A Touch of Silver #1

There’s a strong irony in my not liking A Touch of Silver. Clearly, as this blog shows, I have no problem with the concept of expressing nostalgia for the masses. Maybe it’s a case of the reflection being a little too accurate that makes me uncomfortable. Then again, nostalgia aspect aside, it’s not like A Touch of Silver is actually very good.

So let’s back up a second and dispense with some details: A Touch of Silver was a six-issue mini-series written and drawn by Jim Valentino. Valentino was one of the founding members of Image Comics back in the early 1990’s. The company was formed because a group of comicbook artists wanted to be in control of their own creations. Valentino’s initial Image Comics offering was Shadowhawk--a vigilante who would punish criminals by breaking their spines and paralyzing them for life—but then something interesting happened: He published A Touch of Silver, a semi-autobiographical story of a boy and his love of comics. Which is about as far from spine-breaking vigilante’s as you can get.

A Touch of Silver was part of the initial phase of nostalgia comics that started popping up with increasing regularity in the 1990’s. You see, it was at that point in time when the people who came of age reading comics, and who then ended up in the business of writing and drawing comics, became old enough to be able to reflect on what the whole experience of “growing up reading comics” meant. And naturally, that meant exploring those ideas through the very medium that meant so much to them.

These “nostalgic comics” came in two basic styles: the first were original stories where the entire package—art, design, and dialogue—purposely mimicked the style of (mostly) super-hero comics from previous decades. Then there were the contemporary stories that took place in the “real” world (as opposed to words where muscled men dress up in primary colors and leap tall buildings in a single bound) and dealt with how reading/collecting comics played an important part of the protagonists story. 

I generally enjoy the first type of nostalgia comics. When they’re done well, it’s fun to see talented people re-create the style and flavor of stories long ago, and still put a modern spin on it. If nothing else, I admire them for the ability to distill what gives a comicbook its identity, and then riff off it. Reading a comic like 1963, for example, is the equivalent of watching The Rolling Stones jamming out to a Muddy Waters song.

The second type, though, I was never very enamored of. I think it’s because most of these stories never varied. There was always the requisite uncool kid who just wanted to fit in but didn’t, but he loved comics, gosh-darn-it, and at least he could find enjoyment in that when everything else around him sucked. Which, let’s be honest, pretty much sums up my life from age 12 – 16. And, having lived it and come through it, I don’t feel much interest in reading about it. I mean, if I was interested in ruminating on how comics were a rare moment of joy when I had few friends and girls wouldn’t talk to me, well, I’d just go write a blog about it or something. It just seemed a little too cloying.

Take the first issue of A Touch of Silver (the only issue I have, by the by). In it we’re introduced to Timothy Silver, just as he turns 10 years old in 1962. Tim’s got it rather rough. His best friend can’t come to Tim’s birthday party because his friend’s mother doesn’t like the fact that Tim’s Hispanic. Meanwhile, Tim’s parents keep screaming profanities at each other at the top of their lungs, resulting in Tim’s father walking out of the house.  Tim takes his frustration out on his mom, who takes her frustration out on Tim. Tim’s only solace is his friendship with neighbor Debbie, who’s father apparently enjoys beating on her mother. Then there’s Tim’s birthday party, during which his father does not show up because he’s too busy shacking up with his mistress, and the only friend of Tim who does show up is the aforementioned Debbie. But, fortunately, Tim’s got his comics that allow him to find a little bit of escape and enjoyment in an otherwise crappy existence.

As you can see, it’s a pretty heavy-handed story, full of just about all the clichés an unhappy childhood could give you. I think that is what soured me on this book, more than anything. Nothing about it felt genuine. Even Tim’s escape into comics felt forced—“Ah, see, comics are his saving grace because comics bring joy and love and solace to all the poor misunderstood outcasts all over the world.”

The funny thing is this comic got heaps of praise when it came out. In fact, the letter’s page is overflowing with established pros tripping over each other to tell Valentino how great his story is. Kurt Busiek, Coleen Doran, Mark Waid, Terry Moore, Marv Wolfman . . . hell, even a few words from Will Eisner. Which I think is another reason why I have a gripe about this kind of story: the attraction isn’t in the story itself but the shared experience of being a comicbook fan. 

Which is fine, in and of its self. But a story, above all, needs to be a story. It has to have characters are compelling and not caricatures. It has to convey ideas and emotions that translate beyond a select inner circle of people who are in the know. This first issue is clearly a vignette, and I suppose that, had I read further issues, I’d find that Valentino would have brought more depth and nuance to his cast. But with the first issue it was clear that Valentino’s primary interest was in expressing his love of comics. And in that, he didn’t win me over. The irony is that the comicbooks Jim Valentino read--the comics that influenced him and made him want to write this story--did that exact thing.  Those stories resonated. But while A Touch of Silver may convey that this happened, it absolutely fails at being able convey what that resonance felt like.

It has not escaped my notice that, for a guy who supposedly loves comics, I’ve spent three of the four issues being mostly underwhelmed by them. But that’s sort of the point. Because while there is nostalgia loaded with each comic I read, the fact is that in the nearly 10 years since I’ve collected comics regular, I’m really not sure why I collected them for as long as I did. For all my criticism of A Touch of Silver, at least Valentino knew what he wanted to tell. I’m still figuring out that part for myself. Fortunately, I have several thousand opportunities to work it all out.

Up Next: We reach the first series (alphabetically, not chronologically) that I collected regularly. It’s actually one of several titles that were about a country boy making his way in the big city. But he ends up in an ethical quagmire when he finds himself reporting on news that he never admits to being personally responsible for creating.