My Iron Man post of a few weeks ago got me thinking about comics and collectibles in general and, more specifically, why I don’t buy comics any more, and a few reasons became immediately clear:
- You can’t buy comics in the grocery store any more. When I was a kid I actually looked forward to going to the grocer with mom because I could squat on the floor at the comic book rack and pick out a few to take home with me. I could keep up with the whole Marvel or DC universe on an almost weekly basis. Today, to get comics you must go to a comic book store, of which there are very few, or a book store, which doesn’t carry many titles.
- They’re too damned expensive. I have no problem with costs rising and prices rising. But the prices of comics have risen too much. There was a time when I could buy every comic in the Marvel Universe as they came out, but now, with so many titles which sell for over $3.25 apiece, there’s no way I can afford to keep up with more than a few.
- Too many titles. This is especially true when there are several titles for the same group, like the X-Men. The X-Men were doing so well in the 80s that Marvel introduced several other X-titles. And it was evident that those new titles weren’t there to further explore the universe, they were only there to increase sales. It was pathetic, and it was ultimately what drove me away from comics in the first place.
The biggest mistake made, in my opinion, was that they began to market to collectors rather than their fanbase. Today if I go to a comic store to buy a comic the shop owner will ask if I want two copies, one to read and one to keep in pristine condition. This, to me, goes against all logic and reason. For starters, the reason comics were collectible in the first place was never because they were marketed to collectors, just the contrary, it was because collectors didn’t buy them until they became collectible. Comics were collectible because kids bought them, and very few of them survived being read and carried around in a back pocket and torn, ripped, and shared among other kids or traded for marbles.
When the clerk asks me if I want my comics bagged I tell him no. I read my comics and then I stick them in a box. This always is met with shock and disapproval. “How can you not bag them?” they ask. And I answer, “Because I buy them for the story. To read.” I don’t buy them for their presumed potential value in the future. And will they be valuable in the future? Hell no. Not when you’re selling two to a customer, one to be kept in pristine condition forever. Why should I keep them in baggies? The industry itself is ensuring they won’t be worth a dime as collectibles because of the way they’re marketing them.
One of the great (stupid) tactics of the comic book industry was when they began rolling off limited-print special-cover copies. They’ll do two covers, and print a bazillion copies of one but only two thousand of the other. So basically they’re guaranteeing that there will be two thousand pristine copies of that comic book enshrined in a static free, lint free, oxygen free environment for at least a thousand years. Actually, for the publisher I guess that’s a good move, but for the would-be collector it’s a stupid idea to buy them with any expectation that they’ll actually one day be worth more than the cover price.
No, a comic is collectible is when it’s fun and interesting and when only a few copies survive through the years. The one that was stuck in a box unread and forgotten is the one that’ll be worth the most money in the end. The things that are supposed to be collectible might enjoy a brief spurt of collectible frenzy, but in the end the only things that wind up collectible are those things that weren’t to begin with, the rarities of the world.
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What’s funny is that collectors of all stripes could learn something from the sports card industry, which surely peaked before comic books did–and sports cards are, effectively, nothing more than collectibles. Especially in the day when you can look up pictures and career stats of your favorite players with ease on the internet–and packs of cards have also been priced beyond desirability.
But in the same way, everything that was produced in sports cards from the 1990s on has never achieved more than a token increase in value, nothing at all like the college-loan-paying-off inflation in value that went on for everything pre-1990.
Comics at least have some “secondary” content to offer, that can have wider appeal. And certainly there is appeal, since superhero movies tend to tank because of bad moviemaking decisions, not because the name value is depressed. But the current state of comics is far too complex and intimidating–and expensive–for the casual reader. When Spider-Man has half a dozen “continuities,” most of which feature a dead Mary Jane and one which is centered around her, you’re bound to confuse and drive away the casual reader who isn’t going to grasp the difference between “The Amazing Spider-Man” and “Spider-Man Marvel Knights” or whatever.
Exactly; you just hit on the other huge problem with comics, wherein they keep different stories going that don’t coincide. One of the great habits Jim Shooter had in Marvel during the 80s was to ensure continuity between every character in the universe. But hell, they’ve already lost me so I guess it doesn’t matter now anyway. I wish they were still great though, I really do.
As for sports cards, I’ve got a few boxes full of them, too. I just got on a kick for them for a few years and started collecting them for fun. Oddly enough, once I started collecting them for their value alone, they lost value to me. Not to mention the other problem with collecting cards: When I was collecting the two really hot cards that were worth the most money were Griffey Jr. and Frank Thomas. But after a couple of down years their prices went in the dirt. It makes perfect sense to me now, but then, when I was in the throes of finding the Next Great Card, I didn’t realize they have to sit there for a few years and still be desirable to be worth a dime. Once there wasn’t any real chance of hitting anything really worthwhile, I stopped buying them.
Just like the “Death of Superman” issue. All those copies out there, in bags, never read, there is absolutely no way that issue will be worth much of anything. Well, I guess until everybody throws them away because they don’t see the economic sense of keeping them.
At World Fantasy, there was a panel honoring Bettie Ballantine and a few people made comments about the health of books, specifically mass market paperbacks, that mirror you’re point #1. Tom Doherty makes the same points here, but a little less emphatically and as clear as the discussion on the panel.
Yes, that article nails it. I was browsing my local CVS the other day and I thought I might pick up a paperback while I was there. Uh-uh. Not unless I want a romance. It’s a small selection and there’s really not much for anyone who isn’t a stay-at-home mom to care about. Nothing against stay-at-home moms, and I know they don’t all read sappy romances, but there’s a reason General Hospital is aired during a typical baby’s nap hour.
For my part, I wish we had wire book racks in gas stations, too. (They used to). I’d browse a quick stop a little longer if I had a chance at picking up a copy of a cool paperback novel (or novella!). Of course, that’s with the caveat that there must be something of interest to me on that rack (Scalzi paperback, anyone?)
But comics won’t work in a quick stop any more. No. I’d readily pay 5 or 10 bucks for a paperback, but I’m not about to spend 4 or 5 bucks on something I’ll read in ten minutes on a slow day.