Black Gate

Matt Wagner began writing and illustrating the first Mage series in 1984 at the age of twenty-two.  At the time, he was a relatively unknown creator struggling both to find his voice and make a place for himself in the comics industry.  His subsequent work on Grendel and Sandman Mystery Theatre had garnered many awards and critical acclaim; but in interviews there was always the obligatory question of “When are you going back to Mage?”

When the second volume of Mage began in 1997, Mr. Wagner had earned a (deserved) reputation as both an illustrator and storyteller.  The main character of the series, Kevin Matchstick, had also been working hard in the intervening years, earning his own reputation.  The similarities between Wagner and Matchstick are both obvious and entirely intentional, to the point where Wagner has referred to Mage as a sort of mythologized autobiography.  So we can read this volume as both an examination on how mythic tropes exist in our everyday lives and as a fantasy-dressed account of Wagner’s ups and downs in the comic industry.

When I originally read this book, I was twenty-three (essentially the author’s age when the first book was published) and a lot of it was lost on me.  I identified a lot more with the jaded young man of the first volume than with the more practical and down-to-earth middle-aged man in volume two.  Fifteen years later (oops, guess I just gave away my age there), the second volume seems much richer to me.  This is the story of a hero growing up, learning that being good involves more than simply opposing evil.  It also carries some veiled criticism of the superhero genre (specifically, why most superheroes are perpetually locked in their mid- to late twenties).  The series ends with Kevin Matchstick committing an act of maturity that most superheroes would never dare (unless it was a dream or an imaginary story or eventually ret-conned).

The first book concerned Kevin refusing to acknowledge his own potential to change the world.  His friends were mostly there to inspire him (sometimes by dragging him kicking and screaming to his destiny).  In some ways, it was a young man’s fantasy, with everyone around Kevin telling him about his greatness and obligation.

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Be honest.  If you had magical powers when you were a teenager, what would you have done?  How long would you have walked the path of righteousness before cursing the school bullies?  Before casting a spell to make yourself popular?  Before just flat-out killing bad people?  Would you have made friends with elves … or goblins?

Ted Naifeh’s series of fantasy comics for young people (the back label says it’s appropriate for children ages 7 and up), introduces us to Courtney Crumrin on the day her vapid parents move in with her grand-uncle, Aloysius.  After a few restless nights, she discovers that her grand-uncle is more than simply a curmudgeonly hermit.  He’s also a wizard, more feared than respected by his fellow magicians, occasionally called upon to handle those supernatural problems that others don’t want to handle.  Going through his collection of grimoires, she begins her own self-guided education in the magical arts.  In the first volume, she traps a child-eating goblin, enchants herself to become the most popular girl in school, travels to the faerie kingdom to swap out a changeling for a human infant, and gets replaced by a doppelganger who turns out to be nicer than her.

Courtney is an intelligent young woman who’s just naturally drawn to the darker parts of this world, a cynical yet moral protagonist.  These early stories tend to rely a bit much on the “and then her uncle saved her and put everything right” solution; but they effectively convey a child going through those early learning stages, both of magic and of the harsh truths about life.  I’m glad that, after years out of print, the original volumes are being reprinted, even as a new series of adventures begins.