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And there goes my shop.
May. 26th, 2010 06:06 pmMy beloved comic shop is closing. This is a bummer I can't quite describe. We started going there opening day, and when we started going there, I didn't read comics on a serious level. I'd read a few, yes, but by and large, comics had passed me by. I grew up in a hugely literate family. We all read all the time, but comic books weren't part of the equation, save the occasional Archie comic. My grandmother never liked (and still does not like) comic books, because when she knew them, they were the basic superhero stuff and all the horror and true crime stories, so she chalked them up as worthless and forbade my mother from reading them.
My first real exposure to comics as a form were the X-Men, Spider-Man, and Batman cartoons from when I was a kid. I knew comics were out there. I knew they were about superheroes and stuff, but I'd never read a single one. I think I read maybe three or four comics throughout my whole life before finding my shop.
It happened like this: The Husband (back when he was The Boy), in a frenzy that can only happen to Magic: The Gathering players and similar nerds, had heard rumors of a new shop opening. He asked if we could hit it up on the Saturday it opened, and I said sure. We got there and to say it was a madhouse would be an understatement. You see, the Saturday they opened was Free Comic Book Day, so established comic book nerds were already there waiting to pick up whatever the shop had to offer. I don't remember every comic I got that day, but I know one was the Justice League Unlimited FBCD book. I don't remember reading a whole lot of comics that year, but I spent a hefty amount of time at the shop. The Husband played MTG every week, and some nights he went alone, and other nights I went with him, doing homework at an empty table or crocheting something, or just chatting with whomever was handy.
My comic experience exploded in 2007. "Umbrella Academy" was put out as a free book on FBCD 2007, and once I discovered I was passionately in love with it, my comic guy took the reins and started throwing absolutely everything at me to see what would stick. The answer? Damned near everything. He tried "Fables." I loved it. He handed me "Young Avengers." I loved it. He tried "Astonishing X-Men," "New Avengers," "Transmetropolitan," "Preacher," "The Boys," "Captain America," "Daredevil," "Runaways," and beyond. The results? At my peak, I was reading 32 titles a month. On purpose.
What was even more impressive to me than my monthly haul was the fact that everything I'd heard about being a female in a comic shop never came true at my shop. I wasn't a "girl comic book nerd." I was simply another nerd in the room. For probably the first two years we went to the shop, I was routinely the only person with boobs in the store. I watched guys come in with their girlfriends, and I'd try to talk to them, see what they read or what they played. The guys were always into comics or D&D or MTG or some obscure board game. The girls? Had been dragged in unwillingly and would barely talk to me at all. No big for me. I had a whole store of people who wanted to know how I was. Occasionally, someone would wander in and be impressed that a "girl" knew about comics, and when I started working in the shop there were a few people who flat wouldn't talk to me, but my comic guy and the rest of the regulars never pulled that crap. I was simply another comic book nerd, and my reading list was usually longer than most of the people I talked to, so I became a de facto place for information.
"What's good?" I'd get asked by regulars looking for something to read.
"What do you read?" I'd reply. "What genres?"
More often than not, someone would go home with a comic.
There are other shops in town. There are other places that have my entire pull list, but those places aren't my shop. They're not my nerd-hole. Those places have comic guys who, upon seeing me digging through "Batman" back issues, recommend me "Wonder Woman" and then "Supergirl" and then can't come up with another book because there isn't a woman on the cover. Those shops ask if I found everything, and when I consult my list of wanted trades, they ask if I'm shopping for my boyfriend. And none of those shops has a comic guy who greets me by picking me up and swinging me around, and then turns around and shakes The Husband's hand. They're good shops for some people, sure. But they're not mine.
I'm gonna miss my shop.
My first real exposure to comics as a form were the X-Men, Spider-Man, and Batman cartoons from when I was a kid. I knew comics were out there. I knew they were about superheroes and stuff, but I'd never read a single one. I think I read maybe three or four comics throughout my whole life before finding my shop.
It happened like this: The Husband (back when he was The Boy), in a frenzy that can only happen to Magic: The Gathering players and similar nerds, had heard rumors of a new shop opening. He asked if we could hit it up on the Saturday it opened, and I said sure. We got there and to say it was a madhouse would be an understatement. You see, the Saturday they opened was Free Comic Book Day, so established comic book nerds were already there waiting to pick up whatever the shop had to offer. I don't remember every comic I got that day, but I know one was the Justice League Unlimited FBCD book. I don't remember reading a whole lot of comics that year, but I spent a hefty amount of time at the shop. The Husband played MTG every week, and some nights he went alone, and other nights I went with him, doing homework at an empty table or crocheting something, or just chatting with whomever was handy.
My comic experience exploded in 2007. "Umbrella Academy" was put out as a free book on FBCD 2007, and once I discovered I was passionately in love with it, my comic guy took the reins and started throwing absolutely everything at me to see what would stick. The answer? Damned near everything. He tried "Fables." I loved it. He handed me "Young Avengers." I loved it. He tried "Astonishing X-Men," "New Avengers," "Transmetropolitan," "Preacher," "The Boys," "Captain America," "Daredevil," "Runaways," and beyond. The results? At my peak, I was reading 32 titles a month. On purpose.
What was even more impressive to me than my monthly haul was the fact that everything I'd heard about being a female in a comic shop never came true at my shop. I wasn't a "girl comic book nerd." I was simply another nerd in the room. For probably the first two years we went to the shop, I was routinely the only person with boobs in the store. I watched guys come in with their girlfriends, and I'd try to talk to them, see what they read or what they played. The guys were always into comics or D&D or MTG or some obscure board game. The girls? Had been dragged in unwillingly and would barely talk to me at all. No big for me. I had a whole store of people who wanted to know how I was. Occasionally, someone would wander in and be impressed that a "girl" knew about comics, and when I started working in the shop there were a few people who flat wouldn't talk to me, but my comic guy and the rest of the regulars never pulled that crap. I was simply another comic book nerd, and my reading list was usually longer than most of the people I talked to, so I became a de facto place for information.
"What's good?" I'd get asked by regulars looking for something to read.
"What do you read?" I'd reply. "What genres?"
More often than not, someone would go home with a comic.
There are other shops in town. There are other places that have my entire pull list, but those places aren't my shop. They're not my nerd-hole. Those places have comic guys who, upon seeing me digging through "Batman" back issues, recommend me "Wonder Woman" and then "Supergirl" and then can't come up with another book because there isn't a woman on the cover. Those shops ask if I found everything, and when I consult my list of wanted trades, they ask if I'm shopping for my boyfriend. And none of those shops has a comic guy who greets me by picking me up and swinging me around, and then turns around and shakes The Husband's hand. They're good shops for some people, sure. But they're not mine.
I'm gonna miss my shop.