A day in the life of "Do I really own this?"

[thebitterguy]

Sometimes, you realize that you do, actually, own something. Maybe it's a book, or a piece of clothing, a movie or a cd. Recently, I remembered that I owned Twilight, a miniseries by Howard Chaykin & Jose Luis Garcia Lopez.

It's a strange creation, something put together by two very talented guys.

The core idea of Twilight was that it was a 're-imagining' of the various science fiction characters that DC had produced before they died off in the winnowing of the comics industry. This was in the early 90s, when people didn't reimagine a lot, since they were in the throes of the speculation boom.

I was moderately familiar with some of the characters. I'd acquired a giant sized DC book that had a Space Cabbie story and a Star Rovers story. The characters were pretty much the epitome of four colour silliness, with Space Cabbie being, well, a cabbie in space, and the Star Rovers a trio of galactic dilettantes, travelling around having adventures. It was the typically fun stuff that could be found back in the day. Tommy Tomorrow was, in the wake of Crisis, now the future of Kamandi.

Twilight, on the other hand, had other ideas. Chaykin put together a galaxy in the aftermath of war between humans and any comers: alien Methusieloids, uplifted animals and robots. He also nastified all the various characters, making Tomorrow a fascist, Space Cabbie a bad stereotype of a slobby cab driver (remember, in his incarnation he'd been a cab driver in a suit who wore a hat. One of those classy hats, too. And a bow tie. At least he didn't make him a sikh) and making the Star Rovers generally less pleasant.

Sure, all of it could be considered to be more realistic, but did we need the realism? Do we need guys who hunt outlaw aliens, wear bubble helmets, and drive interstellar space taxis to be racist (are robots a race?) misanthropes? Hell, making a guy named Tommy Tomorrow a bad guy is not very indicative of a sensawunda attitude.

The high point of the series was definitely the art. Jose Luis Garcia Lopez is one of my favourite artists of my youth. Atari Force was a great little book, and his work on Twilight was strong and clean.

The story dealt with humanity attaining immortality by an act of cannibalism (which is eventually superseded by Science!), and the aftereffects of that.

The story is somewhat weak, but manages to include three or four storylines woven through it. It's disappointing that it had to take some classic SF characters and assholise them to a degree that makes the Ultimates look like the classic Marvel Family. Then again, some people like All-Star Batman & Robin, so maybe it would do better in the modern age.

Comments

[heron61.livejournal.com]

Years ago I decided that seeing Howard Chaykin's name associated with anything at all meant that the best policy was to strictly avoid it. He's waaay too much of a misanthrope for my tastes and his stories are generally fairly vile.

[creativedv8tion.livejournal.com]

I think more to the point the question should be, "Do I need to read this sort of story?" Myself, I rather tend to enjoy Mister Chaykin's stuff (though I'll be the first to admit not all of it is as stellar as others), but that's because a lot of his themes appeal to me. (Again, I'll also admit to sometimes having to be in the proper mood to appreciate one of his stories, where many an author I can pick up in most moods and enjoy.)

You ask, do we need, and obviously the answer is 'no'. We do not need such things. You are part of 'we', and you obviously don't need it, else you'd not be disparaging about it. ;)

[sixteenbynine.livejournal.com]

This is actually one of those questions I ask myself about my own work whenever I sit down to write something: "Who, aside from me, would be inclined to seek this out, pay money for it, and set aside the time and effort to read it and either get enjoyment out of it or dig meaning from it?"

The problem is that there are six billion other people out there, and only one of us. So in the end you have to sort of just stick your neck out and hope that someone else takes the plunge too.

I'm a fairly harsh critic of other people's work, but only because I tend to set the bar pretty high depending on what's being offered. I don't much like Chaykin's stuff myself -- he always seems to be rubbing your face in it -- but he, like me, deserves the freedom to try.

[thothmeister.livejournal.com]

Strangely Chaykin produced some good work years before (like American Flag, but he became much like Oliver Stone in film: he could no longer accept any concept being enjoyable, so no product in his hands could be either.

I think he began to lose it with Black Kiss.

[ghostwes.livejournal.com]

I have that too. Picked up all three books for about a dollar. It wasn't terrible, though I think Chaykin tried to cram too many ideas into too small a space. It felt a bit rushed.

I had no idea that the characters had appeared elsewhere... huh. Not really that familiar with old DC stuff, I guess.

[athelind.livejournal.com]

I had two problems with Twilight.

Problem The First: It came out hot on the heels of Crisis, and lacked any kind of "Elseworlds" designation. I assumed that this was going to be The New Post-Crisis Future, the new canon for these old space-opera characters, and I was horrified. This was the new shape of the DCU? Given the opportunity to start everything over from scratch, this was what the bright and cheerful future of fun had become?

We'd lost Kamandi for a fascist cannibal?

There was nothing, nothing to contradict this impression until the story got flung far enough forward that they'd passed the 30th Century -- in which, over in the DCU Mainstream, the Legion of Super-Heroes was still active -- and it was obvious that this was some parallel time.

I lost interest after that, because of Problem the Second:

This piece of shit was repulsive. Chaykin substituted shock value for substance, and tried to convince us that pissing all over these characters was a "mature, sophisticated" reinvention -- while lacking Alan Moore's singular ability to piss all over characters while still telling a compelling, engaging story.

The only interest the book had for me was the can't-look-away horror that any train wreck induces as I saw the optimistic future get twisted into something vile. Once I realized that it didn't actually have any connections to characters or settings that I cared about, I was able to walk away. I didn't succumb to the need to Complete The Series; I didn't have an overwhelming desire to Find Out The Ending.

Unfortunately, my initial impression was not entirely wrong: this tale of fondly-remembered characters portrayed as rephrehensible, without regard for the elements that made them fondly-remembered, was a preview of the Future of the DCU.

Just not the stories set in the future.