A little while ago, we fell in love with J Michael Straczynski’s Thor. And although JMS’s midpoint issue (midpoint on his run as regular writer on Thor and “momentous” anniversary issue that took the place of lead story in issue #600), “Victory,” was de-prioritized in that earlier Iconographies so that we could draw focus to the entire run, “Victory” does hold its own special place. So reading this Ico now, reading it as a way of retracing those same Thor pathways in prep for this review, maybe some penance is in order. Maybe it’s time to begin where we should have began those many years ago–with “Victory” itself, rather than “Victory” as a convivial jump-point to discuss JMS’s entire run.
When “Victory” rolled around it was a far darker, far headier time. Marvel mainstream superhero universe, Earth-616, was being helmed into the waters of delivering a very competent and very compelling fictive commentary & analysis on real world events. As America grew more and more disillusioned with two simultaneous wars, the encroaching of civil liberties, and a growing increase in the powers of the Executive Branch, Marvel responded with the “Dark Reign” event wherein villains usurped the role of heroes in their own books. While JMS’s Thor was one notable exception, it didn’t mean that Thor himself didn’t have to deal with “Dark Reign.”
“Victory” saw Thor deal with exactly that, saw him confront the Dark Avengers who had usurped his own beloved Avengers. In a battle to the death with an ancient Asgardian deity, Thor summons the Avengers, only to have the usurpers answer the call. The same usurpers who then proceed to engaging Thor himself as an enemy combatant. Of course Thor does eventually defeat the ancient Asgardian, but for him the real defeat is the loss of those deep bonds with not only the individuals he once prized as comrades-in-arms, but also with the institution of the Avengers that he himself helped build.
But of course times change.
Marvel itself has since undergone a redefinition editorially. It’s focus with the current Marvel NOW rebranding has shifted towards re-emphasizing the fictive of it’s imagined world. Commentary and analysis through fiction is no longer the order of the day. As well, Thor itself has undergone changes. First in the form of Invincible Iron Man superstar writer Matt Fraction taking the helm and telling space-viking style stories, and then with the book being rebooted entirely and Ghost Rider superstar writer Jason Aaron taking the helm.
With Aaron coming in, and with that opening storyarc “the God Butcher,” a new thematic became clear. What if Thor could be the vehicle for a different kind of Thor story, a story infused with a kind of postmodern “metadata” that examined the ways in which popculture became transitioned into high art? “The God Butcher,” was the perfect vehicle for that kind of fictive wrestling with the nature of popculture. It saw three Thors (the young Thor who feasted with Vikings, the present-day Avenger and the future Thor seated on the throne as All Father of Asgard) confront a single time-traveling foe.
Dealing with the God Butcher took all of two volumes of the nascent Thor: God of Thunder title; the first to describe the nature of the threat Gor the God Butcher represented, the second (Godbomb) to describe the arc of Gor’s plan. Issue #18, “Days of Wine and Dragons,” draws down the final curtain on the third volume of Thor: God of Thunder, and does so in a way that lends both credence and gravitas to the entire volume. “Days of Wine and Dragons” is the closing book standalone issue to third volume. Earlier, in “Once Upon a Time in Midgard,” we saw Thor revel in the life and complexity of the human world.
And in the centerpiece of the volume, the five-part storyarc “The Accursed,” we saw Thor take on a Walt Simonson-era bad guy, the former Lord of the Dark Elves, Malekith. But the real battle of the arc was uniting the disparate factions of the Nine Realms’ who had banded together to form an uneasy parliament. What Aaron achieved with this arc was nothing short of a masterpiece. Not only did he invert the difficult Teutonic politics of Peter Jackson’s vision of JRR Tolkien’s work, he also returned to the theme of Thor’s doubt at his own worth.
To find Shakespeare’s Henry V in Thor, a character who’s brash enough to invade a foreign country for nothing more than a personal insult and at the same time hardy enough to win against those impossible odds, is easy. Not to discredit the idea (after all it is the basis for the character)–there have been amazing and compelling Henry-Thors over the years. But to find a Hamlet-Thor at the heart of that character, one who doubts and ponders and ruminates, that puts Aaron in a unique category as Thor-scribe.
As coda to the best God of Thunder volume thus far, Aaron returns us to Viking-era Thor, and in it, places the question of Thor’s worthiness front and center. The Thor we confront is a younger, more wayward Thor, long before Whosoever…. “Days of Wine and Dragons” sees Thor encounter a young dragon who is almost the mirror of his own waywardness. A friendship ensues, but also one that’s founded in the defense of a town of Viking widows. When the young dragon’s waywardness threatens the town, the widows themselves take action.
What we see is very much what we have seen in every issue of Thor: God of Thunder thus far–our own prejudices towards Thor. In the closing battle of the issue, Thor tackles the young dragon (Skabgagg, he was named Skabgagg, and he was the son of Surtur, the Great Dragon, and a dragon of prophesy and he refused to be judged by those lowlier than himself). And the assumption is, it’s because fighting is all that Thor knows to do. Thor’s a hammer, we assume, to whom the entire world appears as a nail or series of nails.
But of course, Aaron’s genius lies in the very fact that Thor’s floor-tackling the young dragon was all he could think to do to prevent a painful and painfully obvious outcome. Aaron’s time-and-again tactic of used readers own assumptions against them, to elevate the complexity of Thor stands as a singular achievement and marks a subtle victory of reclaiming novelty in a well-worn character.