Thomas: I find myself in agreement with my compatriot on this one. When most of us got into comics, we were on the single-digit side of ten, peddling our bikes as fast as we could to get to the local drugstore or convenience mart and to see what was new in the wire pockets of the old spinning rack. Comics were comics then . . . no pretensions, no aspirations to be great literature; they were simply fun. While I enjoyed The Sandman and continue to enjoy other such “serious” comics as much as the next fan, I can’t help but feel that comics are--and truly should be, for the most part--for kids . . . of all ages. There shouldn’t be comics that exclude particular audiences because of their content. Recently, writer/artist John Byrne gave us the DC/Marvel crossover Batman/Captain America, a good, old-fashioned action story with the two icons fighting the Joker and the Red Skull in the Golden Age of comics, and it definitely had an all-ages appeal.

I think that should be the mission of comics: to appeal to a general audience so that parents who were--and, perhaps, still are--into comics can share their love of the genre with their children. I remember reading a prediction that comics such as The Dark Knight Returns and Watchmen would one day be considered serious literature; while they are great stories, that hasn’t happened yet . . . and I’m not sure that it ever will. To the general public, comics will always be comics, and all the Batman costumes with nipples and all the homo-erotic images in Superman/Wonder Woman: Whom Gods Destroy ain’t gonna change it.

George: To pick up towards the end there, I guess a problem I have is that many comics fans seem so desperate for books like The Dark Knight Returns and Watchmen to be recognized as serious literature. It's a little pathetic when you look at it. It's as though there is this massive inferiority complex running through the veins of these folks that can only be alleviated by the recognition of the greatness of these books by people who don't care anything about the genre. Why should it be important to me that someone who dislikes comics recognize the genius of Frank Miller or Alan Moore? I can tell they are pretty good all by myself. To put it another way, I'm not waiting for John Updike to produce a great comic book story so that I can, without embarrassment, enjoy his prose. By the same token, I don't need the world of traditional prose literature to go gaga over the new JLA to know that it's a top-drawer comic book.

Thomas: While I think it is important that comics remain true to their very nature as comics, I think their creators should be well-read. I’m so tired of reading comic books that have no sense of literature, that give no indication that the writers have read serious--let us even say, great--literature. For example, whenever I read an issue of Green Lantern, I wonder if Ron Marz has read anything more epic than, say, Jim Starlin’s work on Warlock in the 1970’s. I’m not saying he hasn’t read Homer, Spenser, or Milton, but, if he has, it isn’t obvious in his work. John Byrne, Mark Waid, and James Robinson, on the other hand, must be incredibly well-read. In their work, one gets a real sense of the heroic archetype, of the timeless struggle between good and evil, of the stuff of life and legend. Sure, they’re just comics, and, because of that, they should be fun, but that doesn’t mean one can’t learn something from reading them . . . or perhaps get some ideas into his head that he may be able to recall and utilize at some point in his education. Remember when you first figured out that Superman is something of a biblical/mythological archetype, his Moses-derived origin suddenly smacking you square in the face? Or how about when all those religious images in Frank Miller and Dave Mazzucchelli’s Daredevil: Born Again just blew you away? Cool stuff, even educational . . . and lots of fun, too.

George: All of this is pretty much directly on the mark. One doesn't need to get all the literary conventions and allusions of a creator to enjoy the work; however, it is encouraging to pick up work which indicates that some thought, research, and preparation have gone into putting the story together. While I don't yearn for comics to aim to be great literature, I do get the most enjoyment out of a comic that aims to be a great comic. I guess I would say that's the bottom line: a comic book creator should aim create a great comic book. Stop with all the sad, puppy-dog eyes and the "Please-take-us-seriously" garbage, and enjoy your comics. Really, I'll find something else to talk to myself about on the couch late at night.

Thomas: Yep, that’s pretty much it, isn’t it? Comics are comics. They should be no more and no less than what they are, which is, you know, fun, entertaining stuff. That’s pretty much where George and I will be coming from in this column: we like our comics, and we like them well-written . . . but I’m fairly certain George is only one here who talks to himself about them . . . on the couch . . . uh . . . late at night. Geez.