Oh Seaguy, My Seaguy!
Oh Seaguy, my Seaguy!
Show of hands. How many people read Seaguy? Seven…eight…nine… Okay, that’s a relatively poor showing. What’s the deal here? Read the first issue and were scared off by it’s deceiving simplicity? Was it the lack of mutant superheroes? It was Chubby, wasn’t it? You couldn’t wrap your head around a floating, talking choona, could you? Hell, you may as well be reading funny animal comics, right?
Was it perhaps the fact that it was three-issue miniseries written by Grant Morrison (arguably Vertigo’s most golden of golden boys; no Neil Gaiman doesn’t count, as he only “consults” for them now, but for the odd Sandman thingy) and therefore you knew it was going to be collected in short order for a decent price? I mean, if they’re getting around to putting out such (relatively) lesser works of his like Sebastian O, then for certain they’ll release his first post-New X-Men project in short order to capitalize on his popularity and the thirst of his fans for some more Morrison Love after a six-month absence, right?
I suppose that’s a rational assumption. It wasn’t all that long ago that he was near the top of the charts on New X-Men, right? Well, there’s the tiny little fact of that particular book being sold on the strength of the franchise, and not necessarily the strength of the creative teams involved. It’s my recollection that when Chuck Austen took over, the numbers really didn’t slip all that much. I’m thinking about 5000 or so, but that could easily be wrong and I can’t be bothered to really look at the numbers (after all, I am an internet critic and can’t be expected to do anything like research to back up my wild assumptions, right?)
Those fans that left are fans of Grant Morrison, not necessarily of the X-Men. They (like me, I might add) were there for the writing and not because we’re addicted to the characters or trying to keep our runs complete. Unfortunately, it seems that people were expecting Seaguy (right, back to him) to make a big splash because Mr. Morrison had an opportunity to expand his audience with his run on the X-Men book. They were going to be so convinced of the wonder and appeal and smartness of his writing that they’d follow him to the ends of the earth (or the Dark Side of the Moon, in the case of Seaguy). We all know that such is not the case.
Grant Morrison wrote what was arguably the flagship title of DC for a significant time, that being Justice League of America, and still he was never able to enjoy crossover numbers that would have boosted work like The Invisibles and The Filth above cult-book numbers. It’s because in the direct market, no matter how much we talk about the writer or the artist or whoever selling the book, it’s the characters that sell the book, plain and simple. It’s not fair, it’s myopic and will eventually strangle the market, but that’s how things are.
And really, Seaguy expanding Mr. Morrison’s audience base was pretty unlikely. Please don’t get me wrong. I love the book dearly. It’s one of the few comics in recent months that has actually confronted me with a sense of meaningful ambiguity (instead of being simply meaningless). But expecting a work like that to be anything other than a small commercial success is…optimistic at best. Would it be great if an audience driven by character recognition picked up on a multilayered allegory disguised as a boy’s adventure book? Sure, it would.
That doesn’t mean I’m holding my breath.
So, it seems that both retailers and Vertigo editors were taken aback by the lack of a big response to Seaguy. Which is kind of the opposite to my experience with it in the marketplace, as I had to actually buy the first two issues from a retailer other than my usual guy since he sold out of them in the first week and had to go back to reordering it. Granted, that’s only one out of what, a couple thousand stores, right? Bad sampling to be sure.
Thing is, that response was sluggish enough that there’s some doubt as to whether or not there’ll be a second Seaguy series (and let’s be clear, there might have been a conclusion to the story, but there’s a lot more to be told). An online petition (yes, I know, those NEVER work) has sprung up and been linked to all over the blogosphere and on various message boards. I don’t know how many signatures are on it now, but it’s highly doubtful that this alone will sway DC, but who knows.
I’d hope that DC would go ahead with further Seaguy series, for a few simple reasons. First, it’d keep Mr. Morrison happy. Or at least I assume it would, since I’m guessing it was a story he wanted to tell or wouldn’t have messed around with it in the first place. Second, it’d give Cameron Stewart more crazy stuff to draw. He’s already proved himself very capable of drawing both action and character-driven sequences in Catwoman (as well as action/humour in his Apocalipstix story from Rumble Royale), but he really shone in drawing life into the day-glo darkness of the post-utopian world of Seaguy (as well as giving our hero a wide-eyed innocence that couldn’t be stamped out by the worst the world could dish out). Thirdly, it’s a great story that isn’t finished. We may have reached a good place to pause and reflect a bit, but we’re not at the conclusion, not by any stretch.
Seaguy, like oh, say Alice in Wonderland, could be read at the surface level and enjoyed quite easily. I know, what’s so different about that? Most comics read quite well at the surface level and entertain in a light and frothy (or grim and gloomy) manner. Most comics, however, stop there. Re-reading sometimes reveals subtle foreshadowing or a bit of character-driven goodness that you might have missed in the rush to read your Wednesday stack, but nothing more. Seaguy offers a wealth of allegorical depth, should you choose to go diving after it.
People often complain of Grant Morrison indulging in weirdness for the sake of being weird, which frankly is their opinion, but I don’t find that to be the case. Sure, things are weird, but everything has its place. Seaguy, in particular is festooned with weird details and things that don’t seem to fit at first glance, but upon re-reading, connections are made and a certain (if not dreamlike) logic emerges. Or maybe it’s just me. What on the surface seems to be a simple (if not beguiling) adventure story very quickly becomes an attack on bloodless and monotonous monoculture in all its guises (from kid’s TV to processed food to the deliberate dissolution of memory in an endless present to Cola empires and ultimately the inability to find passion and adventure in a world made safe for consumption.)
But hey, it’s really just about a good-looking kid in a wetsuit with his talking choona, right?
So, when the trade comes out (and it better be a value-priced ten dollar trade, or else DC is just wasting their time), give it a look. I’m not gonna say it’s for everyone, because that’s just not true. But if you’re looking for something that will reward a second or third reading, one that might challenge some of your assumptions about those funnybooks you read, then you owe it to yourself to give Seaguy a shot.