The Cyclical Cyclops: Re-Examining Uncanny X-Men #201

An in-depth re-examination of "Duel." Uncanny X-Men #201. Chris Claremont (W) and Rick Leonardi (A). 1986.





One of the 80s X-Men's most pivotal issues, "Duel" is one of several watershed moments in the transition from Claremont's first iteration of X-Men into the hardline, rebellious group that would populate the "Outback Era". The eponymous "Duel" refers to a match between a de-powered Storm and new father Cyclops (aka Scott Summers), competing for the leadership of the X-Men. Storm's victory would set the X-Men on a new, era-defining path, which lends the issue itself to be read as a Storm-centric, 'feat' issue. I want to offer up an alternative reading, as this issue isn't actually about Storm at all. Rather it comments, primarily, on two things: Cyclops' character and the unescapable, cyclical nature of superhero genre comic-books.

Despite being a cover star, Storm, in this story, is not her own champion. She isn't really overcoming the masculine incumbent to finally probe herself worthy, as she already has the support of the team (Logan, particularly) and faces no significant obstacle to overcome. Her journey towards leadership, her exam, was the preceding issues. "Duel" is more so her graduation, where she is formally recognised for her previous success, and her ascendance to leadership has a real essence of inevitability. The story then becomes not a story of "Who will lead them?" but how can Cyclops cope with the realisation that he has become obsolete. Storm, instead of operating as her own champion, is the champion for Madelyne Pryor- Cyclops' scorned wife and mother of his child- and, further, a representation of the X-Men's (both team and franchise) ability to survive without Cyclops. Storm is the Claremont-driven future, confronting Cyclops, one of the final handovers from the Lee/Kirby original conception. Cyclops has proven inattentive to his wife and newborn son and Madelyne, as civilian, cannot challenge Cyclops' absence in the way that superheroic Storm can. Storm steps up as a defender of the innocent, because she has gone through her own journey to do so, but this is not a significant action for her character.





Tension comes from all sides, as Storm has been making herself a viable presence, despite her loss of powers, in the preceding issues, and Cyclops' peaceful retirement has been interrupted by repeated super-heroics. Not only does the return of Cyclops create tension for his civilian wife, but with the stories own writer as well. Chris Claremont's plotting here reeks of frustration; editorial mandate ensured that he could not effectively retire Cyclops from the X-Men, as per his original intent and, with the launch of Cyclops-starring X-Factor, logical development for Cyclops' character was jettisoned in favour for a return to the status quo. The problem posed for Cyclops in "Duel" is that he has never learned how to relate to the X-Men outside of a micro-managing, obsessive leadership role, his single eye representing his singular vision for how the X-Men can reach their goals. When this issue challenges that, it should have been a moment of reflection and change, one which the character could grow from. Yet what we saw instead was the instantaneous return of the character to a leadership role; one that would remain mostly unchallenged for twenty-five years. The tone is never sympathetic to Storm, her victory is sombre and focused entirely on her opponent, and I'd argue that this is because Claremont never meant it to read as a cheer-able moment. Storm's silence allows Scott's mind-space and we are given a final opportunity to read Cyclops as the issue's tragic main character.





The Cyclops we see in "Duel" may be a sad figure, but he's not an unsympathetic one. If there is a main character here, it is him. Rather than documenting Storm's thunderous triumph, Claremont walks us through Cyclops' total defeat. And it is a defeat. Retroactive continuity, attempting to make the character a more clear-cut superhero again, transformed his loss in "Duel" to be a product of psychic interference on behalf of Madelyne (who was also retroactively transformed into an unknowing clone of Jean Grey), but even the original shows that he loses because of her. Only, in the original, his defeat comes from distraction, confusion and self-loathing. Cyclops defeat of himself is more prevalent than Madelyne's psychic interference or Storm's competence ever could be. That isn't to detract from Storm's ascension to leadership but, as mentioned previously, she earned that well before this issue took place. This particular story documents not an even match, but a loss.

So, I do think that we are supposed to sympathise with Cyclops in this issue, only we cannot do so from rigid moral perspectives. His conflict is reprehensible, he is prioritising his own identity anxieties over the welfare of his infant son, yet he remains still relatable. He acts selfishly, not inhumanly, and, whilst on the surface level the character can come across as a deadbeat dad, that is not wherein the tragedy lies. Rather the tragedy comes from Claremont's criticism of the cyclical, repetitive superhero comic book, the book which always returns to the status quo.

Storm's victory is telegraphed early on in the issue- she wins by removing his visor, leaving him incapable of controlling his powers, and earlier on we see Cyclops requires focus to manage his visor; a focus he did not have because of his conflicting feelings about Madelyne, his baby and the X-Men. The use of the superhero icon of the costume reiterates thematic qualities in the story, such as Cyclops' inability to comprehend a life outside the X-Men; not once does he remove it in this story. Even when arguing with Madelyne, all he can do is pull back his hood. Even in domestic affairs, Scott Summers can never truly detach himself from his X-Men identity.





And it is here that the tragic reality of Cyclops is exposed. The Cyclops we see here is somewhat of a nowhere man- he has graduated into civilian life, yet, because of the nature of the medium, he finds himself incapable of leaving the X-Men. He can dream of a normal life, but he must also destroy it, lest he truly find happiness and remove himself from the superhero genre altogether.

We see a theme of parenthood and legacy prevalent in this issue, interrogated not only through Cyclops, but Xavier also (Rachel Summers feeds into this theme, also). Cyclops is derided for his lack of commitment to his family, his son particularly, yet his father figure has also recently abandoned him. Claremont makes a point of reminding the audience this, so we can read the Cyclops of "Duel" as a product of Xavier's questionable parenting. Cyclops has never been able to define himself outside of the team, becoming institutionalised, and Maddie herself calls Cyclops out for having no skills to support a family. In his Astonishing X-Men run, Joss Whedon also touches on one of the recurring traits of Cyclops as a character- outside of leading the X-Men, Cyclops has nothing else. As an orphan, groomed and educated for a single purpose by Charles Xavier, Cyclops is totally lost when the structures and rules of his world start to fall apart. Feelings of trepidation in the face of giant monsters or battles in space pale in comparison to his feelings of abandonment.

He had dedicated his life to the X-Men, who now no longer need him the way they once did, and absent father Xavier has no advice to give to Cyclops at this moment. I read this as a demonstration that the key conflict of "Duel" is, not between two superheroes, but between two families- namely Scott's X-Men family and his family with Madelyne.





Claremont has Cyclops act as unwitting commentary on the failings of attempting to tell exciting, emergent stories in a medium and genre that relies on tedious, nostalgic revisiting. Cyclops' refusal to grow up and learn to define himself outside of the X-Men, his core emotional conflict of the issue, reads as commentary on a format that itself refuses to grow up and define itself outside of the trite framework it has found itself embroiled in. Claremont takes an artefact of the medium which he has no control over, the inevitable return of Cyclops to the X-Men, and crafts it in such a way that is has emotional relevance, narrative meaning and contributes to a greater understanding of the character. Before #201, you could see that Cyclops had less of a life outside of the X-Men than his counter-parts, but this is the issue that solidified a Cyclops who didn't know how to exist outside of leading a team. It would define characterisations of Cyclops for decades to come.





I do not feel that "Duel" can be read as a Storm-centric issue, because it just isn't one. It does the story itself so little justice to be relegated to a footnote on a 'Who Could Beat Storm In A Fight?' piece. The issue also shouldn't be used as evidence for some imagined Claremont hatred for Cyclops, for it truly shows Cyclops at his most complex and, in a meta sense, profound. Cyclops is used as a narrative tool to examine the genre and franchise- signifying the forthcoming era change, whilst also reflecting back on the mind-set that insists on constantly bringing him back.

"Duel" is about a Cyclops loss. In fact, it is about many Cyclops losses. This is arguably the character's lowest point, but Claremont's final deconstruction of the character is one of his most meaningful and significant issues for Cyclops characterisation. More than just being about Cyclops though, the issue is apt criticism of the failings of the format itself. It is telling that Claremont's first tenure on the book ended with Cyclops restored to his leadership role, with marriage to Madelyne dissolved and no baby son to look after. The status quo, and sanctity of the genre, will persist, no matter which character stands in the way.





It is worth noting that Claremont utilises Storm specifically to remove Cyclops from the franchise's flagship book, despite having, at one point, intended to push these characters into a relationship together. Such a couple is now unimaginable and, arguably, our incapacity to imagine such a relationship derives from misreading this very issue. The perception that it is Cyclops who stands as a barrier to Storm's leadership and independence has formulated an undeniable antagonism between the two, one which has persisted in how these two have been characterised through Cyclops' (most recent) death. This may also go some way to explain the frothing, vitriolic hatred that dedicated Storm fans and dedicated Cyclops fans seem to have for each other.

Solidarity with the Bug: Starship Troopers and its Anti-Fascist Arachnids

Starship Troopers, Paul Verhoeven's 1997 military satire, has gone through a reappraisal in recent years. Originally, the film's anti-fascist perspective was lost on critics and casual audiences that took the characters, action and nationalist imagery at face value. Now, the film is no longer being read as one-dimensional, derivative science-fiction, perhaps due to the inexplicable rise of contemporary Western nationalistic rhetoric and a disillusionment with news media similar to that which the film depicts. Yet, I personally feel that revisitations of this genre classic have yet to go far enough; the film, misjudged on release, has over 20 years of study to catch up on.

I want to focus on one particular element of the film that stood out to me; its villains. While bathing in the glory of fascistic militarism, the villainous "bugs" are presented as a total, universal evil. Yet, if our characters are not to be trusted, neither can we trust their presentation of the enemy. The arachnids, or often just the bugs, are the malevolent, interstellar force that form the antagonists to the film's interpretation of humanity; an overtly nationalistic, fascistic military society wherein which there is a clear distinction between Civilian and Citizen. Citizenship is socially revered, its benefits promising a better life with better opportunities (such as rights to vote, run for office or even procreate) than the average Civilian, and can be obtained through service with the Armed Services, particularly in the Mobile Infantry. The film's final dictation, that "Service Guarantees Citizenship", is a reminder of the totalitarian ideology Verhoeven is mocking, but also has wider implications when relating to the bugs. It is the enemy, the fear of an (intergalactic) Other, who holds up these everyday workings of totalitarian society. Understanding this, we can highlight the nuances and moral complexity that is imbued within the film's conflict, despite it seeming simplistic on the surface-level.

If the bugs are, then, a manifestation of fascist societies' need for a unifying common enemy, the propaganda shown in the film does not merely misinform with regards to the lives of soldiers, but deliberately misinforms on their enemy also. The film offers rare moments to sympathise with the bugs, yet they are present. A shot of a wounded bugs eye, or the admission that the bugs can feel fear, make momentary subversion to the gratuitous action sequences and anti-bug propaganda films splattered through the rest of the film. The satire has previously been read as the mere depiction of the enemies of fascism in the way fascism itself depicts them- that the enemy is a mindless killing machine, in no way resembling the human form, is a critique of the dehumanising way fascists depict foreign hordes as barbarians, roaches or swarms. The bug is a fantasy, the ultimate enemy for the hawkish fascist, because its lack of any human quality yields no guilt or empathy that could potentially remove the joy of murder and conquest. So, when we are shown unwavering opposition to the bugs in the film's narrative, we think little of it. They are, after all, vicious alien beasts in a sci-fi action movie. One doesn't stop to question if Ripley was right to kill the Xenomorph.

However, the film provides plenty of hints that the bugs may, in fact, be the victims of the story, or at least justified in their retaliatory actions. The humans are strongly suggested to have been the first to encroach on bug territory, with a wayward Mormon sect (why specifically Mormon? Still figuring that one out...) establishing a base on an occupied planet. An inciting incident for the film, the bug attack destroying our protagonist's home city, then, can be one of two things; a justified retaliation against invasion or not an attack by bugs at all. The film's propaganda tells us that the bugs send meteor attacks against Earth and its colonies, with some caveats. For example, the Earth's security defence is clearly stated to be advanced enough to destroy incoming meteors. Is the successful bug attack then signalling that the propaganda was exaggerating the technological capabilities of the Earth's defence system, or was the meteor allowed to hit, for the very reason of justifying further military action? As we have set out, humanity's fascist society sustains itself based on the fear of this inhuman Other. The audience is also asked to believe that bugs can control the trajectory of meteors, whilst at the same time watching "televised" debates over whether the bugs are capable of intelligence. One panellist suggests that he finds the idea of intelligent bugs "offensive", yet it goes unchallenged that the bugs are affecting meteor trajectory from the other side of the galaxy. So, are the bugs unintelligent and therefore incapable of the attacks on humanity, or organising intergalactic attacks on humanity and therefore capable of intelligence?

The ambiguity tells all- the conditions of the destruction of Buenos Aries are unclear, yet decisive action, full-scale invasion of the planet Klendathu, is taken regardless. This action leads to military disaster, mutilation, and death. The gore works in the film's favour, ensuring that this horror, while gratuitous, never feels noble or heroic. Deaths just feel like a waste and that waste of human life is borne out of an enemy construct that may be based entirely off of lies.

As the film develops, we discover that the bugs are capable of intelligence, or at least one "brain bug" is, but more than just intelligence, we learn that it is capable of emotion. The great victory for humanity is the capture of the "brain bug" and discovering that, when faced with human beings, it feels fear. This is a creature that absorbed the brains of its human victims, therefore possessing intimate knowledge of the species; what it understands is that it will face no mercy nor justice and the humans salivate at its fear. The "brain bug", which is physically useless and relies on its drones to sustain it, delivers the final condemnation for fascist humanity. There is no peace to be found between human and bug, no common ground, no need for mutual understanding- there is only the fascist world order and the war that sustains it.

As such, humanity not only sustains itself through manufacturing the enemy but uses that enemy to seek total species-based domination. A government figure early in the film makes this much clear, declaring the intent for human civilisation, not insect, to dominate the galaxy. If that wasn't clear enough, we are shown high-ranking military officials outfitted in pastiche Nazi uniforms. Fascism is unescapable in this film. Perhaps, this goes some way to explaining why this film has been embraced by the nationalist and the anti-imperialist alike; for every audience member laughing at the film's Mobile Infantry, there is another cheering alongside them in the same inebriated furor. Does depicting an enemy of fascism, in the very way that fascism wants their enemies to be, then dilute any satirical, critical point to be made? The nationalists will continue to get their hyper-masculine kicks out of Starship Troopers, would it be the same if those were human limbs, and not insect ones, that were splattered against their screens?

The villain of the piece is clearly fascist ideology over the bugs themselves, but most readings tend to view the vapid, yet human, youths who get caught up in the cyclical conflict as its focal victims. Is it not the bugs though- the bugs who never sought out conflict, never invaded occupied planets, who were considered unfeeling and unintelligent even when the evidence pointed otherwise and who may not have even committed the crimes they are accused of- who suffer most? At the very least, it is clear to me that we cannot read the bugs as merely the one-dimensional villains the film portrays them as, because the film also portrays one-dimensional heroes who are signed up to a fascist regime. The only clear approach to this conflict may be critical support for the revolutionary vanguard that is the anti-imperialist Klendathu arachnids.





The views expressed in this post are, in no small part, influenced by my own exposure to nationalism, war and the media in the years following the film's 1997 release. That I find myself rooting for the "enemy" of the piece may be more of a reflection on the Invasion of Iraq than on the Invasion of Klendathu.

The "Wedding of the Century" Is Stagnation, Disguised As Progress

The torrid relationship between X-Men franchise mainstays Kitty Pryde and Colossus, promises to reach its climax in this Summer's "Wedding of the Century". Thus Marvel responds to DC's marriage of their forefront franchise icons, Batman and Catwoman; and even as a franchise devotee, this is underwhelming. Partially because of character status, as Colossus and Kitty Pryde are not as culturally ingrained as the Bat-Family of comic books have been, but also because of a cold, dispassionate drive towards this much hyped marriage. What we are seeing with the wedding is a microcosm of not merely the X-Men: Gold series' wider problems, but of Marvel Comics' as well; with initiatives such as ResurreXion, Legacy and Fresh Start, stagnation is being sold either as progress, or in place of it.

The Most Beloved Marvel Weddings! *Not Pictured: Kitty Pryde and Colossus.

X-Men: Gold, launched by Marc Guggenheim and Ardian Syaf last year, has promised to push the franchise in new directions, whilst looking back and staying true to its identity; with Guggenheim stating, "...our mission statement for the book, which is going backwards to go forward.". It's a nice sentiment, but upon reading the book, you realise that sentiment is all that it is. This isn't of particular news, the comic book format itself demands this kind of nostalgic, cyclical storytelling, but what we can see when reading Gold is that nostalgic revisitations of status quo don't only have narrative implications, but ideological ones also. That Marc Guggenheim has written this story by looking back on the franchise's history, uncritically, he has represented an inherently flawed relationship with a white-washing perspective. 

Gold has taken rebuilding the Colossus/Kitty Pryde relationship as one of its primary concerns; our last sight of these characters had them as far away from each other as they had ever been. Kitty was in fact engaged to another Peter (Peter Quill, of the Guardians of the Galaxy) and Colossus was engaging in an exciting relationship with Deadpool 2's breakout character Domino. Kitty was in space during the last flagship X-Book and Colossus was possessed by a future-timeline-Apocalypse (it really is best not to ask). The line preceding the launch of Gold (part of the ResurreXion initiative, which relaunched nearly all ongoing X-Books) is widely considered one of the worst times to have been a fan of the franchise, as the build-up to the Inhumans Vs X-Men crossover event was mired with the jettisoning, mischaracterisation and killing of fan-favourite characters. The tone was one of hopelessness, so Gold and ResurreXion aimed to move away from this status quo as swiftly as possible. Kitty Pryde, and her nostalgic return to her relationship with Colossus, is emblematic of a wider shift back to a safer, more audience-friendly status quo. 

The concern with the return is that it has not been a mere revisitation of stories and characters gone by, but it is a rerun of a relationship that was a categoric failure. The heart-rending break-ups and the extremely violent jealousy are mere prelude to the crux of the relationship, first laid out by writer Chris Claremont; the age gap between these two young people. Whilst ages in comic books are rarely specific, we know one thing for certain- Kitty Pryde was underage when she and Colossus first pursued a relationship. Writers following up on the relationship miss out on why the relationship needed to end messily; not only was it two hormonal, young people ill-equipped to navigate interpersonal relationships but there is a pretty clear ethical concern in depicting the flawed, complicated, morally-questionable entanglement of these characters as a generic love story. Writers such as Guggenheim re-characterise incidents with questionable power dynamics (most notably, "Merry Christmas Sexy" from Uncanny X-Men #143) as part of a retroactive, overarching love story by revisiting them. The first iteration of their relationship is innocent enough, it is a 13 year-old with a crush on an 18 year-old who doesn't quite understand how to deal with the situation. It's cute watching a hyper-masculine superhero blush. It's less cute when they are 14 years-old and 19 years-old and a decision is made to see the relationship to more serious stages. The quite predatory nature is not merely looked over, but incidents where it is made apparent are romanticised.

And these problematic, nostalgic returns are seen across the board with Marvel's white-washing brand initiatives. Sam Wilson's Captain America has been cut out in favour of the original in Legacy, with the 14 year-old black MiT student IronHeart pushed away for the original Iron Man and Jane Foster's Thor giving away to Thor Odinson in the lead-up to Fresh Start. Diversity may not be being pushed entirely out of Marvel's books, but it is being again relegated to side-stories and more obscure parts of the Marvel Universe. Gone are the days of non-white, male lead flagship titles.

Yes, it really does matter.

Guggenheim is not the first to revisit the relationship, nor the first to revisit it with a white-washing perspective. Much of the complaints that can be levied towards Gold's interpretation of the relationship can also be levied at Joss Whedon's popular run on Astonishing X-Men, which also brought back the relationship, with an uncritical lens, amidst a plethora of character baggage. Whedon, however, was working through a particularly different context. The status of the Kitty/Colossus relationship before Guggenheim was definitive, they were broken up and it had ended badly. Whilst they reconciled as friends, writers such as Jason Aaron and Brian Michael Bendis had made clear that a relationship between the two would amount to nothing more than repetitive, unfortunate reruns. Arguably, they have yet to be proven wrong. Similarly, the couple were separated before Whedon's run, but with the caveat that Colossus was previously dead for several years (he got better) and Kitty had been in a state of disuse for almost as long as that. Whedon didn't need to naturally foster the re-relationship and any accusation of white-washing could be attributed to the elating effect of having a loved one return from the grave. 

There are then many similarities in the conceptual approaches towards the franchise employed by Whedon and Guggenheim- both desired a return to an iconic, unfulfilled romance of their youth alongside the return of conventional superheroic tropes and icons (notably, the colourful costumes). In Gold though, this nostalgic storytelling is having a more dangerous effect than merely returning a superhero franchise to its glory days, the wedding has become a regressive narrative point. Guised in Guggenheim's performative, lightweight feminism, we have seen the Kitty Pryde approach to both leadership and the marriage.

Below we can see a recent problematic incident from X-Men: Gold #27. It may seem innocuous, but in Guggenheim's desperate attempt to show Kitty off as a strong, modern woman, he obliterates her Jewish heritage and identity. In Jewish weddings it is customary for both parents to accompany their child down the aisle, so this whole interaction is pointless, serving only to imbue Kitty's mother with some internalised sexism for her daughter to dispel.

Walking 15 feet? It's a man's job.

Guggenheim's unsatisfying strand of feminism (which has seen him declare that "reverse sexism isn't the answer") is actually impeding diverse stories, evidenced not only by the removal of Jewishness from the upcoming ceremony but from the fact that a character, so long associated with bisexuality, is being subjected to a hetero-wedding. As every year passes, and another writer adds another Peter to Kitty's romantic history, this important character detail is procedurally whittled away; I think very few people even acknowledge her as a bisexual character anymore, let alone one of the X-Men franchise's most prominent ones. So, in these reminiscent relaunch initiatives characters are not just removing the questionable character contexts of characters, but also removing deviant character identity, a potential plea to conservative audiences who no longer see themselves in works that increasingly represent the diverse, real world. 

Yet, there is at least a surface-level refusal to fully capitulate to the alt-right commentators who want to see Captain America fight ISIS under the orders of President Donald Trump; evidenced by some enduring legacy characters and a commitment to telling stories with female characters at the forefront. It is these focal women who stir up further criticism though and, as we've discussed Guggenheim's lacklustre approach to feminist politics, the development of 'strong Marvel women' tropes may be impeding wider moves towards progressive storytelling.

Similar to her determination to score progressive points by making a show of having her mother escort her at the wedding, Kitty Pryde is shown to be the one proposing to Colossus. This is bold, determined and shows she's a character who takes her personal life into her own hands, unguided by anyone else. In fact, her proposal panel is widely recreated, constituting promotional imagery and the cover to #26. One, tiny gripe. Kitty didn't make this decision. Colossus brings it up, before their relationship has truly reformed, in #9. It is provided as the way to move their relationship forwards, despite neither character seeming to be learning or evolving from their past experiences. Here, we see one of the tropes to these new strong Marvel woman; they possess and present their own agency, after male approval.

Nothing gets the fires of romance stirring quite like the noise of construction work.

This is seen beyond Gold's wedding storyline, in characters such as the revamped Captain Marvel and notable SHIELD figure Maria Hill. Captain Marvel, who has existed previously as Ms Marvel, Binary and Warbird, has been redistributed as the strong, modern woman, by taking the suit, name and qualities of her male predecessor. In a more meta sense, Maria Hill's rise to Director of SHIELD was similarly based on male mentor figures and employing attributes of masculinity. Hill's directorship of SHIELD resembles Captain Marvel's directorship of Alpha Flight which resembles Kitty Pryde's premiership over the X-Men and, at the moments of their transformation into the modern Marvel woman, these three characters all conspicuously exhibit similar pixie cuts.

There is, of course, nothing explicitly offensive about the haircut. Yet, when it perennially appears for Marvel's "strong" women there is a sense that women can only achieve positions of power when taking on masculine qualities. Captain Marvel has been criticised for being depicted as increasingly less feminine, and whilst these comments arise from more lecherous readers who want Captain Marvel to exist primarily as a sex symbol, this criticism does shine a light on this emerging trope. Short-haired, unfeminine, white women in positions of authority are the main thrust of Marvel's 'wokeness', impeding diverse representation and limiting the narrative potential of its female characters. It's worth noting that the first character to take up the Captain Marvel mantle, after the original, was a black woman who is nowhere to be found in current publication. 

A haircut doesn't constitute character progression. From Left to Right: Captain Marvel, Maria Hill and Kitty Pryde.

So, what we seem to have is Guggenheim relying on the trope of marriage for serial narratives. From comic books to soap operas, we see that works which resemble pulp fictions often revert to the same plot points when a shock or signal of development is needed. Murders, a secret affair or a wedding tend to be the most prolific, often with them all converging (perhaps on a Christmas special). The wedding here serves as a cheap way for Guggenheim to leave his mark on the franchise; people won't be able to hand-wave away his work on the franchise as easily as he did the work of those who preceded him. But with Marvel's need to capitalise on a big narrative moment such as this, the inevitable tie-in (X-Men: The Wedding Special) has actually allowed us to see other writers attempt to reconcile this troublesome pairing.

Chris Claremont, Marc Guggenheim and Kelly Thompson each wrote a story for the Wedding Special, but with Claremont and Thompson's stories we see a nuanced character focus that attempts to push Kitty's mind-space forwards- beyond the 'strong female' caricature Gold has portrayed her as. Thompson gives her some pre-commitment anxiety, with nods to her bisexuality, whilst Claremont gives her resolution with the deceased men of her life and a Doctorate. Rather than showing marriage as a prosaic marker of character and relationship progression, these writers utilise the wedding as a point from which to derive further, deeper character drama. Whilst mired by the circumstances surrounding it, the Wedding Special is genuinely enjoyable, with a solid emotional grounding. It is beyond the scope of this post to question why this intelligent writing has not been able to manifest within the main storyline itself, but it is interesting food for thought nonetheless.

Piotr evidently had this suit tailored specifically for his metal form. I just want to know why.

There is a lot of narrative potential to this coupling because of its flawed nature. Whilst this has been glossed over, the potential for the wedding is there. With the upcoming return of Wolverine, he has the perfect chance to make a creepy cameo appearance like when Cyclops and Jean Grey married, for example. More than that though, the virulent relationship could really bubble to the forefront. Confrontations could emerge, finally exposing Colossus for his shameful role in arguably grooming a 14 year-old girl or declaring that childhood crushes are inappropriate places to form long-lasting relationships. There could be conflict between Colossus' over-dominance and Kitty's newfound responsibilities, or the moral journey both have been through in recent years. The wedding itself has a unique opportunity to deconstruct one of Marvel Comic's most beloved yet troublesome relationships.

However, it seems most likely that the "Wedding of the Century" will be yet another point of stagnation for Marvel Comics. We are constantly promised a world that reflects our own, that lives and grows in the way our lives do, but that world remains hopelessly cyclical. Characters retread beats they had moved past, act without the context of their own histories and are forced to lose defining attributes of their identity. Perhaps it is a question of format. Perhaps the cycle can never truly be broken. If this is the case, studies of the comic book medium will have to acknowledge that no matter the counter-cultural influences on superhero storytelling, a conservative mindset is always waiting off-panel for its return.

For the wedding issue itself, there is clearly room for subversion. A bait-and-switch wedding could be the exact kind of twist Gold needs to shake-up its storytelling rut, but even if this becomes the case, the journey has been rife with such nostalgic storytelling that even a collapse of the couple could pave no new path for the franchise.

A Brief Personal Update

So, after taking a writing break to complete my undergraduate degree, I'm finally coming back to this blog. Hopefully posts will be just as frequent as before, but with more variation, more focus and more of a critical edge. It hurt to be away from more personal, enjoyable writing, so hopefully my final grade reflects that sacrifice. Fingers crossed.

I really want to realise my original intentions for this blog, to address culture at large, and not have it be of single interest/single purpose. I will continue to write about comic books (particularly X-Men ones), but I want it to be part of a wider study of the superhero genre, rather than just evaluating my own personal enjoyment. The Hindsight piece is the kind of model I'm looking at for these kinds of posts. Not entirely academic, but not completely casual either.

So, the gates are open. More posts should follow.

Hindsight in Hindsight.

Spoilers for Generation X (2017) follow.


With #87, Christina Strain completed her 12 issue run on Generation X (2017). Within those pages Strain, Amilcar Pinna and Felipe Sobreiro, told a spin-off mutant story of the losers of the Xavier institute. While there were many great moments, featuring both the original Generation X (1994) class and the younger class, I want to focus on one loser in particular.

Nathaniel Carver aka Hindsight.


Hindsight was a completely new addition to the series, a half-Korean mutant with "psychometry", the ability to read minds via touch. In many ways he is a riff on mutant angst that has gone before, the burden of knowing people's every thought, like with characters such as Professor Xavier or Jean Grey, and the isolating pain of a the inability to touch, such as Rogue, but what made this character so successful was how he was created explicitly for this series, and you could feel it.

Hindsight, who doesn't get that name until the finale issue, is used to give quick backstory with his convenient psychometric powers; a touch by him to another character allows the book an excuse to expose character backstory- usually in page spreads that make reference to significant moments in that character's comic book history. This implementation of powers was a smart choice, allowing longtime fans to be spared tenuous explanations of what they already know, whilst allowing a newer reader to quickly get up to speed. It also worked to develop a world outside of what we see in the series. Generation X is a book with limited scope, it is only really interested in one class of mutants in an entire mutant school, but these spreads and references to moments in comic book history serve as a way to bridge the series into the wider works with which it participates.

Perhaps, the most notable use of Hindsight's psychometry is the function he performs in the series finale, being an integral element of how the series' main villain is brought down. Monet St. Croix, who also goes by M, was a member of the original Generation X cast but has been possessed by her power-stealing brother Emplate, one of the original Generation X's most significant villains, since Cullen Bunn's Uncanny X-Men (2016). Monet's struggle with a possessing force is brought to its conclusion with Hindsights powers at the forefront; his psychometry being stolen by Monet allows her friends and old classmates to exorcise said possessing force with some nostalgia-ridden, emotionally rendered flashbacks. It's a humanising scene that reiterates the bonds of these characters and helps ground the new Generation X with the classic series. It is only able to manifest though because of Hindsight, reaffirming how much of a central character in this story he was.

Generation X #87 By Christina Strain, Amilcar Pinna and Felipe Sobreiro.

This charming, well-rounded character is only benefitted by a second reading; we can reflect on his original more stoic, detached behaviour knowing that he opens up later on in the series. He's initially a lot more trepidatious when it comes to viewing other people's memories, mainly doing so by accident, becoming more comfortable with his mutancy as the series goes on. There is clear character growth in his narrative, developing perhaps better than any other member of the cast, as Nathaniel learns not only to embrace his psychometric powers, but also to embrace the trust and affections of classmate Benjamin Deeds.



Generation X #86 By Christina Strain, Amilcar Pinna and Felipe Sobreiro.


His narrative throughout the series is never one of 'coming out', Nathaniel is gay and that's just how the character is. His comfort in sexual identity goes to show the maturity and care put in by his creators that his relationship is simultaneously important to his development and inessential, alongside building the Xavier institute up as an explicitly tolerant space for mutant youth of all backgrounds- a far cry from Weir and Defilippis' scrapped gay suicide plot from New Mutants (2003). Generation X doesn't give us a critical, emotional presentation of what it's like to be young and gay, it just shows us young mutants messily navigating romance (with people of the same gender). This is really where the series shined, mutant angst hasn't been so good in a while and the moment where Hindsight finally lets Benjamin Deeds in we get a kiss sequence unlike anything else in comic books.



Generation X #87 By Christina Strain, Amilcar Pinna and Felipe Sobreiro.

Thinking about the future though, I must admit that I'm concerned for Hindsight. As previously stated, he is a character who explicitly works within the context of Generation X; certainly the character can work outside the book, but will he? He can never join the ranks of a premiere superhero team, he isn't flashy or aggressive enough, and this would leave him relegated to B-Plots and cameos at best, given that a particularly weird book like Generation X doesn't manifest again. In light of this, we get the sense that Hindsight is really a once in a generation kind of character. Even if he never reaches the big leagues or the silver screen, Strain has constructed a timely, emotionally resonant mutant who embodies all the best qualities of Generation X.

Reflections on "This Week In X-Books"

For just over a month, I had committed to a weekly round-up of the X-Men-related comic books released by Marvel. Now I want to take a moment to reflect on how I feel that went, as I'm now at a crossroads; asking myself the question of whether to continue with that approach to posts or not.

I think, quite clearly I do not. There was a lot of good that came from that structure and I feel that I definitely improved as each week went by. Amongst other things, adding appropriate credits and reaching more interesting conclusions about the texts I was examining were things that I found myself really coming to terms with, but I can't help but feel that this structure was a failure of what I wanted this blog to be. These quickly became reviews, rather than analyses, and, while there is a fine line between the two, I want a consistent blog identity that aligns with my interests. Particularly, I am interested in the intersection between the cultural and the political. Reviews rarely give me the opportunity to delve into the ideologies and discourses surrounding these texts, partially due to how little content is in each issue, but also because I end up examining multiple issues, from different series', spanning characters and genres, in one sitting. I end up looking at how comic book issues work as individual entities, not looking into the wider culture around them or indulging in any deeper form of commentary.

A lot of my ambivalence towards continuing these kinds of posts comes down to turning this whole project into something I feel like I can proudly share across social media and to my peers. Reviews of niche media is not something I think would interest most people in my networks, but posts with more rigour and exciting commentary on contemporary culture should. It may not, but, at the very least, that is the kind of writing I'd like to be seen doing. That isn't to say I dislike commenting on "niche media", rather I want to do so in a different way. Writing pieces that are fewer in number, but of higher quality, should also allow myself to build up a broad portfolio of written work. The blog, in its current form, is currently nothing more than a sample of my writing style.

No doubt the most significant positive thing these weekly posts did for my blog was creating a consistent flow of content, so, with how I move forwards, I'll be considering how a minimum one post a week system has benefitted the state of this blog. I may simply move X-Books of the week down to a singular Book or I may force myself to work on something new and exciting on a weekly basis. I can imagine myself still doing the occasional review post, but I want the main drawing point of this project to be draped in cultural studies.


Those five "This Week In X-Books" posts show development in how I write and construct posts, but it is development in the wrong direction. While I may not completely abandon that format, I want to put more time and effort into creating higher quality pieces that I am more willing to share.


This post could be taken as a commentary on the state of X-Books released this week. 

This Week In X-Books - 07/02/2018

You will notice certain books feature different credits than I usually bother to include. All creatives involved are valuable and worthy of credit or discussion, but, for the purposes of this blog, such information is extraneous. I feature the creatives whose contributions I discuss specifically. 


A particularly pleasing week, with a very tough decision to elect one title above the others. Whilst there is still some clear problems at an editorial level, individual creative teams are providing some really sound X-Titles.

Obligatory Mention: Iceman #10

Written by Sina Grace. Art by Robert Gill.

Iceman has been in a weird place ever since entering the 'Legacy' initiative at issue 6. 

Grace has tried to link things up in a meaningful way, giving Daken and Iceman's new students significant panel time, building up to the confrontation of this issue, but it has never felt quite as compelling or meaningful as those first five issues did.

This is a fine issue, but the same things that brought the previous issue down remain here. The dialogue seems wrong, the tone seems off and the pay-off of previously established concepts and characters just isn't compelling. These problems are much fewer, but still make themselves clear.

Iceman has been an important, exciting series, but it really feels like it has run out of purpose and steam. It sets up a good concept for next month's finale issue, but that issue feels like it comes 6 months too late.

3. X-Men Gold #21

Written by Marc Guggenheim. Art by Diego Bernard. 

Gold, I now realise, must be appreciated for what it is. This book has never intended to change worlds or views, never intended to be anything more than an homage to days gone by, but in that stagnation, there is enjoyment to be found. This is not an issue to blow people's minds or one to convert them into enjoying Gold, but it is a perfectly functional superhero romp.

Light character and continuity gripes aside, Guggenheim manages to successfully, retroactively, make the earlier incarnation of the Brotherhood more compelling. It makes you wonder if the opening arc should have been two issues longer, so as to further address the deeper character back-story and conflict that we finally see here, but part of the appeal of Gold has been how quickly it has burned through its stories. Further explanation of the new Brotherhood, particularly dealing with their relationship towards long-term antagonist Nance, was much welcome. The inclusion of Magma, following up on that first story, was also a very good idea here. I think it would be quite smart to include her on the main Gold roster going forwards; she's a more excitingly obscure character than Guggenheim's other picks and has already been given some interesting development.

Rachel has been getting some consistent development throughout this title, which has been really enjoyable, but I think we have a significant turning point in this issue that isn't done right by. Rachel gets a new costume and what may be a new outlook on life to coincide with a power boost, this didn't necessarily need more time, rather the reflection we got wasn't as meaningful as it needed to be. The Kurt/Rachel relationship also still leaves a lot to be desired.

With Old Man Logan leaving the team (in an oddly understated sequence), we seem to be moving into what feels like a team with more of a personal touch by Guggenheim. It is still harkening back to classic paradigms, but without Logan clouding the action, future stories can address the characters Guggenheim actually wants to develop. I would usually take issue with how Logan's departure held no consequence or resonated with any other character, but his very status as an alternate version of a known entity means a reader just can't bring themselves to be attached to them and, thus, it doesn't hurt the story when someone like Kitty doesn't seem to care about his leaving either.

Decent art by Bernard rounds off this opening to the build-up to Marvel's "Wedding of the Century", reconciling Kitty's haircut into something much more tolerable and giving this classic, unchallenging story a classic, unchallenging art style. Complaints can certainly be made (it never does feel that Guggenheim has done his homework or learned from his contemporaries), but this issue was just pleasing.

If you can stop worrying, and learn to love (/tolerate) it.

2. X-Men Red #1

Written by Tom Taylor. Art by Mahmud Asrar. 

It was tough deciding between this and my number 1 pick, Rogue and Gambit #2. Both are of extreme quality, but I think this issue just slacks behind. That being said, it is a stunning achievement with very few drawbacks, promising a series that holds a dramatic vision for what the X-Men are and what they can be. 

I do have one gripe. It may be further explained and justified later on in the story, but, with that opening sequence, the title immediately seemed to lack any semblance of nuance or subtlety. A mother attempting to murder their child because they turned out to be a mutant just doesn't feel like the tangible, personal kind of mutant metaphor the 21st century needs. It comes across as strange, because the rest of the book deals with its politics with a deft hand. The complexity of UN politics, the reasoning behind a Namor and Wakandan alliance, the new Jean-led vision for mutanthood all serve to make this title far more exciting and relevant than its contemporaries.

Asrar's art feels right, if at times a little uninspired. He manages to effectively toe the line between the superheroics and the seriousness, which just helps to bolster Taylor's scripting. I think the art doesn't truly get a chance to show off with the first issue's overall story. Hopefully this changes with future issues and the story gets to expand into more fantastical territory. It is a good first issue, but it suffers from lacking scale and depth. If it is a superhero romp it needs the former, if it's a personal tale it needs the latter. Red is currently in limbo between these two elements, meaning that it leaves important developments (such as Namor's allegiances) out whilst gaining little in return. But, it is story structures like these which make reviewing serial mediums so difficult. Many of my gripes may come in later issues, as it seems like Taylor is setting up a 5-6 issue long story arc that switches between present action and flashbacks to introduce the book. If that is the case, this issue may retroactively improve, but, as it stands, this book has me wanting more character-driven pages.

Reviewers have compared this to a "back to basics" X-Title, but I don't think that's a very good comparison. Gold and Blue are the "back to basics" books, with casts and concepts that feel mostly redundant, whereas Red feels like it is carving a new path. It reutilises key franchise elements, without a doubt, but certainly not "basic" ones. These aren't standard superheroes, they reek of politics, much like Morrison's mutants did. And speaking of Morrison...

Spoilers follow. 

Cassandra Nova's return was dramatic and glorious. Instantly putting our heroes on the run is a good way to situate Jean's ongoing mission and will help the presentation of blind intolerance towards mutants go down much easier. In fact, the sequence that I had most issue with on my first read through can, somewhat, be more tolerated in a world where a group of mutants have seemingly killed a UN ambassador. It's a great pick, but may feel somewhat misused depending on the direction of Charles Soule's Astonishing X-Men series (which features Nova's counterpart Xavier). Because of that series it is hard to tell whether ResurreXion still exists in a "post-Xavier" world; Jean's speech and approach in this issue certainly seems to suggest it does. Moving forwards it'll be interesting to see if each book keeps its action to themselves, but I get the feeling editorial just won't be able to resist derailing their titles.

Despite what seems to be a complaint ridden write-up, I greatly enjoyed this issue. It has characters I love, with a strong new direction, with enough plot twisting and reveals that it has been great to go over the issue a few times just to take it all in.

Very excited to see where this leads.

1. Rogue and Gambit #2

Written by Kelly Thompson. Art by Pere Perez. Colours by Frank D'Armata. Cover by Kris Anka.

My pick of the week, Rogue and Gambit, follows up its first issue in a way that keeps the characters developing and the sauciness simmering. The "sex-factor" of this book is off the charts; tension, kissing and Kris Anka covers all come together to make a book which seems to have gotten published on horniness alone. The core plot is yet to really develop into something interesting, but the character work is far too delicious to ignore.

The art is immaculate, featuring lovingly rendered, steaming, sexy portrayals of our heroes, with a splash page that is a delight to any fan with a long-term investment in, not just this pairing, but the X-Men franchise itself. Two flashbacks are used to meaningfully develop our main characters, both of which switch art and colouring styles somewhat to create a great visual representation of the 'past'. Demonstrating the separate perspectives Rogue and Gambit have on their relationship, these sequences are fantastic moments that give a lens to unseen moments in X-History. Thompson has, so far in this series, done really well to embed and build upon X-Men continuity. In many ways, this series feels like more of a succession of the grand X-Men story than the flagship books do. 

Alongside the flashbacks demonstrating different perspectives, we get to see Rogue finally address her feelings for Gambit. It's a small moment, but it feels earned. There were countless reasons for the walls to go up, when they come down there is just as many. It seems she needed some plot-driven push to get her to the point of honesty with the relationship that Gambit always had, and, now we've touched on this 2 issues in, it sets up three issues of further more meaningful discussion surrounding who these characters are and what they mean to each other.

There really isn't anything to write home about the plot. There's a mystery, but that isn't what is keeping me so entertained page by page and into future issues. The core characters, the charm and the art is setting this up to be one of the biggest X-Books of the year. Currently, I can see myself gifting this series when collected in trade, as I really do just want to share the unmitigated joy that reading this has brought me.

Thompson is delivering with Rogue and Gambit what X-Men: Gold could not; using old and familiar paradigms to tell new and exciting stories.