Posted: 06 December 2009 at 8:10pm | IP Logged | 4
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Perhaps we can frame this discussion better by looking at those high grade pamphlet comic books as artifacts. Mass produced artifacts, certainly, but artifacts nevertheless. Let's just swap to a different media for a moment to offer a comparative example.
A Beatles song has a certain artistic value, an aesthetic. For the simple pleasure of that song, I can purchase a current greatest hits CD at Best Buy or download it in MP3 format via iTunes and listen for enjoyment. But that same song in its original format as a vinyl 45 or LP has an added value. Perhaps there is a personal emotional attachment -- I had that record long ago and listened to it on my little suitcase record player -- or maybe it's having a copy of the FIRST release of that song. Whatever the case, I'm sure we would all agree that an unscratched 45 of our song in question would be more preferable than another version of that same 45 which skips and hisses.
Thus, we have two different wants and desires: the song, which is reproduced and re-released and often readily available in a higher quality than the original version through remastering, and the song as an artifact of its time. And, certainly, the original master tapes would have more one-of-a-kind value, but to the average music fan such master tapes are a foreign concept, and to those aware of them, few would have the equipment available to play them. To the mass audience, the original vinyl release IS the song.
At one time, back issue comic books were just about the ONLY way you could read the old stories. The occasional reprint series, annual or DC Giant were a rare glimpse into those early days. I remember the thrill of purchasing copies of Superman from the 30s to the 70s and Batman from the 30s to the 70s, and getting those Stan Lee Bring on the Bad Guys type-books from the library for all the "rarities" they contained.
Back then, there was the world of the older fan that we neophytes couldn't share unless we found those back issues, harder than not in a backwater like Edmonton in the 1970s with only a few secondhand shops and then, finally, a comic book store called Hobbit's Fantasy Shoppe. As a pre-teen I'd heard about things like The Galactus Trilogy or The Kree/Skrull War whispered about in hushed tones, but I couldn't share in them until they were finally reprinted. (Younger fans of today, imagine us old farts gushing about The Dark Phoenix Saga or The Elektra Arc and, with no trades, digital reprints or websites to consult for reference, only a handful of you lucky enough to dig up those 30 year-old-books could nod in understanding.)
Thus, before all the Marvel Masterworks and digital comics, back issues had both a practical and an intrinsic value in addition to their artistic worth as products of entertainment: they were the only source to access past work, much like the value of the original release of LPs before the advent of the K-Tel Greatest Hits Collection.
Now, back issues hold merely a perception of value as an artifact, an emotional value to an ever-shrinking class of collector and investor. Cash out now, kids. Apart from the novelty value, my 12-year-old son will likely never be interested in owning an original copy of any of the books he's enjoyed in their Showcase, Essentials, Masterwork or Archive collection format, just as he is never likely to seek out a Beatles 45 of one of the tunes he loves to play on Beatles Rockband.
Edited by Matthew McCallum on 06 December 2009 at 8:20pm
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