About comics ~

When I moved from my hometown, I left all my comics behind. This is probably shocking and horrifying to those of you who collect and cherish and coddle comic books. But I was moving to a place of high humidity and anyone who appreciates truly loving their comic books knows that I did what was best for them at the time, difficult though it was for me to make that decision.

So I packed up a couple of reading copies of my favorites and said goodbye to the rest of them. I visited them at Christmas most years and that was sufficient. But then I moved up north and coming home at Christmas became impractical and I began to miss my comics. I called my brother and told him to send me some ~ just a "surprise me" variety. For a while that held me. And I bought a couple here and there and was gifted some as well, but then some dark days came: I was gravely disappointed by Garth Ennis's redux of Ghost Rider (blargh ~ why, Marvel, why???), and last summer Azzarello's Loveless was a huge bust (boo!), and then I missed my comics even more because I remembered loving them and collecting them and choosing each one for its own special self from the comic boxes at the comic store (don't fergit, people, I'm old, back then there was no internet or online ordering). I missed the yellowing tape on their crinkled baggies, their stubborn little gooey orange and white price tags: .60, .80, $1.25. I knew exactly from which store each came from by their distinct packaging and pricing and by golly, i recollect buying every single dang one of them.

All this nostalgia, coupled with returning to Comic Con after some years away, made me miss my comics even more, but it finally dawned on me: I no longer live in the land of the sweat and mung. So I called my mother and told her to send my comics "home".

This past week I received three boxes of comic books. I'm still missing part of my collection, but the bulk of it has arrived. it contained a few surprises (I had no idea I had read Hellblazer for so long), and a few cringe-worthy recollections (Midnight Sons? gaggg!). But most important, among them were cherished volumes I haven't set eyes on in quite a few years and many of which I haven't read in over two decades.

I quit collecting comics during the 1990s comics bust. Hellblazer no. 87 (1995) was the last comic I made a conscious effort to buy off the stands (if I remember correctly). Interestingly, Eddie Campbell was the artist drawing the title at the time.

My collection is very small (about 300 books) and very specialized (about 5 titles), but most of it has kept its value over the years and many particular issues have continued to grow in demand. I have no idea how much my collection is worth (haven't assessed it since the 80s boom), but I'm guessing it's probably at least $1,500 without blinking (assuming much of it is generally worthless, but a handful of books tip the scales heavily). Possibly it's worth much more. Not too shabby for something I nickeled and dimed together throughout my teenage years. But I've no intention of selling any of these precious darlings, so their worth to me is really in the joy of placing them back among my embarrassingly overflowed collection of books and ephemera.

I guess I am telling you all of this as a warning. You might have to suffer endless posts about these little darlings while I reacquaint myself.