Silver Surfer #2 – Second Opinion

For our first review on this issue, click here…

The Review: I don’t go out of my way to read other people’s takes on the comics I review, but I come across them every now and then, and it’s always a fascinating experience. In this case, I was particularly interested that Newsarama’s Pierce Lydon panned
Silver Surfer #1, which I considered the best of the latest Marvel #1s. Now, it’s true this isn’t much of a paying gig for me, but I consider it my responsibility to suss out such drastic differences in opinion, if only to see if there’s something I missed.

While Lydon makes several criticisms that I’m ambivalent about,* the one that really caught my attention was his feeling that “Slott is missing the loneliness and rage that makes Silver Surfer an enticing character.” I wonder. As someone who’s vaguely familiar with Silver Surfer, but certainly no devotee, I feel that Slott is very well aware of the former herald’s tragic qualities, which manifest in his earnest determination to do right by everyone, to make up for past mistakes. But this is Marvel NOW! The point is to find new dimensions for these old characters, releasing them from traditional trappings.

Hence, Surfer’s declaration in this issue: “All this time you feared a herald. But I am so much more! I am Norrin Radd!” It’s a passionate statement about his identity, that within his cosmic exterior is a person trying to rediscover who he really is. That person is allowed to feel and act out a whole range of emotions, including cunning (destroying Zed’s cambots and pretending to blame it on his “wild aim”), exasperation (“Earth. It’s always someone from Earth.”), even befuddlement (“What?” he says when Dawn declares she’s going to save him). I expect “loneliness and rage” will always be a part of Norrin’s make-up, but even Batman has more than that going for him.

Speaking of Dawn, Lydon has a few words to say about her as well: “[W]e’re told we have to care about [her] because she’s been named ‘The Most Important Person in the Universe.’ What’s meant to be a mystery just comes off as a lazy, failed attempt at creating gravitas.” I don’t think Slott’s subtitle for Dawn, which clearly has a ring of irony, was meant to make us “care” about her, necessarily; “interested” may be the better word. But even if she didn’t win you over last issue, she comes closer here, as she orchestrates her own escape from the Motivator Cells yet still finds time to take in the amazement of all she sees.

There’s an obvious link between Dawn and Norrin, thanks to her childhood wish, but more than that, each shares a desire to explore all the possibilities life may offer them. As Dawn stares at the Never Queen’s heart, the true power source of the Impericon, she realizes there’s a whole universe available to lavish her wonder on. For Norrin, who’s already seen most of the universe, the Never Queen gives him a glimpse of a no less limitless area to explore: relationships—encounters with allies and enemies, offers from the Fantastic Four and Galactus, and most of all, possible joy and sorrow with Dawn.

The Never Queen may be the “embodiment of all possibility,” but it takes a writer with boundless imagination to make that seem convincing. And he really does approach this series with childlike zeal; no idea is too kooky to use, even Dawn feeding “Vegan Zapperapples” (“Vegan” in the sense of being “from Planet Vega,” as the Earth term is lost in translation) to cellmate Plorp, stimulating his hyper-acid reflux to break out of their imprisonment. I won’t say this or other concepts (like the Edge of Reality, a sword that “cut into the fabric of existence itself” and thus harm the otherwise abstract Never Queen) are purely original, but Slott’s enthusiasm is so genuine that you get carried away with him.

The bold silliness of it all is starting to sound very Silver Agey, which is why it’s so fitting to have Allred, the Jack Kirby-est of all modern artists, on board. His choices of posture and special effects may be a bit crude by contemporary standards, but in context of a series that seeks to entertain your inner child, Allred’s art is rather charming. If nothing else, his sense of scale and striking details (and Laura Allred’s groovy colors) have a way of making visuals pop in your eye and stay there, encouraging you to linger on choice pages, like the sight of the Never Queen’s heart radiating bolts of pure possibility into the Impericon’s reactors.

Conclusion: It’s not deep, but it’s fun, pure and simple, with enough substance to keep a grown-up convinced and occupied.

Grade: A-

– Minhquan Nguyen

Some Musings: * Such as his gripe that Slott cribs too much from Doctor Who, which he describes as “all-too-familiar direction,” but to which I respond: not to those who’ve never seen Doctor Who—which I haven’t. A wretched stain on my geek cred, I know.

– A Plorpian with the name Plorp who can only communicate by saying “Plorp.” Good thing there’s only one of him here, otherwise it might be confusing.