Captain America

I love comic books. I have somewhere around 40,000 of them, which I cannot bring myself to sell even though I haven't actively collected comics in over 15 years. Every now and then, I read a few comics. Someday, I'd like to write a comic series; Jon & Lobo on the pages of a graphic novel would rock.

So it was that when, a bit ago, I learned that Marvel would be killing Captain America, I felt more than a tinge of sadness. Sure, Cap was never the brightest star in the Marvel universe, but I read him both as a kid and for a while as an adult, both in solo adventures and with the Avengers, and I have to admit that I'll miss him.

My reaction also reminded me of the power of series fiction, graphic or prose or video or radio. A single book can inspire you to change your life--I really do believe that--but a series can take up residence in your heart.

If you hate this particular series, go ahead and laugh now, but when John D. MacDonald died and I internalized that I'd never again get to read a real Travis McGee story, I was bummed for several days. When as a seventh grader I finished The Return of the King and there was no more, I ached. I could name many, many more examples, but you get the point.

None of this is to say, by the way, that I think series are better than standalones. I most definitely do not. I also don't try to say whether a perfectly cooked piece of Kobe beef is better than a flawlessly seared bit of prime foie gras; they're both wonderful.

I do, however, get annoyed at those who decry series fiction as inherently worthless. Those folks obviously didn't feel awestruck by The Prisoner on their first viewing, or yearn to fight alongside Spidey or the Avengers, or wish Spade or Marlowe would need their help, or wonder if Slippery Jim would ever lose his touch.

Or feel the loss of Captain America. RIP, Cap.