I spent most of my life reading comics.
To be clear, I’ve had a love affair with reading my whole life, but it all started when I was five with comics. My neighbor’s son, a high school boy, was getting rid of his comics (outgrew them I guess), and he gave them to me. He just handed me a huge pile over the short fence between yards, and those comics hijacked my imagination.
I don’t remember much about most of those first comics, but I do remember one specifically. It was Amazing Spider-Man #46. Spider-Man fought the Shocker, and for most of the story, poor Spidey had his arm in a web sling. I devoured those single issues and before I knew it, every single time my dad went to the local High’s store for cigarettes, I was begging him to let me come and get a new comic book to read. (They had a spinner rack full of comics in the back. It was a magical creation.)
I’ve read comics at all times in my life, even when people in my life frowned upon it or tried to make me feel bad about it. The haters were never a problem, though sometimes when it came from friends or family, that did hurt more. But I never gave them up, never walked away from the medium. I even read and collected comics when I spent 13 months in Afghanistan. So there.
When I was a teenager, my love of superhero comics took a slight backburner to comics like Sandman, Hellblazer, V For Vendetta, Preacher, Strangers In Paradise, Hellboy, and many other mature titles. The superhero books that interested me during this time were those that weren’t the typical fanfare. These were titles like James Robinson and Tony Harris’ Starman, Stormwatch (later The Authority) and Planetary under scribe Warren Ellis, and essentially anything Alan Moore was doing. It was during that time I went back and discovered Frank Miller’s Daredevil run and his The Dark Knight Returns.