Posts Tagged ‘comic book stores’
Vault of Midnight
Over Christmas, I went to visit my brother in Michigan, so we of course stopped in at Vault of Midnight in Ann Arbor. (The store’s Facebook page is more up-to-date than the site.) I’ve mentioned Vault of Midnight previously here, but it’s worth its own post.
It reminds me a lot of a toy store with its bright interior and colorful art. Yes, they do sell quite a number of toys (usually of the vinyl/collector type, but they do have Uglydolls and such) and games (role and board), but comics are the star here.
I’d say that Vault of Midnight runs more mainstream than a lot of other comic book stores I frequent — most of the indie stuff occupies two small shelves downstairs — but they do have an impressive selection of comics and art books. The open and airy layout leads to a comfortable environment for browsing. I saw a few things I didn’t see elsewhere.
While we were there, I’d say that there were more women/girls than men/boys in the store for a bit (the store’s proximity to University of Michigan probably helps on that account) and I thought that was pretty great. The staff was friendly and attentive.
Ann Arbor may not be on your list of places to go, but if you’re nearby, check out Vault of Midnight. It’s a store I’d like to have closer.
Comic Swap
I’m in State College, Pa., for a few days because I had some time off, it was within driving distance and I had a free place to stay. Before my grad student friend left me to go teach his class, he said “The comic book store is that way.”
As much as I love the stylishness of stores like San Francisco’s Isotope and Brooklyn’s Bergen Street Comics, I love when a classic comic book store is done right. Comic Swap is just that.
While it’s in a basement, the store bright, clean and well-organized. The graphic novel shelves are the first thing you see, and they’re arranged by category and then alphabetical by title (a set-up I prefer, because I’m often more likely to remember a title than the creator). To the right is the floppies, interspersed with minicomics (some by local creators) and to the left is manga, back issues and other comic-related peripheries (role-playing games, etc.).
The store is fairly small and even though it’s not overly packed with goods, it’s obvious whoever runs this store has put a lot of thought into it. The graphic novel selection had a lot of great titles, ranging from the classics to the smaller gems. I also loved the extensive children’s section (I think every comic store needs one). I think it’s great they sell minicomics alongside the big titles from D.C. and Marvel.
The staff was friendly and my brief chat with them was great. They seem like they’re having fun.
I encouraged my friend to go there — he’s a sometimes comics reader but felt a little intimidated by the Batman and Spider-Man signs in the window. I told him he has nothing to worry about. It’s a lovely, comfortable store. I know State College is a college town, but any city would be lucky to have a place like Comic Swap.
Can we stop pretending all comic book stores are now awesome?
The most recent episode of the TV series Heroes featured a scene that seems to have upset a lot of people around the Internet. You can watch it here at Hulu and it starts about 17 minutes into the show.
If you don’t want to watch it, here’s the summary (please note that I do not watch Heroes, but I know enough about it and I did watch bits of this episode and this scene in particular):
Claire, the blond cheerleader-type, decides for various reasons to go get a job at a comic book store. Never mind she doesn’t read comics. The store owner/manager/whatever asks if she can work Wednesdays. When she doesn’t get it, he tells her that’s when new comics come out. He then asks her if she wants to fly or have invisibility. Claire is further confused and decides to leave. The manager-type says she can have the job because all the guys are looking at her and she’ll probably sell comics.
This scene was not nearly as bad as everyone made it out to be. The manager person seemed pretty patient in dealing with someone who didn’t know anything about the job she was applying for and while he was obviously nerdy, he just struck me as being a typical slightly awkward comic book guy. Maybe the line about “all the guys are looking at you” was questionable, but at the same time, maybe the manager thought it would be nice to diversify his staff a bit.
But instead everyone has decided that Heroes is making fun of their core audience and girls totally read comics and comic book stores are never ever like that. Ever.
Let me make one thing clear: I know there are a lot of amazingly cool comic book stores out there. I’ve been to a bunch of them. Isotope in San Francisco, certainly. Big Planet around here, yeah (I especially like the Georgetown one). Forbidden Planet in NYC is, of course, phenomenal. Vault of Midnight in Ann Arbor is fun. Everyone seems to adore Rocketship in Brooklyn. And a little stuffed bull really enjoyed his trip to Bergen Street Comics.
But I don’t think a handful of stores in major metropolitan areas along the coasts (and one in a liberal university town) is necessarily representative of all comic book stores.
Because for every one of these great comic book stores, there are probably dozens of comic book stores like Stories in Richmond.
One of the Stories is near my mom’s house in suburbs of Richmond. It is exactly what you think of when you think of a comic book store — tables covered with long boxes of back issues, old collectible toys hanging from the walls, dimly lit and packed full of stuff and the “adult” section a little too visible. Now, Stories is fine for what it is — it’s a comic book store and it’s not trying to be anything else. And while I never felt particularly uncomfortable going in there, it really wasn’t a place I ever felt too excited about going to, and given the choice, I’d go somewhere else.
And yes, it’s still there. It’s still like that today. Stories, to me, is much more typical of comic book stores than any of the others I mentioned above. Those are the exceptions. This is still, unfortunately, the rule.
I do feel like I should point out that the employees at the comic book store I went to as a young teenager were always really nice to me. The worst thing any of them ever said to me was to tease me about my hat and ask if I was trying to be “Blossom” (it was the ’90s, OK?). But I also remember going into comic book stores and feeling invisible and ignored. And this still happens.
Once, a year or two ago, I was in the Big Planet store in Vienna. When I first went in, there was a dad and his young son looking at Bone or some such, and then a young hipster couple looking at graphic novels. They departed and young men came in and started talking about typical comic book stuff. No one, to my knowledge, was really saying anything terrible or sexist, but I suddenly had the sense that I was an intruder in a boys’ club and I didn’t belong there. I left soon after.
And this was a store I like, a store that basically does everything right. It’s well-organized, bright and colorful and comfortable (it should be said that the Vienna store is probably the most suburban of the Big Planet stories). It was the underlying attitude of the patrons that changed that store for me.
Girls and women reading comics isn’t the novelty it used to be and I think that’s awesome. I love that. When I was teenager it did feel pretty lonely and I’m glad it doesn’t seem as lonely now. But there are still some comic book stores — and obviously, fans — that are slow to catch up with the changing times. If you thought that scene in Heroes didn’t represent reality, well, I’m glad that you see comic book stores and fans that way. But to me, even though I know there’s plenty of cool stores and cool fans, it still felt pretty accurate.
Screenshot taken from Heroes episode “Shades of Gray,” captured from Hulu.com
Oh, it’s this problem again.
Creator Tim Broderick writes about taking his daughters into the comic book store and having them not see much that appealed to them, even comics like Wolverine: First Class, which are supposedly intended for them.
I’ve been in some good comic book stores — even when I was a young teenager, I remember going into one of our local stores with my brother and the staff was always nice to me and let me feel like I belonged there. I like the casual coolness of the area’s Big Planet stores and I certainly adore the boutique vibe of Isotope Comics in San Francisco. And yes, I’ve been in some bad comic book stores — ones where I’ve been ignored because I was neither a boy (of any age) nor a mother so I didn’t register. I’ve been in your stereotypically dusty, dimly lit stores.
But this isn’t so much about comic book stores. This is about what’s in them.
I don’t tend to think of teenage girls as of one mind — I was watching The X-Files and not Dawson’s Creek as a teenage girl. Yes, maybe I would’ve been inclined to pick up Wolverine: First Class because I liked both Kitty Pryde and Wolverine. But that was me. That’s the kind of teenage girl I was. I would not say I was typical.
Quite possibly, it’s an excellent title for teenage girls (although Broderick said his daughters didn’t care for it) but as he pointed out:
Even “First Class,” supposedly written for girls and targeted to that audience, featured an aggressively-posed Wolverine – claws out with a grimace on his face – while Kitty Pryde, supposedly the narrator and main character, was secondary.
He then compares it to the cover of the book Twilight (oh, our favorite easy example of Twilight) as well as the movie cover. Both are romantic and a little mysterious. Put side by side with the cover of Wolverine: First Class, I think the choice for most teenage girls is pretty clear.
There are wonderful comics for girls out there. But if they’re not presented in an appealing way, how are teenage girls going to pick them up? (Spider-Man Loves Mary Jane seems like it did a little bit better in terms of appealing to girls. I don’t know how many girls read it, though). And this is even if you get them into the comic book store in the first place (but that’s something of another matter).