#and i don’t mean kid’s content i mean even stuff aimed at older audiences refuses to be complex

[fatimajpeg]

adding to this

This was an interesting article to read. I think it's a little simple but still fun to skim thru.

[ultimate-miles]

Miles Morales: Spider-Man (2018) - Or, what happens when you give a Black character to a Black writer

Miles Morales: Spider-Man follows the exploits of a now sixteen year old Miles Morales, setting the timeline of the story far beyond his earliest exploits and his then current title, Spider-Man (2016-2017) where he is fifteen going on sixteen years old.

 The Good Stuff

Miles Morales: Spider-Man is a story focused wholly on the boy behind the mask, the titular lead, Miles Morales. The book, no more than two hundred and sixty-one pages long (unfortunately), can probably be accredited with doing something Miles’ comic book titles (Ultimate Comics, The Ultimate Spider-Man, Spider-Men, and Spider-Man) really couldn’t or wouldn’t bother themselves with – which is focus on Miles’ life as student at Brooklyn Visions Academy and how he interacts with the people in his Brooklyn neighborhood.

Everything important that happens to Miles happens within the confines of the Brooklyn area. Miles isn’t off globe-trotting with the Ultimates, and he certainly isn’t fighting within the central New York City area with a villain-of-the-week, and there’s not even a mention of Peter Parker – clone, resurrected, or otherwise – present in his narrative here, which makes this one of the first stories focused on Miles where Peter Parker wasn’t lording over it like an intrusive shadow.

The most pivotal conflict that pushes Miles’ narrative forward in the book is his persisting (if not misplaced) guilt over the death of Aaron Davis, who killed himself in an effort to murder his own nephew. The re-visitation of Aaron’s death opens the narrative to the odd addition of a cousin, Aaron’s son, who contacts Miles from prison in the hopes of connecting with one of the few surviving members of the Davis family. Miles torments himself with the information, uncertain if the intent behind the letter is genuine or a stranger looking to talk to another stranger.

For the most part, I like how it was handled. It paints the actions of Aaron Davis in a completely different light. Maybe in a “not as bad as one thought” kind’ve way, and I’m not particularly sure how I feel about that considering it flies in the face of what the comics establish –which is an unrepentant man with no real affection for family – but it was an interesting angle to take with the Miles/Aaron dynamic nonetheless.

Reynolds’ use of language goes to a decent length to make Miles’ life feel lived in. The attention to detail to Miles’ internal observation of his life works to Reynolds strength as a poet. The author captures the mentality of a restless teenager, drowning in his own angst (often self-imposed) without falling into purple prose or wordiness. 

Brooklyn is the world that Miles lives in, so the people he talks to throughout the story deal the with circumstances of low-income areas, places people of more – I guess – “wealthy” circumstance have learned to dismiss as criminal despite the people who live there often not reflecting that.

Miles contemplates the projects where his uncle Aaron lived, the barber shop he goes to get his hair cut – where the older men recognize him as one of the more fortunate children with a chance to pull themselves out from the under violent cycle of gang and hustler life. He also contemplates the number of young and older residents who’ve been driven out of homes by the city looking to redevelop the area for white buyers. This is the kind’ve of stuff you’d read about in Milestone Comics stories for Static Shock, Icon, or Hardware.  

This is the kind’ve day-to-day life stuff that Brian Michael Bendis – as a white man – were so disconnected from, Miles as a character – in the comics – might as well have lived in New York City. I can only imagine that Jason Reynolds – as a Brooklyn native – used his own experiences, to a degree, to flesh out the story he was telling.

Another element I think Miles Morales: Spider-Man gets right is Miles and puppy love. This book is probably the only Spider-Man story featuring Miles to actually give him a crush that is neither – a creepy adult [white] woman for him to mack on (Diamondback and Gwen Stacy), a Plot Twist Nazi (Katie Bishop), or a really boring version of Mary Jane Watson (Barbra Rodriguez, who unfortunately appears in his recent series).

Alicia is a character I would’ve liked to have seen more of in the story, particularly outside of the purview of Miles’ heart-eyes. She’s nothing if not a brief exploration into the expectations that come with being born to “Old Black Money” and keeping up public appearances. 

Alicia’s want to stand against casual racism in the classroom is the kind of “young awakening” you see in teens who pull themselves out of apathy long enough to understand how the world functions around them, when they realize they can’t turn a blind eye to microaggressions any longer. 

But, her disadvantage is trying to churn up enough support from her classmates, who honestly just want to get through the day without conflict, or don’t give a shit, that she faces an uphill battle. And when her stance threatens her position in Brooklyn Visions Academy, her parents and the expectation that comes with their family’s reputation forces her to choose between her own belief system and her future.

Miles’ affection for Alicia is cute, and watching him struggle to make a connection with her amidst what he thinks his spider sense going off-kilter and dealing with a Mr. Chamberlain’s constant interference and need to diminish him among his peers, endears me to their [potential] relationship. 

Again, I really wish Alicia and Miles’ interaction, Alicia herself, had more time in the story to develop. Maybe with two hundred more pages (which could’ve knocked the page count up to 361 est.) this could’ve happened, but as it stands, what’s given isn’t bad and fairly enjoyable.

The Spider-Man content within the story is brief, and for me, that’s fine. The one thing about it that I did enjoy, when Miles donned the mask, is how Reynolds uses that persona to tackle the social structure surrounding muggings in Black communities. There’s a whole – and often misguided – unspoken rule wherein the victim cannot call out for help when being mugged. 

One loses the respect of the neighborhood (if you’re into that kind of toxic masculinity) and respect of your peers. Miles, afraid that the actions that led his father and Aaron down the path of crime and hustling is genetic, is faced with a situation where he can either ignore muggers who stole a kid’s sneakers, or use his alter ego to set things right.

He does the latter, and a lot about how Reynolds approaches the sequence reminded me a lot of how Peter David (the writer of Spider-Man 2099) handled Miguel O’Hara. Miguel isn’t what you’d call a “nice Spider-Man”. When he aims to teach you a lesson, chances are, a lot of his targets are left peeing on themselves. 

This is kind’ve the energy Miles uses when he utilizes the “strength of his street knowledge” on the muggers who attacked the kid. But, in the end, this really doesn’t change things. The cycle continues, and it kind’ve highlights the kind of futility Miles faces as a vigilante superhero.

 The Disappointing Stuff

Action sequences really aren’t Reynolds strong suit. I mean, writing action sequences are – in general – a pain in the ass, because a lot of it is a deliberation about how long a description needs to be, preventing things from becoming too wordy, and getting the point across without losing the audience’s interest. It’s difficult balance, one I don’t think even the best writers manage 100% of the time.

But, to his credit, I think his ability to use poetic language is a strong enough short hand that most of his descriptions don’t get lost in the soup. Additionally, because a lot of the Spider-Man sequences don’t occur until the very final climax of the story’s conflict, even when his weakness starts to show, the sequences don’t overstay their welcome.

I don’t think Reynolds really manages to marry the fantastic with the reality of systemic racism. There is definitely a way of creating a mythologized monster to represent the ugly realities of anti-Blackness as faced by Black youth within the general education system. Mythology is nothing if not one culture’s way of rationalizing or simplifying things encountered in their waking lives. But, I don’t think Reynolds manages to pull it off here. 

The idea that there is a supernatural “Mr. Chamberlain” for every Black male youth across the ages isn’t a bad idea. You can some really interesting things with that – like Crossroad Blues type stuff. But, here, it’s kind’ve ridiculous – or it’s presented in such a way that the suspension of disbelief strains to such a degree that I simply don’t buy the product being sold to me.

It feels like something that would’ve been a monster-of-the-week in the first season of Joss Whedon’s Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Angel: The Series even had an episode where a demon stoked the fires of racism against a fair-skinned Black woman, who trapped herself in a hotel room until her dying day). 

I mean, the fantastical version of Mr. Chamberlain even comes like Principal Snyder – the walking parody of the militant school authority who hates children – which is frustrating because the Mr. Chamberlain in Miles’ waking life is a proper representative of the unrepentant racist school teacher obsessed with the confederacy to a Hollywood degree.

Another sticking point: Judge still isn’t utilized in any way that makes him a character and less of a random extra that pops in and out of the narrative. I really fail to understand why writers refuses to make him and Miles friends, because at this point he needs someone else besides Ganke, the Lego obsessed non-Black character, to talk to. Honestly, the fact that Miles still lacks any Black friends his age – especially in this novel – is rather annoying.

Jefferson Davis is probably even less likeable in this story than he is in general in Miles’ comics. To be sure, he’s completely reflective of the overbearing Black father who doles out punishment with the excuse of helping his son “build character” – there are no lies detected in his characterization on that front – but his rationale is often narrow-minded and assumes bad faith on the part of his son, who is often caught in situations where he neither the aggressor or the cause of his problems. 

Like, he makes Miles clean the entire neighborhood block of trash left behind by the garbage men because he dipped out of school to play superhero. Again, I get Jefferson’s intent, but it was wildly misguided.

The situation regarding Aaron’s son, Miles’ cousin, is simply left hanging. There’s no real resolution following their official meeting in the prison, which is a shame, because it brought another kind of dynamic to the story itself. It offered a particularly ripe opportunity to use Jefferson and Aaron’s past just a little more – if only for the sake of exploring the history of the Jefferson family. 

It could’ve only  aided of Jefferson’s characterization and Aaron’s son, who needed more face-time in the story.  But, this also leads to the biggest issue with the young adult novel itself. How it ends.

The ending of Miles Morales: Spider-Man just kinda fizzles out. I don’t know whether it was due to time constrains (not really an excuse) – that Reynolds had to have the manuscript completed before a certain period of time – or Reynolds truly reached the end of his rope with the story and couldn’t think of any other way of ending things (other than how he did), but there’s no true resolution to the story.

The students, who’ve thus far shown the atypical apathy of a teenager toward one student being singled out by a racist teacher, suddenly rising up and protesting with Miles and Alicia against Mr. Chamberlain’s ritualistic dehumanization of Miles, is questionable. It’s idealistically something you want to see happen, but I feel like the story should’ve done more exploring of the students to really set this up.

 The Conclusion

Miles Morales: Spider-Man is a solid Miles Morales story. It’s the kind’ve Spider-Man story Miles Morales’ comic book series, past and present, should’ve been from the jump, and if Marvel was remotely interested, I could actually see a book series coming out of this (so long as the Black author(s) remain). The Spider-Man elements are few and far between, and perhaps that’s for the best. Anyone looking for superhero antics equivalent to what happens in a 19-to-20 page comic book, or a trade, should probably look elsewhere because that’s not the focus of the story.

The strength of the story is how Miles deals with the day-to-day issues of his life and how a Brooklyn-native author uses his familiarity with his home turf to do what Miles’ comic books honestly failed to do. Make Miles a part of the world he was supposed to be living in in-between his life as a superhero, which was the world of Brooklyn, New York.

Even with the shortcomings of the narrative, Miles Morales: Spider-Man is without a doubt the best story that has come out for Miles Morales in four years (like since issue #19 of Ultimate Comics Spider-Man).

This is the kind of storytelling, the kind of writer, which Miles Morales needs. But as long as Marvel continues to be allergic to hiring Black creatives for his comic book title – or anything for that matter – a milquetoast (and often inauthentic) Miles Morales is more or less what the consuming audience will be given.

If you’re a Miles Morales fan, I definitely recommend this book.