Amazing Spider-Man 8 (V): In the Neighbourhood...

In the neighborhood...

"Neighbor" is, of course, a Biblical word (standing for the Greek plēsion) meaning "a member of the community". Loving your neighbor as yourself was said by Jesus to be the whole heart of the Torah. The Old Testament arguably taught that "neighbor" meant only other Jewish people; the New Testament arguably teaches that everyone in the world is everyone else's neighbor.

The word "neighborhood" originally meant simply neighborliness or the state of being neighborly; but by the middle of 19th century it had acquired the present sense of "locality" "home" or "the part of the world where all your friends live".  It wasn't until the late 20th century that the abbreviation 'hood came to mean a specifically black neighborhood – a ghetto.

In 1964 the phrase "your friendly neighborhood" was already a well-worn cliche. Sam’s Market in Glenfield, Los Angeles was advertising itself as "your friendly neighborhood grocer" in 1958; the National Association of Retail Druggists was talking about "your friendly neighborhood drug store" in 1947. The earliest example I could find was a Methodist Church in Wisconsin which claimed to be "your friendly neighborhood church" as far back as 1935. Ed Wood's infamous movie Glen or Glenda refers ironically to "your friendly neighborhood milkman" (he's actually sleeping with the women of the neighborhood while their husbands are at work.)

Back in issue #4, Spider-Man sucked the Sandman into the vacuum cleaner with the words "Here’s the first part of your education courtesy of your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man." I suppose the joke is that Spider-Man is unique; every neighborhood doesn’t have one; and that the Bugle still presents him as anything but friendly. Or perhaps "friendly neighborhood Spider-Man" just sound a little like "friendly neighborhood milkman". It's funny: but not very funny. 

On page 2 of the Torch story in issue 8. Spider-Man tries to scare the Human Torch’s guests with a giant bat. (Why a bat, for heaven’s sake? Why not a spider?) The Torch says that it’s made of threads, and Spider-Man replies "Not threads, sonny boy!…Webs! Gen-u-wine Spider-Man webs!…The kind your friendly neighborhood grocer doesn’t sell". "The kind your grocer doesn’t sell" sounds as if it ought to be a well-known advertising slogan, but I can’t track down any example of anyone using it.

Spider-Man’s web is, of course, a secret formula known only to himself. He has spent a lot of photo money developing it in his bedroom.  Obviously, they are completely unique. So it's funny, but not very funny, to claim that you couldn't by similar webs in your local supermarket.

But the joke will run and run. Spider-Man will increasingly use it as a catchphrase. It will be referenced in the lyrics of the Spider-Man TV theme song; and decades later it will be the title of a spin-off comic. And it still won't be very funny.

   

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A Close Reading of the First Great Graphic Novel in American Literature

by

Andrew Rilstone

Andrew Rilstone is a writer and critic from Bristol, England. This essay forms part of his critical study of Stan Lee and Steve Ditko's original Spider-Man comic book. 

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Amazing Spider-Man was written and drawn by Stan Lee and Steve Ditko and is copyright Marvel Comics. All quotes and illustrations are use for the purpose of criticism under the principle of fair dealing and fair use, and remain the property of the copywriter holder.

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Amazing Spider-Man 8 (IV)

Spider-Man Tackles The Torch

Villain: 

None

Guest Stars: 

The Human Torch, plus Mr Fantastic, The Thing and the Invisible Girl

Named characters: 

Doris Evans

Observations: 

This is the first episode of Spider-Man in which none of the regular supporting cast, including Peter Parker, appears.

Spider-Man briefly met the Torch in issues #1 and #3 and has had an away fixture in the Torch's own comic (Strange Tales Annual #2)

Spins a web, any size: Spider-Man uses his web to a: a bat puppet b: two parachutes, which double as sand scoops; a hung glider; a web heart for the Invisible Girl.

Peter Parker has thrown away his specs, punched Flash Thompson, and resolved to be more like Spider-Man in his dealings with the world from now on. He’s had a mighty pleasant day having a fight with the scientific marvel of the age. So he thinks to himself: “What shall I do next? I know! I shall round the day off by picking a fight with the most famous celebrity on the planet.” He is so far gone that he not only spars with Torch (who is a near contemporary and who he knows a bit): he also tries to web Mr Fantastic’s arms and pick a fight with the Thing.

If you’ve ever wondered what would happen if Stan Lee were allowed to "dream up" a Spider-Man story on his own, without Steve Ditko to flesh it out for him...well, wonder no longer. Here it is. Kirby penciled this story, presumably in his sleep. Ditko is credited as inker. No Peter Parker. No supporting cast. No plot or set up of any kind. A nine page fight scene, without motivation or resolution. Spider-Man turns up at the Torch’s posh house and plays a stupid prank. Reed Richards turns up and tells them to stop. That’s literally it. 

One can't know, of course. But I can imagine Stan going to Jack and saying “Hey, Jack, what if Spider-Man and the Human Torch had a fight? Maybe Spider-Man gate-crashes one of Johnny's parties?” and Jack giving him precisely that: a nine page fight scene. Whereas if Stan had gone to Steve and said “Hey, Steve, what if Spider-Man had a fight with Doctor Doom? Maybe Doctor Doom kidnaps one of his school mates?” Steve would have produced a complicated and funny back story to set up the fight.

Spider-Man with Peter Parker doesn't work. Peter Parker is a wimp, a cry-baby and sometimes a jerk. Spider-Man is an arrogant braggart. And sometimes a jerk. But somewhere in the space between the two of them is a reasonable human being: a hero. Spider-Man’s bravado is bearable because it is offset by thought-balloons in Parker’s voice; Parker’s whining is bearable because the Gemini-mask reminds us that he is also Spider-Man. Take Parker away, and Spider-Man just comes across as an idiot. There is none of the wit and humour that he showed when fighting for his life against the Vulture. It’s just two alleged heroes sneering at each other. 

— Okay you animated insect! You asked for it! Here I come!

— Mercy me! I’d better prepared a little welcome for such a big, bad, blazing bird-brain.

It is just the sort of thing Flash Thompson might have said. 

Perhaps, like Peter’s bout with Flash, this needs to be looked at in terms of masculine ego; of two guys around 16 or 17 sorting out where they are in the pecking order. Spider-Man deliberately acts like a jerk to give the Torch an excuse to hit him, which gives him an excuse to hit him back. They are so near to being equals in the superhero world, they can’t be friends until they’ve had a fight. We don’t doubt that if a bad guy showed up they’d fight him alongside each other. Johnny and Ben scrap all the time, but Stan Lee assures us that they’d risk their lives for each other without question. Mr Fantastic intervenes before the fight is over, so neither Johnny nor Spider-Man are top dog. The feud continues.  

The fight itself is tolerably watchable, but it relies too heavily on gimmicks. The Torch creates objects with his flames, and Spider-Man creates objects out of web to counter them. It’s a lazy way of writing; too much like one of those Green Lantern stories when the goodie calls up a giant green rolled up newspaper to thwack the baddie, and the baddie calls up a giant green umbrella to shield himself. 

This is not Spider-Man. This is not a tale of sheer fantasy so real you’ll feel it’s happening to you. This is Spider-Man the corporate symbol, wrenched from his context and forced to appear as guest star in a story where he doesn’t belong. One story like this doesn’t do much harm. Next month, the real Peter Parker will be back, fretting about Aunt May’s medical bills. But in a few years this kind of thing will become so prevalent that we'll barely be able to remember when Peter Parker was a character as opposed to a guest-star opportunity.

Listen Bud

A Close Reading of the First Great Graphic Novel in American Literature

by

Andrew Rilstone

Andrew Rilstone is a writer and critic from Bristol, England. This essay forms part of his critical study of Stan Lee and Steve Ditko's original Spider-Man comic book. 

If you have enjoyed this essay, please consider supporting Andrew on Patreon. 

if you do not want to commit to paying on a monthly basis, please consider leaving a tip via Ko-Fi.

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Amazing Spider-Man was written and drawn by Stan Lee and Steve Ditko and is copyright Marvel Comics. All quotes and illustrations are use for the purpose of criticism under the principle of fair dealing and fair use, and remain the property of the copywriter holder.

 Please do not feed the troll. 

Amazing Spider-Man 8 (III): Peter Parker's Glasses as a Clue to the Meaning of the Marvel Universe

Peter Parker's Glasses As A Clue to the Meaning of the Marvel Universe.(*)

"I’ve had it!" thinks the Spider-Man side of the Gemini-Face on the first page of Spider-Man #8. "I’m through pretending to be a pantywaist to conceal my real identity! I don’t need those specs anyway."

This is an astonishing outburst. Parker now thinks of Spider-Man as his real self, and himself as the assumed identity. He sees his glasses as a disguise to make himself appear weak (using the borderline homophobic term "pantywaist"). And he is going to throw away the glasses and abandon the disguise.

But the Peter Parker we met in the first pages of Amazing Fantasy #15 was weak. At any rate, he was shy, studious and non-athletic. This wasn't an assumed role: it was who he was. The mask and the spider-powers may have enabled him to express a different (an not entirely likable) side to his personality. He may choose not to allow Aunt May or his school friends to see that side of himself. But Peter Parker is not a constructed identity, as Clark Kent arguably is. When he says that he is going to stop pretending to be weak, he means that he is going to start integrating the two roles.

That weak, studious Peter Parker certainly wore glasses, and if he wore them he must have needed them. They weren't reading glasses; he wore them all the time. None of his class mates have glasses, neither does Aunt May or Uncle Ben. The only person who does is the elderly Principal Davies. I'm afraid that Lee and Ditko are being rather lazy here; using "specs" as a visual shorthand for intelligence. There is, I think, a buried assumption that athletes can't be good students and good students can't be successful athletes -- an assumption which wouldn't have been understood by Rudyard Kipling or the Boy's Own Paper.



The newly empowered Spider-Man certainly starts leaving his glasses off. He manages without them in his first fight with Crusher Hogan and is several times shown without them when doing science projects in the privacy of his bedroom. It is possible that he wears contact lenses under his mask; or even that the white eye-pieces in the mask are corrective lenses. (A background piece in the first annual claims that they are two-way mirrors, way before mirror-shades were a fashion item.) But the normal line is that the radioactive spider-bite gave him enhanced eyesight as well as enhanced strength; that he initially kept his glasses as a disguise, but doesn’t bother to replace them when they get broken.

But hang on. That's not how eyes work. A non-spectacle-wearer doesn't have better eyes than shortsighted person in the way that a sprinter has better legs than a couch potato. Shortsightedness is a minor physical defect: the sufferer can't focus because his eyeball is slightly the wrong shape. If a normal-sighted person looked through my glasses, they wouldn't be able to see a thing: everything would look blurry and out of focus and they’d get a headache. So how is that Peter can get away with sometimes wearing glasses and sometimes not? Did he go to an optometrist and ask him to make up a set of specs with plain glass in the frames?

Flash Thompson continuously pokes fun at Peter Parker for being puny and skinny. Midtown High does have gymnasium but it appears that senior students don't have to take phys ed or sports classes. (They do have supervised volley ball practice during recess, but they don't change into sports kit for it.) So the last time Flash saw Peter undressed must have been some time before the spider-incident -- when "puny" would have been an accurate (though unkind) description of him. But when the boys strip down to their shorts for the boxing match, no-one says "hey, puny Parker's not so puny after all!" Coach Smith, who is presumably used to assessing young men’s physical condition doesn’t think Peter has any chance in the bout. A pin-up in the first Spider-Man annual has Liz thinking “Flash may be more muscular – but I'll take Peter Parker any day." Not “stronger": more muscular. Peter Parker still looks like the little guy.

Steve Rogers and Bruce Banner are both little guys. When they have their strength boosted, there is an immediate change to their physical shape. They can’t fit into their clothes any more. Peter Parker doesn't undergo any physical change when he becomes Spider-Man: he can jump huge distances and crush metal chimney pots with one hand, but he still fits into his geeky clothes.

So. Spider-Man is super strong even though his muscle mass hasn't altered; and has perfect vision whether he is wearing corrective lenses or not. What is going on?

Spider-Man’s powers must be derived from a psychic or supernatural source. Some external force is correcting his vision, irrespective of the state of his eyes or his glasses; and that same force is enabling him to lift objects far beyond the power of his actual muscles. This applies to other powers as well. An actual spider can climb a wall because it has millions of little pointy hairs on its eight little feet. This clearly isn't what Peter is doing: the wall-sticking works even when he is wearing gloves and shoes, but he never finds cups and pens and test tubes sticking to his hands in ordinary life. Some kind of magic or alchemy must be making his hands sticky when he needs them to be so.

I would conjecture that what gives a spider-man his power is an energy field created by all living spiders. What the spider-bite did was make Peter Parker sensitive to this force. The little lines around Peter's head are not only warning him of danger and allowing him to telepathically hear radio-transmissions: they are also channeling the spider-force. This explains why he felt that his body was "charged with some sort of fantastic energy" right after the spider-bite. It also explains how his gloopy webbing can magically take on the shape of a bat or a parachute or a boat or anything else that Peter Parker needs it to be at that particular moment.

And the existence of the spider-force explains one other crucial fact about Spider-Man.

When Spider-Man is in a particularly dire situation, he is sometimes able to increase his strength through sheer force of will. It is clear that what Spider-Man was doing, for example during the fight with Doctor Doom, was channeling the spider-force. This is going to become a key part of the story of Spider-Man. His physical strength is as its greatest when he needs it the most.

(*) Do you see what I did there?

Listen Bud

A Close Reading of the First Great Graphic Novel in American Literature

by

Andrew Rilstone

Andrew Rilstone is a writer and critic from Bristol, England. This essay forms part of his critical study of Stan Lee and Steve Ditko's original Spider-Man comic book. 

If you have enjoyed this essay, please consider supporting Andrew on Patreon. 

if you do not want to commit to paying on a monthly basis, please consider leaving a tip via Ko-Fi.

Pledge £1 for each essay. 

Leave a one-off tip

Amazing Spider-Man was written and drawn by Stan Lee and Steve Ditko and is copyright Marvel Comics. All quotes and illustrations are use for the purpose of criticism under the principle of fair dealing and fair use, and remain the property of the copywriter holder.

 Please do not feed the troll. 

The Amazing Spider-Man 8 (II): What is Flash Thompson's Problem With Peter Parker

What is Flash Thompson's Problem With Peter Parker?

In the first few pages of Spider-Man #8, Peter Parker calls Flash Thompson "loud mouth" "dumb clown", "clumsy meat-head", "ugly", and insinuates that he can’t read or write. Flash Thompson calls Peter Parker "puny", "weakling", "scarecrow", "teacher’s pet", and "worm". Parker arguably starts the altercation by priggishly telling Thompson off for calling the experimental computer a "gizmo" when it is actually "one of the scientific marvels of the age."

It is always tempting to see if the names of fictitious characters have any significance, but in these old Marvel Comics it isn’t often profitable. Peter is a rock, of course, but Parker is simply a man who looks after a park. Jameson is the son of James, and his son is John, which gives us a trio of apostles, but that doesn’t take us very far. Peter’s two girl-friends, Betty and Liz, are both presumably Elizabeths, which doesn’t take us much further. Brant is probably derived from Brand which probably means Sword; and Allan might mean little rock. Ben is a Jewish name, but May isn’t.

However, it is hard to believe that, when Stan Lee named Peter Parker’s high school adversary Flash he didn’t have Harry Flashman, the most notorious cad in scholastic fiction, at the back of his mind. Flashman was a pupil at Rugby school, which gave its name to Rugby football, from which American rules football (as opposed to soccer) is indirectly descended. Flash Thompson is a footballer although this never really comes into the story. 

Flash is often said to be a bully; but he never does anything really nasty. There is no stealing lunch money, hiding under-wear or physical cruelty. Flashman arranges to have Tom Brown flogged and tries to roast him alive; Flash merely plays practical jokes on Peter and takes the mickey out of his sprained arm. God knows, verbal bullying can be just as crippling as physical bullying, but the name-calling between Thompson and Parker is a two-way street.

Flash Thompson believes in an obsolescent code of masculine honour. According to this code, and according to his own lights, he generally does the right thing. He believes that, because of his strength and athletic prowess, he should be at the top of the pecking order — literally and figuratively the biggest man on campus. This may also be why he is such a big fan of Spider-Man; he positively wants to defer to any obviously stronger and more heroic male.

The boys treat Flash as leader; the girls regard him as a "he-man" and "dream-boat". He can date whichever one of them he chooses. But he respects the rules of dating as they stood at the time. He is surprised when Liz agrees to go on a sympathy date with Peter (which Peter breaks) but there is no question of him coercing either of them. Liz hasn’t agreed to go steady with him, so she is free to see whomever she chooses.

When I hear the term "school bully" I think of a big guy — or, more likely, a gang of big guys — waiting for a smaller guy in some secluded spot and "duffing them up", either in order to steal money, or, more likely, for simple sadism. Flash Thompson isn't a bully in that sense. I am pretty sure that if some Gripper Stebson had stolen Peter Parker’s lunch money, Flash would have intervened on Peter’s side (as indeed he does on the one occasion when Peter is in trouble with the Principal.) What Flash wants is to fight a duel of honour with Peter.

Flash is bound by a schoolboy version of the gunfighter’s code. He wants to fight Peter to establish that he is top dog. He is quite certain that he would win, and he would certainly respect the result, but first Peter has to agree to the fight. Honour prevents Flash Thompson from hitting a smaller man, hitting a man with glasses, or hitting first. That is what all the taunting is about: if Thompson could make Parker lose his temper, then he would be within his rights to hit back. (And this is why Peter taunts Flash so boldly: he knows that the code of honour means that Flash can’t hit him.) The other males in the pack are supposed to either voluntarily accept Flash’s dominance, or fight him for it. Peter Parker will do neither. Flash's problem with Peter is that he is outside the Code. He will neither kowtow to Flash nor challenge him. He’s basically laughing at the whole thing.

The staff of Midtown High side with Flash Thompson over the Code. When Flash attempts to take the computer print-out which may have Spider-Man’s secret identity on it, Peter, for the first time physically pushes Flash away. Which, according to the Code, gives Flash the right to punch Peter if he wants to; at which point Peter has to either continue the fight or accept Flash’s dominance. Mr Warren, the science teacher, steps in. He correctly identifies what is going on as a feud between two young men (as opposed to a case of big boy picking on a little one) and suggests they "settle it once and for all" in the gym. It seems utterly bizarre to us that a teacher would sanction a fight between two students. When I was at school, "fighting" was one of a small number of offences that could still result in corporal punishment. But the past, as someone once said, is a foreign country. They do thing very differently there.

Back in — oh 1999 was it? — Dave "Cerebus" Sim challenged Jeff "Bone" Smith to fight him in a boxing ring because he believed that Smith had told a lie about him. Smith declined. I never really understood what such a fight would have achieved. It always seemed to me eminently possible for someone to be weak but honest or strong but a liar. Is the idea that once you have established that you are the stronger man, you are free to tell lies if you want to? Or did Dave literally believe that it would take divine intervention to establish who had given the more accurate account of their house party to the Comics Journal?

But however strange the code of honour may look to us, Flash Thompson tries to obey his own precepts. Flash lost the fight. Peter proved he was a real man after all. So the next time they meet (in issue #9) Flash swallows his pride and tries to be pleasant to him -- and overture Peter entirely rebuffs. In issue #10, he tries again, actually turning up at the hospital to visit Aunt May. He blusters that Liz forced him to go, but Peter sees through this immediately.

Maybe a big man trying to persuade a small man to have a fight is still a form of bullying: like the expert swordsman wandering around taverns hoping that someone will besmirch his honour so he can kill them. Maybe a modern teacher might recognize what Peter is doing to Flash as a form of reverse bullying — the little guy perpetually sniping at the big guy, intending to cry "foul!" when the big guy eventually hits him. But then, one would hope that a modern teacher would also be aware of Peter Parker’s difficult situation — he's had a close family member murdered, for goodness sake! – and cut him some slack. But this honour and dominance scenario accounts for the relationships between Peter Parker and Flash Thompson far better than simply painting Flash as a bully and a sadist.

Later revisionist continuity revealed that Flash Thompson had an alcoholic father who thrashed him, and that his first name was Eugene.

He is now a member of the Guardians of the Galaxy.

Listen Bud

A Close Reading of the First Great Graphic Novel in American Literature

by

Andrew Rilstone

Andrew Rilstone is a writer and critic from Bristol, England. This essay forms part of his critical study of Stan Lee and Steve Ditko's original Spider-Man comic book. 

If you have enjoyed this essay, please consider supporting Andrew on Patreon. 

if you do not want to commit to paying on a monthly basis, please consider leaving a tip via Ko-Fi.

Pledge £1 for each essay. 

Leave a one-off tip

Amazing Spider-Man was written and drawn by Stan Lee and Steve Ditko and is copyright Marvel Comics. All quotes and illustrations are use for the purpose of criticism under the principle of fair dealing and fair use, and remain the property of the copywriter holder.

 Please do not feed the troll.