Since I’ve started working in the comics industry, I get my comics in thrice-yearly binges at conventions. Some of the country’s best retailers—the Comic Relief booth is always a stop—and comics publishers are at San Diego Comic-Con and even smaller, relatively snoozy conventions like WonderCon, so if I want a graphic novel, I will be able to find it. It’s left me spoiled—disconnected from most of the comics-buying public and uninformed about their options. So this month, I decided to go to a comic store, a chain bookstore and the library to look for some of the most positively reviewed and hyped graphic novels of 2007. I chose the works by taking a survey of year-end lists and trying to include a variety of genres: Exit Wounds by Rutu Modan, Alice in Sunderland by Bryan Talbot, All-Star Superman, Volume One by Grant Morrison and Frank Quitely, Laika by Nick Abadzis. I planned to check out the stock of Naruto while I was at it, seeing as it’s pretty much the bestselling comic series in the country now. I decided to go only to places in my home town, a suburban city of about 200,000.
The city has but one comic book store that I could find. There used to be others. They remain in my memory—small, dark, dusty and cramped. The comic book store that remains is small but bright, clean and well-organized. New issues were out and unwrapped on racks, back issues bagged-and-boarded” in long boxes. I was surprised to see that there was absolutely no manga that I could spot. The graphic novels were shelved by publisher, and, alas, the publishers carried were not widely representative. I was surprised to see that there was absolutely no manga visible. The books that were on sale were in excellent condition. This is because they were all bagged or shrink-wrapped. I found All-Star Superman and showed the cover to my husband, who is a fan of “classic” Superman. “What’s that?” he asked, mildly intrigued. I said something about it being about the essential Superman, saving Lois Lane from Lex Luthor, that kind of thing. Neither of us wanted to ask if we could tear the shrink-wrap off, so like anyone ordering from Diamond's monthly Previews, he only had a vague description and cover image to go on.
I found none of the other books on my list. There were signs on the shelves assuring customers that the store will be happy to special-order graphic novels, but would anyone unaccustomed to comic book stores actually do that? I look toward the counter, where the proprietor, who greeted us when we came in, was standing. Facing him across the counter were three young men, two of them in Spider-Man T-shirts, loudly discussing their pull lists as well as the proper care of dogs (one maintained that dogs did not need such luxuries as a warm place to sleep). It was awkward to try to cut in.
I left without buying All-Star Superman and decided to see if I could get a look inside of it at Border’s. No such luck. In the prominent graphic novel section at the local Borders were several shelves dedicated to comics, most of them manga. Scattered around on the floor were several young adolescent boys reading volumes drawn from the ample stock. (Plenty of Naruto here!) It was a bit difficult getting to the nonmanga shelves, since I had to squeeze around these boys, who seemed oblivious to their surroundings. The graphic novels were organized by title rather than author. The superhero comics were lined up neatly, but the “everything else” shelves were a jumble, the many different sizes of the graphic novels making the shelf difficult to scan. I found none of the books I was looking for, but the computer where customers can search for titles informed me that I could special order them.
This is when I realized that, despite their differences in detail, in their essentials the comic book store and the Borders were very similar. Both catered to specialty audiences, stocking for those customers to the detriment of the diversity—as well as currency—of the graphic novels they offered. Both offer special orders, but I wanted to see the books before I bought them. It was just too soon to make a commitment.
And libraries are perfect for the commitment-shy. There, graphic novels are shelved according to the Dewey decimal system, so they’re in the nonfiction section no matter what genre they are. My library also has a small collection, mostly manga, in the Young Adult section. The manga seems to be popular—a sign requested that patrons limit themselves to two—and most of the Naruto, the catalogue informed me, was checked out. Exit Wounds was in the collection—the catalogue said it was shelved in the New Books section, the most visible place in the library, but was presently checked out. Two copies of Laika were on order for the children’s section. All-Star Superman was not to be found on the shelf or the catalogue, but Alice in Sunderland was on the shelf, a bit battered, which means people have actually read it—or at least checked it out. I felt like I was achieving a minor victory when I walked out of the library with it, but, then, I’ve always had a giddy place in my heart for libraries. I was taking home a $30 hardbound book for nothing at all.
Obviously, my personal experience cannot stand in for everyone’s, but it did illuminate certain difficulties in finding graphic novels. The limitation of all three places was obvious: selection. There are excellent comic book stores out there, but if I were a consumer depending upon the only one in my city, I would have seen only a slim selection, with very little diversity in genre. I found several interesting books in Borders, but the store did not make an effort to keep the most critically acclaimed graphic novels in stock. Organization also makes comics less accessible. I question the difference Borders makes between graphic novels and other works of fiction by shelving them by title. This is understandable for franchise comics on which the creative team changes, but not as much for graphic novels like those on my list. And a shelf in the 741 section of the library’s nonfiction stacks is certainly not the best place for graphic novels. The varying formats of graphic novels do not make it easy for them to be attractively displayed, either. We—retailers of all stripes, libraries, publishers and readers who care to be advocates—still have much work to do. Expect to hear from people on the front lines of this work in future columns.
Meanwhile, I’m starting to see the thirteen BART stops to Comic Relief in Berkeley as a trip I’m more willing to make—in between those convention binges.
Jennifer de Guzman is editor-in-chief at the independent comics publisher SLG Publishing. She also writes fiction—mostly in prose, occasionally in comics—and holds an M.F.A. in literature and creative writing from San Jose State University.
