One of the biggest changes in the last decade or so of the comics industry is the shifting of attention to Trade Paperbacks (TPBs) — sometimes called Graphic Novels (but only, properly, when they are originally published in the large form, versus the more usual collection of around 7 monthly issues of comics).
TPBs effects have been fourfold:
- Comics writers and creators have begun structuring story lines around TPBs — wrapping story arcs up in 6-7 issues, eschewing stand-alone stories, making longer story lines hit some sort of climax at issue 7, etc.
- It’s served as an entre for comics back into bookstores. The local Buns & Noodles won’t stock individual issues of Superman, but they will stock a TPB collection of his latest adventures.
- Indeed, they’ll stock multiple of them, keeping adventures in print long after they would be in the “pamphlet” world. This affects the collecting biz, but also makes older stories more accessible.
- Readers are, sometimes, beginning to focus more on TPBs than the monthlies — “waiting for the trade paperback.” That’s good for Buns & Noodles, but causes a bind for the comics publishers. If folks aren’t buying Amazing X-Folks, is it because the story is going downhill and the book should be canceled (or shuffled to another creative team), or is it that they’re all going to buy the trade? And how does that affect cash flow?
Because of some of these points, some in the industry has said that the monthly “pamphlet” is an endangered species — that publishers should focus on TPBs. But that’s got its own problems — aside from the cash flow issues for publishers, it’s a much riskier proposition for readers. I might pick up a property by an unknown (or even known) artist or writer or publisher if it’s $2.50 or $3.00 (yes, comics prices are insane). I’m much less likely, without a lot of good reviews and recommendations,
to do the same for a collection that costs $15 or $20.
Where is the future going with this? No idea. If I did, I’d be rich, probably. Which I’m not. Especially since, well, I buy so many comic books.
And now a word about reviews.
I have screwed around with eleventy-dozen different review styles over the years. I mistrust single-letter ratings. Heck, I mistrust review ratings, anyway, since there’s a lot of different ways that a comic (or trade) might be good.
The best set of measures I’ve come up with are the following four:
- How’s the art? This is a graphics medium, of course.
- How’s the writing? As the Image experiment showed, people really don’t just buy comics for the pretty pictures or the cheesecake. There’s a post or five in there (most of which will recycle stuff I’ve said previously on the subject).
- How is this as a jumping-on point for new readers? Is the book so continuity-ridden and mid-story-line that someone who was new to it would be lost? That’s a functional question, not a quality question, as a book can be excellent or awful despite that. But it’s good for someone reading the review (I hope) to know.
- How is this as a comic for non-comics readers? Some folks just don’t get into the spandex fisticuffs thang, but appreciate a well-told story about people. Again, it’s not a good/bad thing, but a functional thing.
Okay, so those are the categories. How do we measure them? I’ve tried letter grades, 3-point scales, red/yellow/green lights, and 50–point scales. Last time out, I used 5-point scales, and that seemed to work pretty well. It gives enough gradation to be worthwhile, while being understandable.
I’d toyed with doing stars (5 stars, 4 stars, etc.). Never got around to building it, and, frankly, so what? I assume numeracy amongst my readers.
I need to set up the template for the review description, and the reviews themselves. That’ll take up a chunk of the next half-hour. But … it’s time to post.
(listening to: Goldsmith, Jerry & the Philharmonia Orch., “The Blue Max – Suite – Finale” from Jerry Goldsmith – 40 Years of Film Music)
(listening to: lang, k.d., “You’re OK” from All You Can Eat)