How I Learned to Love Comics Continuity

So a few weeks ago Pattie and I were visiting my mother, and the premiere of Birds of Prey hit the screen. If you haven’t caught it, the basic premise is that three attractive female superheroes and one attractive male cop run around Gotham City fighting crime. With all the attractive people running around, the show certainly fits into The WB’s overall oeuvre, but that’s not why my family sat down to watch. Since the show is loosely based on the DC comic of the same name, we were there to observe – and where necessary, explain – where the show’s writers drew their inspiration.

And that’s the true genius of the show, from where I’m standing. It draws concepts from just about every interpretation of Batman over the last 25 years, and smooshes them all together with some attractive people and Top 40 hits. Pattie, my brother and I spent the night trying to explain it all to my mother.

“The therapist is a bad guy?”
“Yeah, she came from the animated series.”
“When did Catwoman have superpowers?”
“The Tim Burton movies.”
“The Joker shot Batgirl?”
“Yeah, Alan Moore wrote that in the mid-80s.”
“Wait a second, Batman has a daughter?”
“That’s from the seventies.”
“Who’s that in the Batman suit?”
“The guy from the OnStar commercials.”

Now, you may think that we’re freaks for keeping track of all this information. On the other hand, right now Fox is broadcasting the World Series and keeping track of the number of outs the Angels have made on ground balls. Every supermarket checkout lane includes multiple guides to the latest soap opera goings-on. And there are plenty of folks who know so many details about major military battles that they go out and re-enact the things. So obsessive attention to detail is not the sole purview of the superhero comics fan.

On the other hand, we do have some of our own little quirks, but I think the world would be a better place if those quirks became more widely accepted. Take the retcon, for example. Retcon is a shortened form of ‘retroactive continuity,’ which is what happens when one writer decides that some story that got written ten or twenty years didn’t actually happen the way the previous writer wrote it. For example, in 1985 Marv Wolfman and George Perez produced Crisis on Infinite Earths, which basically established that nothing DC Comics ever published actually happened, unless someone later decided to say that it did. (That this sort of revision happens often enough that comics fans not only came up with a technical term for it, but eventually needed a shortened slang version, should tell you something.) Sometimes this is necessary because the old story attempted to be current and topical, which is often a bad idea because time never really passes in comic books. Sometimes the new writer doesn’t like the old writer, and sticks in a retcon as a bit of a literary poke in the eye. And sometimes the writer is just trying to surprise people, with the old ‘Everything you knew is wrong!’ trick.

Either way, I think it would be fun to be able to employ the retcon in our everyday lives. It could work like instant replay in football, where each half the coach can throw a red flag on the ground and get the ref to look at instant replay to change a call.

BOSS: Those proposals you were supposed to send to the Los Angeles office never got there, and so we lost the big account! You’re fired!
DAVE: (throwing flag on the ground) That’s a terrible plot development. I demand a retcon.
BOSS: Great job getting those proposals done at the last second! The client’s so happy they’ve sent you this priceless collection of rare gems as a token of their appreciation, and we’re giving you that big promotion and the desk with the comfy chair!

Then there’s the ‘imaginary story.’ This occurs when the writer of a story wants to make clear that no one will ever acknowledge the events of the story again, and they will have absolutely no repercussions for any of the characters’ ongoing plotlines, and therefore should be distinguished from the non-imaginary stories of people who fly, run at the speed of light, and stick to walls. This supposedly gives the writer license to tell edgier, more outrageous, or more ridiculous stories, although it often results in ‘What if Superman’s rocket were found by Batman’s parents?’ On the other hand, imagine waking up and declaring that today is actually an imaginary story. Eat all the junk food you want. Rip off a mattress tag. It doesn’t matter – it’s an imaginary story! Of course, when it’s over, you may not remember that any of it happened, but hey, that might be a good thing too. Those mattress clerks can get really protective.

There is one potential drawback to this concept, as Birds of Prey the TV show aptly illustrates. No matter how many writers try to simplify things, no matter how many retcons they may employ, no piece of continuity ever really truly dies. There’s always the chance that the imaginary me who ripped off that mattress tag is gonna show up demanding a crossover, and those always end up in trouble. Plus there will undoubtedly be some guy on an Internet message board arguing passionately that my firing was a much better story than the rare gems. At least I can take comfort in the fact that no one pays any attention to people on the Internet.

About Dave Thomer

Born and raised in Philadelphia. Studied philosophy at Fordham University in the Bronx, where I made many great friends and met my wonderful wife. We moved back to Philadelphia, where I studied philosophy some more and became a teacher. Online and off, I'm looking for ways that we can be better citizens and build stronger communities.

October 15, 2002 @ 12:00 am

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