While I can’t claim to have distinct memories of the moment my fourteen-year-old self first laid eyes on the cover of Thor #195, one half-century ago, I feel confident in telling you that I was pretty happy about it (new Marvel Comics “picture frame” cover design notwithstanding). That’s in part because penciller John Buscema and inker Frank Giacoia provided a well-crafted illustration, obviously; but for me, it had more to do with the subject of the illustration. The God of Thunder and his best buds, the Warriors Three (who just so happened to be my favorite members of Thor‘s supporting cast, but hardly ever seemed to make the cover) battling a bunch of trolls? That seemed to put us right square in the middle of the high fantasy territory that often, but not always, supplied the milieu for the Son of Odin’s adventures, both in his current run and in the old Stan Lee-Jack Kirby Journey into Mystery stories I was then enjoying in reprint form via Special Marvel Edition. More to the point, that particular territory was my favorite milieu for Thor stories, as it had been since I’d caught the high fantasy bug by way of J.R.R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings in the summer of 1970 — and the main reason why Thor had become my favorite Marvel superhero in the months since then.
Adding to the cover’s high fantasy mystique was the story title bannered at the bottom (though, as we’ll see in a moment, it wasn’t the story’s real title) — “The Well at the Edge of the World!” — which called to mind (at least for your humble blogger) William Morris’ seminal 1896 high fantasy novel The Well at the World’s End.* Not that I’d actually read Morris’ immense work, mind you, but I knew it by reputation, and I may have even already parted with the two-and-a-half bucks it cost to buy both paperback volumes (numbers 20 and 21, respectively, in the Ballantine Adult Fantasy series — which, if you’re unfamiliar with it, was practically the only place you could go in the early ’70s if you were looking for fantasy fiction that hewed more closely to the Tolkien model than either Conan-esque sword-and-sorcery on the one side, or Narnia-type children’s fantasy on the other).
But, enough about the cover, eh? Let’s go ahead and turn to the book’s opening splash page, so we can learn what the actual title of our story is:**
OK, so the official title seems to give away who the big bad of this story is going to be (one of them, anyway). — which seems something of a shame, considering that the cover has completely avoided showing Mangog at all. On the other hand, it’s not like Marvel is blowing a last page reveal — ol’ Manny will be showing his ugly horned head as early page 12 — so let’s move on.
In his 2011 introduction to Marvel Masterworks – The Mighty Thor, Vol. 11, Gerry Conway writes that he considers Thor #195 to be the issue with which his run on the title really begins, despite his having scripted the previous two issues. That’s quite understandable, considering that in #193 and #194 he was wrapping up a multi-issue storyline begun by his predecessor, Stan Lee. And in fact, you could start reading Thor with this very issue and not feel at all like you were coming in late; it’s unquestionably the best jumping-on point that the series has offered since #184, almost a whole year earlier. In some ways that’s remarkable, as it seems very likely that #195’s contents — or at least a goodly portion of them — were originally intended to be the last two thirds of a 25-cent/48-page version of issue #194, before Marvel publisher Martin Goodman abruptly pulled the plug on the company’s brief experiment with extra-length, all-new comics. I base this assertion on the fact that #194’s lead story — the Conway-scripted finale to Lee’s plotline — ran only 15 pages, with a 5-page “Tales of Asgard” reprint taking up the remainder of the issue. And of those 15 pages, the last one-and-a-third were devoted to previewing this issue’s storyline. All things considered, it’s a wonder that the break between the two issues feels as well-defined as it does (at least from the #195 side).
Of course, the sense of a clear break between issues — and story arcs — does get significant visual reinforcement from a changing of the guard on the artistic side of things, as the inker for the past two issues, Sal Buscema, passes the brush to the quite stylistically dissimilar Vince Colletta. As much as I’d enjoyed Sal’s inks over his brother John’s pencils for #193 and #194 — and the inkers who’d preceded him in the months before that, chiefly Joe Sinnott — I enthusiastically welcomed Colletta’s return to the book after over a year’s absence. Colletta had worked on virtually every issue of Thor over a five-year period (beginning in 1964, when the book was still called Journey into Mystery), and for me, his inks simply looked “right” on Thor, especially when the action was set in Asgard and related locales. I might have felt differently had I been aware that he’d been guilty on occasion of erasing details from Jack Kirby’s pencils, both on Thor and, more recently, on Kirby’s Fourth World titles for DC Comics (Kirby’s belated discovery of this infraction was perhaps the main reason Colletta wasn’t inking most of those books any more, ironically freeing up the time on his schedule that allowed him to return to Thor). But, as they say, ignorance is bliss.
Wait, Thor and Sif are gonna tie the knot? And they’ve even set a date? This is big news to us readers — though not, it seems, to Sif (thank Frigga).
In the just-completed “Odin-Ring” storyline, Loki had tried to force Sif to marry him, but had been thwarted at the last moment by the God of Thunder’s timely arrival. It now seems that in the presumably brief interval between issues, the longtime couple have had a convo or two and reached the conclusion: “right idea, wrong groom”. Which makes all the sense in the world — Thor and Sif were married in Norse mythology, after all.
But, as we’re about to see, All-Father Odin is about to gum up the works by sending the two lovebirds on separate missions. After the next couple of pages, Thor and Sif won’t share another panel together until issue #202 — by which time, everyone (including scripter Conway) seems to have forgotten all about the wedding plans, at least, they’re not mentioned again. Did Conway actually forget about this plot thread, or did he simply change his mind? Or had it changed for him, perhaps by editor Stan Lee? We’ll probably never know.
While readers of Thor #194 will already have a good idea what’s bugging Big Daddy Odin, those readers just picking up the book with this issue are in the dark as much as the Thunder God. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, in my opinion; indeed, it may actually enhance the suspense of this sequence.
Odin makes an imperious pronouncement completely out of left field, and then gets bent out of shape when somebody pushes back just a tad? Ehh, must be Wednesday.
For his part, Thor seems to have decided to just go with the flow this time. Maybe he’s learned his lesson after all the previous occasions when he’s bucked Odin’s commands, only to be instantly slapped down for it — and then see everything somehow ultimately turn out for the best, anyway.
This scene represents the first appearance of Hildegarde, a character I’m afraid I probably didn’t appreciate as much as I should have back in the day. That’s probably due mostly to her not matching up perfectly with my fourteen-year-old self’s notions of sexual attractiveness — though, in my defense, her arbitrary cold-cocking of Sif didn’t exactly make for the best first impression.
That action seems even less intuitive as a way to introduce Hildegarde after one learns that Gerry Conway evidently conceived her primarily as a friend for Sif. As the writer told Back Issue magazine for their 53rd issue in 2011:
…I liked the idea of [a friend for] Sif — here was this female, and she didn’t have any female friends, you know? She didn’t have anybody that she hung out with. I thought, “Who’s the kind of person who would be an appropriate pal for her?” And then I had just read or watched some take on the Rings [sic] cycle, and I had this notion of a big Viking woman, this big massive Viking woman, and Sif was not that woman! So then it was, “Give her a pal, a big Viking woman, and see where that goes!”
Following her debut here, Hildegarde would become a regular member of Thor’s supporting cast, appearing in most issues through #232 (though only sporadically after that).*** Although later comics would identify her as a Valkyrie, she’s not presented as one in this initial run of stories; nevertheless, as Conway alluded to in his comments, her character design is clearly inspired by the conventional idea of what a Wagnerian soprano is supposed to look like — you know, the sort whose final vocal performance indicates the imminent conclusion of an opera.
Hildegarde’s remark about how she “did foolishly seek to please” one of the Warriors Three is a little confusing — she appears to be referring to an earlier incident we readers haven’t seen (in the present story, Thor and his friends have already departed the scene before Odin summons Hildegarde, so it must have occurred sometime before this adventure begins). Nevertheless, we can’t help but be intrigued. Who’s the guy? Is it the dashing Fandral? The grim Hogun? Mayhap e’en the voluminous Volstagg?**** Bring on the “woman’s talk”, please!
Ahh… now we’re getting somewhere! Methinks ’tis Hogun who has captured the fancy of the fair but formidable Hildegarde… although I suppose he could be referring to some other lady of Asgard’s court. For that matter, Hildegarde may have a different Warrior in mind, as well. One can easily imagine several ways that this might go.
And, alas, one will have to go on imagining, most likely to the end of time. Because the storyline never comes back to this subplot (or subplots) — neither from Hogun’s point-of-view nor from Hildegarde’s. As with Sif and Thor, Hildy and the Warriors Three will be traveling on different narrative tracks for the next six issues — and by the time everybody gets back together again, Conway has either forgotten all about the situation he set up here, or has perhaps just thought better of it. I know you’re all disappointed to learn this — I certainly was, back in 1972 — but best to deal with the heartache now and get it over with, in my view.
All right, moving on: Calling on the power of his enchanted hammer, Mjolnir, Thor determines that the way to the Well lies south — and so, off in that direction does our foursome tread…
And it’s action time! At least it is for about another page — but then matters conclude as they inevitably must, with the disagreeable spider-dragon thingy dispatched to the bottom of the chasm…
This is the first appearance of the “elders”, Asgardian senior citizens who have obviously been around for a good long while, but whose lack of visibility in Thor stories up to this point is explained by Bulwar’s remark that Odin had asked the old guard to keep a low profile all these years (centuries?) so “that the young gods might find their own glory.”
If the creation of Hildegarde was motivated by Gerry Conway’s wish to give Sif a peer to hang with, was there similar thinking behind the introduction of Bulwar, Whitemane, Khan, and Rongor — i.e., was the idea to give Odin a few drinking buddies in his own age bracket? Perhaps, but I’m inclined to think that the truth of their genesis lies instead in a brief news item buried within the 52nd issue of the comics fanzine Newfangles, dated October, 1971:
The phrase “Kirby’s killing of the old gods” refers to the cataclysm depicted in DC Comics’ New Gods #1 (Feb.-Mar., 1971) — the event which provides the origin for the gods of New Genesis and Apokolips, divinities whose subsequent conflict lies at the center of Jack Kirby’s Fourth World mythos. Though this is never expressly stated by Kirby in the books themselves, this long-ago cataclysm is (and was) widely understood to be the same as Ragnarök — and the “old gods” the same as the Norse Gods. There’s even a strong possibility that Kirby originally conceived the Fourth World as a potential “replacement” for the Thor series at Marvel, but either couldn’t sell Stan Lee on the idea, or opted not to try. So it’s not at all surprising — or even particularly mean-spirited, in my opinion — that Marvel would eventually respond in this lightly teasing fashion, by introducing a brand-new group of elder gods who have to rise to the occasion to save Asgard when the younger ones are unavailable (which I realize isn’t quite the same as “when the young ones mess things up”, but is close enough, I think).
I must acknowledge here that this is all speculation on my part, and is not corroborated by any external evidence that I’m aware of.***** But it seems very likely to me, and probably one of the main reasons that, unlike Hildegarde, Odin’s old gang wouldn’t be staying around for very long.
Although Odin refers to the world he boneheadedly sent Loki to in #194 as “that blackest of worlds”, readers shouldn’t confuse it with the planet actually called “Blackworld”, which is where he’s sent Sif and Hildegarde. Got all that?
As we’ve already noted, the presence of Mangog in this issue had been given away by the title on page 1. But readers who were already familiar with the character (as my fourteen-year-old self wasn’t, save vaguely, as I’d only started buying Thor with the issue immediately following the conclusion of the original Mangog saga) would be wondering how in the Hel he’d managed to survive, since Thor #157 had established that Mangog was nothing more than a spell Odin had cast to imprison a race of “a billion billion beings”, who proceeded to fade out of existence (or at least appeared to) once Odin broke the spell and returned that race to life.
Hmm, that explanation doesn’t exactly square up with what you told everybody back in #157, Odin, about Mangog being just a spell and all. But I guess we’ll have to allow it, because we all understand that Jack Kirby’s great character design for Mangog ensured the villain would have to be brought back some day, somehow.
Meanwhile, on the world called World’s End (not to be confused with the World Beyond), Volstagg’s feet are getting sore from all that walking. But, no worries; Thor has a plan:
While I’m sure it didn’t faze my younger self in 1971, the dialogue engaged in by Thor and company in this scene, with its references to making the Yrrl-beasts “slaves” and calling them “toys in these, our godlike hands“, doesn’t play at all well with me today. The Asgardians essentially come across here as entitled assholes; it’s not a good look on these supposedly noble heroes.
Trolls? Frankly, these guys don’t look much like Ulik and his brethren, the trolls who’ve made multiple appearances in past issues of Thor. But I’m sure the God of Thunder knows whereof he speaks.
Regardless of how I feel about that earlier business with the Yrrl-beasts, it’s always a pleasure to see the Warriors Three doing the things they do so well Especially Volstagg.
“Gods have no need of slaves.” OK, that’s much better.
And that’s it for Sif and Hildegarde in this issue; if they ever get around to that “woman’s talk”, we don’t get to hear it.
As for the mystery of Blackworld, it will continue to grow slowly in the background over the next six issues, before finally taking over the main narrative in issue #202. Fear not, you’ll learn all about it in future posts.
And so ends the first chapter in the latest saga of the mighty Thor. As I recall, I was fairly well satisfied with this issue in October, 1971; I had been hoping for a high fantasy adventure, and by and large that was what I got. Sure, there was that business about traveling to other planets — but the characters did travel by magic (or whatever it is you call what Odin does) — and there was no advanced technology in sight, nor a single glimpse (or even a reference!) to Earth. Eventually, as the storyline progressed from issue to issue, it would become apparent that the Blackworld thread was actually more science-fictional in nature (and that would be fine, honestly) — but for now, this was Thor the way I liked Thor best.
The only real question at this point was whether young Gerry Conway (the writer was nineteen at the time Thor #195 was published) would be able to follow through on all the situations he’d set up in this initial installment, and bring them each to a satisfying resolution. Of necessity, this blog’s answer to that question will have to be delayed to a future entry; but if you haven’t yet had your fill of Odinson action for this October, I hope you’ll come back three days from now for even more Thor, as we continue our march through Roy Thomas and Neal Adams’ Kree-Skrull War epic in Avengers. No, there won’t be a single troll in sight — but my inner fourteen-year-old won’t mind, and I bet yours won’t, either.
*In alluding to this classic, Conway was following in the footsteps of fellow Marvel writer Roy Thomas, who’d been influenced by it when christening his “Well at the Center of Time” in Avengers #84 (Jan., 1971) — though in Thomas’ case, the reference was not quite as direct. And in fact, the “next issue” blurb accompanying the final panel of Thor #194’s lead story had been even more on the nose, avoiding replication of the exact title of Morris’ work by only one “the”:
**Oddly enough, “The Well at the World’s Edge!” would later be used as the official, title-page title of the third chapter of this storyline, appearing in Thor #197; for that one, the cover would go with the alternative title, “Mangog Unleashed!” Or, maybe it’s not so odd, after all — since #197 is the issue in which Thor as his fellow questers will actually arrive at the Well, making the title that refers to that destination a rather better fit for the later comic than it was for #195.
***Hildegarde has had something of a renaissance in recent years, appearing with some frequency in Marvel’s various Thor and Valkyrie series, and playing an active role in the company’s War of the Realms and King in Black events. Of late, she’s even been subbing for Volstagg (who’s currently serving as Asgard’s senator in the Congress of Worlds) as a member of the Warriors (sometimes Ministers) Three.
****Longtime Thor readers with excellent memories might recall that in Volstagg’s debut appearance back in 1965, he’d been established as being a very married man, making it highly unlikely (if not impossible) that he’s the Warrior that Hildegarde is currently crushing on. But your humble blogger had only started reading Thor in 1968 (and had yet to encounter this particular story in reprint form or as a back issue), so I wasn’t aware of that in 1971.
*****In his indispensable Old Gods & New: A Companion to Jack Kirby’s Fourth World (TwoMorrows, 2020), John Morrow makes the case for identifying another, later plot development in Thor, occurring around issue #202-203, as Marvel’s “friendly retaliation” for Kirby’s multiple deicide at DC. With all due respect to Mr. Morrow, I think my candidate fits the facts better than his; but explaining my reasons why will necessarily have to wait for a later post.
Gerry, Gerry, Gerry…while I certainly don’t have the disgruntlement with the writer that some on this blog seem to have, he’s certainly no Stan, or Roy, either for that matter. Still, this isn’t a bad outing for the Thunder God, even though I do take exception to his over-all characterization of Sif. From the way she’s written to the way Buscema draws her, Sif is relegated to “appendage” status almost from the get-go, consigned to reacting to the weather or basically stepping back and letting others fight her battles for her. While I enjoyed seeing Thor and Sif enjoying themselves in the issue’s opening pages (SIf has always been my favorite of all Thor’s love interests), she is almost immediately relegated to mere “girl” status the second she discovers Odin is sending Thor off on a mission. This is a serious mischaracterization. Sif may be Thor’s “bae,” but she’s also a warrior, an honorary member of The Warrior’s Three (can’t be a full member because she’s, you know, a girl) and is certainly aware of the honor and responsibility Thor has to his father and the crown. For her to freak out that way, almost as if Odin were banishing Thor or condeming him to death is inappropriate. Then for Odin to summarily send Sif off, for what I assume is her own protection, with a woman she doesn’t know and who, upon meeting her, knocks her unconscious only adds insult to injury. And for Odin not to react to this mistreatment of his soon-to-be daughter-in-law seems mishandled as well.
As for the introduction of Hildegaard, she pretty much fails for me, especially as a new bestie for Sif. I don’t mind her look here. Buscema continues to put forth one of the best Kirby impressions in the business on the art and Hildy’s design is impressive, if stereotypical. She’s obviously intended to be a woman at odds with her “womanly feelings,” who would rather battle with the boys than be wooed by them (excepting Hogun perhaps) and that characterization put up against Conway’s portrayal of Thor’s intended as a simpering damsel in distress might bear some interesting fruit if allowed to grow, but since I hate this portrayal of Sif, I find myself not really caring one way or another.
Of course, this is all hindsight. In 1972, I didn’t even blink at Conway’s characterization of Sif, nor Thor and friends treatment of the yrrl-beasts and their arrogant attitudes about the trolls, so we can’t really complain about Gerry’s insensitive characterizations (or Stan’s or Roy’s or anyone else’s at this point), since they only reflect the times they lived in, but fifty years later, it certainly goes against the grain.
I have no problem with the introduction of the “old gods” here, except for the fact that they look so much alike, it’s obvious they’ll be interchangable with one another throughout. What I don’t get here is Odin’s thinking. Somehow, he knows Mangog is coming, even though Loki hasn’t freed him yet, and despite the danger, sends his best warriors off on some snipe hunt across the stars, when they would be much better suited staying put and dealing with the more immedate problem. It doesn’t make sense, but then again, Odin often doesn’t make sense, especially if that “sense” gets in the way of putting Thor and his friends on the road to some new calamity.
I was never a fan of Thor in the 70’s, but I am now and found this story to be mostly engaging, despite the somewhat backwards attitudes toward women and other disenfranchised peoples, and I’m actually interested in seeing how this goes. Thanks, Alan, for another insightful analysis.
LikeLiked by 3 people
You’re welcome, Don; and thank you for the spot-on comments re: Sif’s characterization. While doing my research for this post I came across an article someone had written about Hildegarde where the author confidently stated that Sif had been a proper lady up until meeting H. in this issue, and that it was H. who taught her how to fight. That’s completely erroneous, obviously — Sif was literally holding a sword when Thor first met her “all grown up” in issue #136 — but it would be an understandable mistake to make for someone who just started reading Thor with #195.
LikeLiked by 3 people
John Buscema inked by Vince Colletta produced a more “upbeat” THOR than did Kirby-Colletta. Both are comic book art at its finest.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Voluminous Volstagg had 15 children? Why, I’m shocked he had time to sire so many, what with his fondness for the dinner table!
LikeLiked by 2 people
As my comics collecting took off in earnest just after Conway took over Thor and Spider-Man and a bit before he took over the FF from Thomas, I had no idea he was only a decade older than me and in retrospect his rise to prominence as writer of several of Marvel’s top titles while still so young seems rather amazing. Certainly, his early writing on Daredevil, Sub-Mariner and Iron Man, wasn’t all that great, but then neither was Thomas’ early writing on Avengers and X-Men, but both certainly improved with experience as well as assistance from experienced top-notch artists (or even quick-learning and imaginative young artists such as Barry Smith).
I’d gotten Thor 191 fresh off the racks but missed the next 15 issues, picking up again with 207, by which time Hildegarde was an established part of the supporting cast. I actually liked her as a character, although she didn’t arouse my pre-teen self the way that Big John’s renditions of Sif and Karnilla did — if I’d been Balder, I’d have been hard-pressed to resist Karnilla’s charms and smoldering beauty! Anyhow, Odin’s behavior in this tale is rather ridiculous and certainly not wise at all, but not seriously out of character with how Lee & Kirby depicted him during their glory days. And this 2nd coming of Mangog was reminiscent of the Juggernaut’s return in X-Men and Lee’s last Galactus epic in the FF, pale rehashings of classic previous epics. It doesn’t help that Loki duplicates the behavior and motive of Ulik in the original Mangog tale. But while Odin was unaware of what Ulik was doing then, this time he knew what Loki was doing and could have stopped it. Maybe he’d been smoking too much Odin-hash or something.
Mangog was too good a foe to allow to reside in comicbook limbo for too long in an ongoing series such as Thor, but I’d rather that Conway had managed to come up with some more interesting way for Mangog to have come back into being and renewed his effort to destroy Asgard, etc. As per Kirby’s story, he had been created by Odin’s magic out of the inhabitants of an entire world and then been uncreated by another Odin-spell. By story logic, it should have taken another very powerful spell, far greater than what even Loki could muster, to recreate Mangog with the same burning hatred, destructive urges and massive strength. Musings of an elder comics junkie, but I’d guess if I had been reading this yarn for the first time in late 1971, I’d have just gone along for the ride without thinking too logically about the plot mechanisms, especially if I hadn’t yet read that first Mangog tale.
LikeLiked by 3 people
Yeah, that’s pretty much what I did, fred! 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
This was about when I gave up comics, or perhaps a month or two after. Kirby leaving for DC, price hikes, word balloons on the covers, and slippage in the art quality all contributed to my disenchantmant, though I can’t complain about JB’s art on Thor. Some lovely stuff, and he seemed to really enjoy sword and sorcery/fantasy more than superheroes. Or it seems that way to me, just something about the art itself make me believe he was enjoying himself.
LikeLiked by 2 people
As collected in the 2nd volume of the Essential Thor, it’s rather fascinating to see the transformation of Thor from somewhat typical mid-60s Marvel superhero fare to somewhat more high fantasy fare under Kirby, and once the Warriors Three, Balder & Sif became regular supporting characters, it had a large touch of sword & sorcery aspects and continued to do so after Buscema took over. Reviewing the Wiki synopsis of his output, he drew far more stories featuring Conan than any other character, but Thor would come in 2nd place, so it appears that while depicting the savage Cimmerian’s exploits were dearest to his heart, he also derived some enjoyment from drawing the Asgardians as well.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Gerry Conway was 18 years old when he took over the scripting responsibilities for The Mighty Thor from Stan Lee????!!!!!!!
Stan Lee was 48 years of age in 1971, old enough to be his father!!! Gerry Conway was only one year older than I was at the time!!! Just out of high school. First Thor, then Spiderman and finally Fantastic Four!!! Marvel’s big three at the time!!! All handed off from Stan Lee to a teenager!!! The wonders never end!!! From one of the survivors of the comic book purge of the 1950’s (see The Ten-Cent Plague: The Great Comic-Book Scare and How It Changed America by David Hajdu) to someone who was barely out of the crib when the Comics Code was created!!! Talk about a generation gap!!!
Given that Conway was all of 18 years old, his scripting of the Mighty Thor for #195 was actually pretty decent, even a little surprising. Bringing back the Mangog the way he did was an amateurish error, as it completely ignores the original Mangog epic. Perhaps just having the Mangog burst through the wall on the last page as a surprise development would have been best with a different story title that didn’t give it away. The explanation for his sudden reappearance could have been done in later issues.
LikeLiked by 2 people
I swear that if his name weren’t on the first page credited as writer, I would never have guessed that Gerry Conway wrote this. Back in 1971, the only writers I really paid attention to were Stan Lee, Roy Thomas, Jack Kirby and Denny O’Neil. Conway didn’t really dent my consciousness until, well, you know. . . However, while Conway’s early scripting in most of his books was mediocre to awful (with the worst being some of his early Daredevil and Sub Mariner books with second person narration), in 2021, now that I’m paying attention, I really think that he did a great job with Thor right off the bat.
Ironically, to me anyway, Thor is one of the hardest books to script because of the flowery, old fashioned dialogue pioneered by Stan Lee. However, Conway just “gets it” immediately. All of the characters speak as they always do. Conway also keeps his narrative comments in this issue to a bare minimum so that they aren’t intrusive at all. The regular characters all act consistently as always and Hildegarde is a lively and interesting new character. There is no “stretching” by Conway. Since I haven’t read the later issues of this epic yet aside from “this month’s” issue (published in November 1971), I don’t know yet if the whole story blows up into something horribly ridiculous and disappointing like Conway’s ill-conceived and executed “Mr. Kline” mess, but the first two issue of this story so far have been very engaging, entertaining and interesting. Yes, high praise for Mr. Comway from me. Then again, I thought that O. J. Simpson was a pretty good football player before well, you know. . .
With regards to the criticisms that you and others have made here regarding the characterization of Sif and the characterization of the Yrrl beasts as “slaves” and “toys”, I’m actually willing to cut Conway some slack. Well, not with regard to Sif’s characterization as a “whiny damsel” as opposed to a fierce warrior, but Stan would move back and forth with Sif’s character as well. Whenever Thor was involved, she became the submissive, worried girlfriend in Stan’s work back in those days. Conway was wrong, but he wasn’t alone in making that mistake. With regards to the Yrrl beasts, while the wording used is odd and demeaning, the Yyrl beasts were not humanoid thinking beings. If you just look at what Thor and company were doing and not read what they said, it looks like they are cowboys trying to tame bucking broncos so that they can ride them. Cowboys likely did not describe the horses as “slaves” or “toys” but their use of them was the same as our heroes used the Yrrl beasts.
To summarize, I really LIKED this issue (and the one following it–I haven’t reread the rest yet) and I must, with great reluctance but in all fairness, tip my hat to Mr. Conway. Although I guess I could also say that it he could do so well with Thor why did he do so abominably with the Mr. Kline storyline?
LikeLiked by 2 people
“Conway didn’t really dent my consciousness until, well, you know. . .”
Stu, this may be as good a time as any for me to own up to the fact that when Amazing Spider-Man #121 came out in March, 1973, I… didn’t exactly hate it. Maybe I’ll feel differently when I re-read it 15 months or so from now, but the fact remains, the story didn’t traumatize me 48-plus years ago in the way it did a lot of fans.
Here’s hoping I didn’t just lose you as a reader! 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Makes me wonder is there was much difference in the reaction between readers who had been reading Spider-Man regularly from early on through 1973, experiencing the growth of Peter’s relationship with Gwen from her introduction in issue #31 to her death 90 issues later, and those who came in much later, shortly before her death. I was an irregular reader for a few years before, with only issues 97, 111 & 120 in my collection when I got 121 off the rack. So I was familiar with Gwen Stacy, but hadn’t quite yet gotten hooked on the characters. I can’t even recall my full reaction to the story, although I knew it was a big deal and a shocking development. But I don’t recall feeling any anguish. Decades later, however, having read most of those earlier stories, and reading issues 121 & 122 again, I did have an emotional reaction. actually crying. Seemed a bit strange while reading a story I was already well familiar with, but maybe my adult self could relate to the tragic aspects more than my pre-adolescent self, as well as having a better knowledge of the characters as they were at the time and that in this particular fictional narrative, the dead character actually remained dead, never mind all the variant versions that would come out in later years.
LikeLiked by 2 people
I came in at #59, when Pete and Gwen were already an established couple. So I wasn’t there from the beginning; still, I had a good bit of time with them prior to #121.
As long as I’m here, I should probably clarify my original reactions somewhat. I was in fact shocked by the story in 1973, as well as moved; but I never felt a sense of outrage, or anger at Conway or his collaborators.
LikeLiked by 1 person
The sampling of letters published in The Spider’s Web in response to Gwen’s death showed a range of responses, some expressing intense outrage, including those wanting to toss Conway off the bridge, others more supportive!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I know that we’re hijacking this thread (although Alan as long as you are participating I guess it’s OK). I too started reading Spider Man with #59. When I finally read Gwen’s debut many decades later (I think it wasn’t until I got Marvel Unlimited in 2014), I was stunned to see that she was originally portrayed as a spoiled, self-centered jerk, nothing at all like the Gwen that existed when I started reading in Spider Man # 59. More I’ll wait to say when you inevitably blog about the issue in 2023 other than to say that it certainly doesn’t bother me that you didn’t take what happened the same way I did.
I will say that I had to steel myself to see the movie version a few years ago with Emma Stone. My wife, who was not a comic book reader but loves the movies, did not know what was going to happen, but I told her before we went that something shocking would that really happened in the comic book.
LikeLiked by 2 people
A cover i found retrospectively horribly evocative was of ASM #61, the first cover appearance of both Gwen & George Stacy, strapped in chairs with a massive container filled with chemicals falling towards them and Spidey rushing to save them. He did it that time, but ultimately they were doomed. I didn’t come across that issue until the 1990s, long after the Stacys were gone.
LikeLiked by 1 person