Another comic book nostalgia story. The other week, inspired by the nostalgia (and, beyond that, simple enjoyment) of reading the big Superman omnibii, I considered buying a massive collection of another series I loved from the same era, only to take a look at the actual comic book collection and realize that I could simply complete a collection of the original comics for a fraction of the price; I did that instead, of course. What I didn’t expect when the various eBay-ed packages arrived, however, was the surreal sense memories that I’d have as I opened them.
It’s one comic in particular that set me off. I can remember buying the first issue of the 1987 Justice League (later Justice League International, later again Justice League America because there was a spin-off so the world got divided; capitalism taking its toll again back in 1989 as it did) off the stands; I was 12 at the time, by process of math, and I could tell you right now what newsagents I was at and walk right there if I was back in my hometown. I can remember, inexplicably, what it looked like in the store, and my giddy sense of excitement at picking it up and taking it home. (It was a first issue, it said so right there on the cover, that made it a big deal, right? It was the start of something, it felt important even if it’s just because it told me it was important!)
More than that, I can remember loving that comic; I re-read it over and over and over, fascinated by its off-kilter tone and references I didn’t quite get at that age and the artwork that was more photo-realistic and less dynamic than I was used to. I became obsessed with that series to the point of almost spending obscene (for me at the time) amounts of money on a rare edition to complete the set. I read that issue until it was literally falling apart; I can remember the tape that held the cover on, and how oddly guilty I felt about that at the time.
All of this flashed into my head as I unpacked this new edition of the comic. I kept looking at it in awe, as if it held some kind of magical powers, almost too nervous to even touch it; this connection to something so important to me almost four decades earlier, as if it could open a hole in time and drop me back there and then without effort.