so much narrative space with him that you’ve really come to know the character well and the curse-gift resonates beautifully as a result.)

Third, Paul Tobin’s work on Spider-Man Adventures as collected in Thwip!, Peter Parker vs. the X-Men, Amazing, and Sensational. These stories conveniently exist in the “Tobin-verse” and are completely separate from mainstream Marvel continuity… which means they’re immune to the macro-compression of the mega-events. Although Tobin uses a more relaxed, decompressed pacing within each issue he’s never forced to wrap things up in time for the next corporate-enforced game-changer. The result is that characters are given the room to breathe and develop; relationships become invested with the sorts of detailed storytelling that make them come alive; and the whole series is simply a delight. They’re also the best Spider-Man stories I’ve read in years.

So what I’m saying here is not “decompression is bad”. I’m not even saying that massive continuity shifts and cross-title mega-events are bad. But I am saying that the two of them together — the (de)compressed pace of modern superhero comics — does not seem to be a healthy combination.

I have something a little out of the ordinary for you today: An interview with Margaret Frazer, the award-winning author of the Dame Frevisse and Player Joliffe mysteries. As I’ve mentioned recently I’ve been producing book trailers for her novels. She’s recently released the e-book novella Winter Heart and she’s on a blog tour to celebrate. (Hence the virtual visit.)

A lot of people reading the Alexandrian are mostly interested in roleplaying games. A big challenge in roleplaying games is creating worlds and getting players to invest in them. In your books you do an amazing job of creating the world of medieval England. How do you get in that mindset? What sort of details do you use for creating that world for the reader and making them care about it?

Margaret: I’m a big fan of going otherwhere and otherwhen. When I got interested in medieval England, lo, these many years ago and wanted to get inside the heads of the people, I started reading everything I could find. I began with the easy-read, no-footnotes kind of books. Those led me on to biographies, and those had not only footnotes but bibliographies, and I’ve ended by reading not just scholarly works about the Middle Ages but what medieval people actually recorded about themselves – the stories they wrote down, their chronicles, the account rolls, the illustrated fight manuals made at the time. When I travelled, I went to medieval places – castles, cathedrals, ordinary churches, ordinary houses, battlefields, highways that have existed since Roman times. Anything and everything that would let me see their world as they did. When I belonged to the Society for Creative Anachronism, I wore medieval clothing, learned and used the manners and some of the arts of the time, authorized in sword and shield fighting and fought in melees. I know what it is to have in my hand a sword so beautiful balanced it practically lives, and what it is to go into close combat with the very real possibility of being hurt – not killed in this case but definitely dramatically bruised and battered!

Relating this to roleplaying, I can tell you I fully understand the adrenalin surge that carries your characters forward into a fight regardless of the danger! Because of all that, I have more than a book-knowledge of medieval life. I have a feel for what it was like, and that feeling informs my stories, making it possible for me to draw the reader in, for them to feel it, too. And what a reader feels, they hopefully care about.

Quite a bit of “Winter Heart” dwells on the matters of memory and age. Are those issues which have a particular resonance for you right now?

Yes. Several chronic ailments have been making my life a tad hellish of late. I’m being forced to embrace my “inner elderly” somewhat before the time I expected. But as with every other happenstance that comes to an author, the thought (unbidden and ineradicable) at the back of the mind remains “I have to remember how this feels. I can use it in a story sometime.”

“Winter Heart” is being released as an e-book. I know you’ve been working to get your older books available online as well. You often joke about living in the Middle Ages, so why are you embracing the “digital age”, so to speak?

Long before I came to medieval England, I was reading science fiction with vast delight, and it’s still where I go for refreshment. Why, I was [insert doddering old geezer’s voice] watching the original “Star Trek” before it was in reruns! So I’m fascinated with the wild things modern technology is coming up with. Also wary and
inclined to keep a safe distance (see above: geezer), but I have sons who keep putting things in my hands and showing me how great they are. That said, when flip-open cell phones first appeared, I had a hard time taking them seriously – I mean – really – they’re straight out of “Star Trek”, right?

The great thing with having my mind spread over several time periods – I like Prehistory as well as Medieval and Modern – is that by doing a kind of time travel, I see modern life from a different perspective than if I were immersed in only it and no other when or where. Those otherwhens and otherwheres let me see my own world with shadows and highlights I might otherwise never perceive.

Will we eventually see some of these books back in “real” print?

Almost certainly. My hope is to eventually have them all available in all the possible forms. It’s not my fault that technology keeps coming up with new forms faster than I (or rather, my Computer Person) can keep up with them! But we’re trying. That said, I must add that “real” print is still majorly important to me. Just a look at my home will tell anyone that. Nearly all available wall space is lined with bookshelves, and the shelves are mostly full. There’s a lot of general reading but nearly half of the books are for research – everything from fashions and fabrics, to recipes and how to set the lord’s high table, to agriculture and village life, to running the royal bureaucracy, to studies of warfare and particular battles, to politics, religion, economics, philosophy, international trade, and more. Medieval times were complex and far more multi-faceted than the clichés of most novels, tv shows, and movies show. I need to understand all of these aspects of medieval life in order to tell my stories well.

Isn’t that a lot to cram into a story?

I leave most of it out of my stories. All of it informs what goes into the stories, but very little actually surfaces. And when it does, I try to make it flow with the narrative, not intrude on and interrupt the story. “Winter Heart” was a particular exercise in this, because a number of aspects of medieval life are wound together to make the plot and yet I couldn’t allow them to obscure the action, only enhance. To put in all the facts needed to take a reader into another time and place, while keeping my research invisible, is the lovely and unending challenge I enjoy in all my books and stories.

That’s interesting. I talk about similar issues for Game Masters trying to parse out necessary information to their players in Getting Your Players to Care. Getting readers (or players) to invest can be tough, but it can be impressive how much depth you can build up — and how immersive you can make a fictional milieu — when you can develop it over time. You’ve been writing the Dame Frevisse books more than two decades now. How do you keep a series like that fresh?

I’ve been asked if I don’t get bored with writing the same book over and over again, and the simple answer to that is that I don’t write the same book over and over again, so I don’t get bored. This notion of writing the same book over and over apparently comes from the fact that a great many books are written to formula. If it’s a mystery, someone has to be dead very early in the book, preferably in the first few pages. Then there has to be a requisite amount of violence, conflict between the detective and some authority figure, and (if the author knows what’s good for her/him) a romantic/sexual entanglement. Following that template over and over would indeed bore me cross-eyed. So I don’t follow it. In many of my books I keep deliberately clear of those clichés. I’ve written one book where someone is dead in the very first pages, but usually there’s no corpse until much later in the book, when the reader has had time to get acquainted with the characters, making the death when it comes a far more personal matter. Too, in the Dame Frevisse series the story is told from two points of view – the main character’s and the title character’s – so that every book explores a different aspect of medieval society, letting me look at the world from all these different angles, keeping the stories fresh, and me very far from bored!

Despite Steam’s DRM and Valve’s demonstrable anti-consumer values, I found it impossible to resist picking up a copy of Portal 2. I have no decent excuse for this; Valve just seems to be the only company that can get me to routinely disregard my own self-interest in this regard.

The original Portal, of course, was a gem of a game. It took a single, innovative mechanic and fully explored it in almost every way imaginable. And it wedded that experience to an environment and a plot that were similarly laser-sharp in their focus.

When I saw the previews for Portal 2, I was concerned by what appeared to be a grabbag of new mechanics: Several different gels, launching pads, bombs, and a selection of energy fields. I thought it likely that the game was going to lose focus in an effort to find “the next portal gun” by throwing mechanics at the wall and waiting to see what would stick.

I was pleasantly surprised, however, to discover that this was not the case: Instead of distracting from the portal gun, the new puzzle mechanics feel like they’re unlocking the portal gun’s potential. They’re extending gameplay while keeping the focus firmly on the portal gun itself. If there’s any quibble to be had here, it’s that the puzzle designs don’t feel quite as crisp or complete. Unlike the original, Portal 2 feels like its left something on the table. (On the other hand, I haven’t played the cooperative campaign yet, so maybe things will be pushed farther there.)

Unfortunately, however, I was still right about the game losing focus: The story, world-building, and characters are all over the place. Instead of the original game’s intensity, Portal 2 diffuses itself across a hodgepodge of elements.

I probably should have been more suspicious going in. I know that when they rewrote the ending of Portal I was skeptical. (In my experience, the biggest mistake a sequel can make is trying to reset the clock. Pulling a Lucas and rewriting your original game in order to set things up for the sequel to reset the clock almost certainly isn’t a good idea.) But this really felt more like Portal fanfiction than anything else: Portal was amazing because it gave us something unique; Portal 2 too often feels like people consciously trying to recapture the magic of the original by aping its characteristics.

The story was also far too predictable, in my opinion. In Portal I was frequently surprised. In Portal 2 I was almost always three steps ahead of the story. And about half way through the game, the whole thing jumps the shark pretty severely, in my opinion. (I’ll come back later today and post a spoiler-filled explanation of what I’m talking about in the comments.)

Reflecting upon the game, I am also struck by something else. About midway through the original Portal, the nature of the game suddenly changes radically and something magical happens: You actually feel as if you’re pulling a fast one on the designers. You feel as if you’ve slipped off the rollercoaster and are charting your own course. It’s an illusion, of course, but it works. And since the designers are being personified in the game by GlaDOS, the result is not only incredibly invigorating, but also incredibly immersive.

The scenario in Portal 2 almost universally puts you in the same sort of “behind the carnival doors” sequence… but the effect isn’t the same. Even with the AI screaming on and on about how you’ve thrown a wrench into their plans, you can nevertheless see the hand of the designer all too clearly in every level: Even when you’re off the map, the puzzles are too trite; too predictable; too perfectly constructed to feel as if you’re charting your own course through a natural environment.

Ultimately I feel this was the thing that really pushed Portal over the top into being an all-time classic. And Portal 2 doesn’t get there.

So, what’s my verdict? Portal 2 may not be nearly as good as Portal, but it’s still a lot of fun. I recommend waiting until the price comes down to a more reasonable range, though. I don’t think it’s worth the $40-$50 it’s currently being retailed for.

Every so often I give Geoff Johns a chance to convince me that he’s not a hack. I do this because he keeps getting such glowing praise that I think to myself, “It must be that I just haven’t read the right Geoff Johns comics.”

But it never works. Every time I try reading something by Geoff Johns, I always find the same thing: Mediocrity.

My latest effort has been his work on Green Lantern. I started with Green Lantern: Secret Origin (which was a decent retelling of the origin story), continued with Green Lantern: Rebirth (which was a passable effort at making a pure Tale of Grand Retcon(TM) something other than a mind-numbing exercise in dotting your i’s and crossing your t’s on the way to explaining why some other set of stories never actually happened), and landed in Green Lantern: No Fear.

These pages from the last of these volumes, taken from two back-to-back stories, tell you pretty much everything you need to know about Geoff Johns.

(You can click for larger images.)

While the surface quality has been changed, those pages both tell the exact same story: Random and essentially nameless man and woman chat for a couple of panels. The big bad guy for the issue shows up and slaughters the man in a gruesome fashion. The death of the woman is then implied, but left off-panel so that we can imagine it in our own gruesome detail.

I don’t have a problem with the story. (The first artist, in particular, does a great job of pacing it and that final panel of red is inspired.) I do have a problem with the fact that Johns is repeating himself in the most formulaic fashion.

It would be one thing if this was just some random nitpick. But the real problem here is that these pages are merely the most perfect encapsulation of what’s wrong with these volumes: At both the micro level and the macro level, Johns repeats himself. And repeats himself. And repeats himself. And repeats himself…

And once you’ve noticed it, you also can’t help noticing that Johns is also repeating a lot of other people, too.

I don’t mean this in the sense of plagiarism. I just mean that there is absolutely nothing interesting or inspiring in anything that Johns has to say: We’ve seen these stories before. And we’ve seen them done better.

If you’re brand new to superhero comics, then you might potentially find Johns’ work nifty. It’s a workman-like rendition of nifty stuff drawn from what is clearly Johns’ own passion for superhero stories. But unlike Kurt Busiek or Grant Morrison or Mark Waid (when he’s at his best), there is absolutely nothing transformative or reinvigorating or fresh in anything that Johns is doing. Instead, it’s paint-by-numbers storytelling so predictable in its technique that it’s as if Johns is dealing a hand of poker using transparent cards.

But I’m a sucker, so give me another five years and I’ll probably give the guy another shot.

GRADES:

GREEN LANTERN – SECRET ORIGIN: D
GREEN LANTERN – REBIRTH: D-
GREEN LANTERN – NO FEAR: F

Geoff Johns
Published: 2008 / 2005 / 2005
Publisher: DC Comics
Cover Price: $19.99 / $14.99 / $12.99
ISBN: 1401230857 / 1401227554 / 1401210589
Buy Now!

Step 1: I have just read some interesting things about recent DC continuity and would like to check it out.

Step 2: Let’s try Infinite Crisis.

Step 3: Ah, there’s a Countdown to Infinite Crisis. I should read that first.

Step 4: Hmm… Apparently this ties into a bunch of mini-series leading up to Infinite Crisis. Some googling reveals The OMAC Project, Rann-Thanagar War, Days of Vengeance, Villains United, and The Return of Donna Troy.

Step 5: And some more googling tells me what order I should read them in. Also, I seem to have missed a Prelude to Infinite Crisis…

Step 6: … and these mini-series wrap-up in several specials. When should I read those?

Step 7: Oh. Intermixed semi-randomly between the seven issues of Infinite Crisis.

Step 8: Okay, now I can start reading.

Step 9: Three issues into The OMAC Project and apparently the “story continues” with Superman: Sacrifice. Can I just skip that and keep reading this series? … Nope. Nothing makes sense. (In fact, it turns out that Superman: Sacrifice contains the event which arguably triggers the entire Infinite Crisis.)

Step 10: … and Superman: Sacrifice is split across three different Superman comics and a random issue of Wonder Woman.

Step 11: Okay. Tracked those down. I’ll continue reading…

Step 12: And then Infinite Crisis sucked.

(Some of the mini-series were pretty decent, though.)

Why is DC Comics asking me to do this much homework in order to simply read their books?

Admittedly, only some of this material was actually crucial for understanding and appreciating Infinite Crisis (insofar as that drek could appreciated on any level). But that doesn’t actually help, because I had absolutely no way of figuring out which bits weren’t essential until after I’d read them. (And it’s not as if I tried to seek out every issue of DC that crossed over with Infinite Crisis. These are just the major backbones of the event.)

If Marvel and DC really feel it’s important to create this kind of convoluted, multi-title, overlapping continuity, I say more power to them. But, if so, then it would really behoove them to put together reading lists so that readers who are interested in their comics can trivially figure out what they need to read.

Having cleared Infinite Crisis, I proceeded to 52 — which was delightfully straight-forward, except for the bit where you read issues #1 thru #50, then stop and read World War III #1-4, before finishing with 52 #51-52. (This problem, at least, is cleared up in the collections.)

But now I’m trying to figure out Countdown to Final Crisis and, as far as I can tell, it is literally impossible to put together a reading order for its penumbra of narrative. (In fact, all I can find online are people saying, “I dunno.”)

Below the “Read More” barrier, however, I have included my reading order for the first chunk of the modern crisis era at DC Comics (for anyone who might find it useful). I have included my personal grades for each story in parentheses after each title.

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