EVERY YEAR from the nebulous end of february to SOME TIME IN JULY? we don't know! it's only year 2
you can join the DEEP HELL COMIC BOOK EXPLORERS CLUB and join us in multiple roundtable discussions where we all read a variety of comic books from all eras of comic history and learn to love again, to laugh really hard.
https://deep-hell.com/comic-book-explorers-club-24/
Are you enjoying issue 2 of Roots of the Swamp Thing? If not, you can easily do so on your computer or phone! Get in touch with the Comic Book Explorers club for details, or try out your local comic books store; I hear some good things about those.
What follows is an account of my experiences encountering Roots of the Swamp Thing along with my fellow Explorers and if you’re curious about comics, queer, or curious about being queer (while reading comics!), then I welcome you to join us! Consuming media isn’t radical action, but building community is! So without further ado, let us heed the call of the bayou on this moonless night, as we wade out into…
Monstrous Roots
If you hang out around freaks on the internet, you’re likely to have seen something of Alan Moore’s famous run on the comic. While Stephen Bisette and John Totleben are fantastic artists in their own right, the art of Bernie Wrightson on these first issues sets itself apart in one distinct way. This man could’ve been a monster fucker.
Wrightson looks out on the endless pages of xeroxed Charles Atlas’, each presuming to be the pinnacle of physical embodiment, and yet remains unstirred; seeks for something more. Wrightson has rightly identified the limits of biological destiny as nothing more than a false veil, cast over our eyes by some prudish demiurge. He tears through it and dares first, to gaze beyond and then, to truly imagine. What he realizes in the end is a body that has no choice but to confront both its wearer and society at large in a manner that is wholly antagonistic. As queer. As disabled. As utterly monstrous.
Yes, queer, girlies and gays. I’m fully aware of how well-trod the sympathetic monster is in queer literature, and you may even think that you know where this goes. But this is the swamp of the perverts, and you probably lost the way back about 5 turns ago. So why not follow me deeper, dear reader, and together we might find…
Monstrous Solidarity
But before we do, let’s have a quick break to check in on some things. Bug spray applied? Good. How’s your water? Here, have some of mine. Don’t worry, I packed an extra bottle. Your skin feels “scaly?” Well, I haven’t heard that one before, but I packed some lotion too. It’s in the back pocket.
While we’re stopped, I guess I can go over some boilerplate with you. Swamp Thing is a found cultural object, and as a result, it’s not exactly spotless as queer rep. There’s about the level of diverse representation you can expect with a main character named Alec Holland, and the few women that have been present so far have either died or been damselled as motivation for the main characters. All that said, you can do a lot worse for the 70’s, and on only the second issue, the comic has plenty of time to set itself right. And I think there’s a lot here if you’re willing to look past that to give it a chance.
OK, ready to go? Great.
To start, there’s the Swamp Thing itself, formerly the aforementioned Dr. Eric Holland. He was detained by the feds and forced to carry out research on a substance that accelerates plant growth at a remote site in Louisiana. Then, an explosion kills both him and his wife, knocking him into the swamp along with the plant growth agent. Thus, he is permanently transformed into the Swamp Thing. A mossy hunk of sinew and swamp flora which Wrightson will always strive to draw on-model, even as the overall quality of the art sometimes flags under impending deadlines.
Crucially, the Swamp Thing is not a costume or a reversible transformation. Between the explosion, and his federal handler seeing him and presuming him responsible for the two deaths, he is branded a fugitive and completely stripped of his old life; left with nothing but a grotesque and utterly alien body.
It’s monsters of all stripes that are at the heart of Swamp Thing, and one of its core themes is to look at how those branded as monsters can often show more humanity than allegedly normative human beings, and vice versa. In other words, the experience of being visibly queer. So what does that look like in the comic?
Treachery of The Body
In issue 2, we’re introduced to the Patched Man. Like Swamp Thing, he was mortally wounded in an explosion, only to be reconfigured in the grotesque manner his name would suggest. This was done to him against his will by his brother, a mad doctor, and also left him unable to speak. In this case, the same body that marks him as being monstrous to society also robs him of his voice. Furthermore, was then held captive in chains by his brother for untold years, and ultimately losing even his identity. That is until the fateful day an outside event allows for his escape.
Though the Patched Man is without voice in the comic, as readers, we’re able to follow his thoughts as he experiences freedom for the first time, from his first stirrings of consciousness. And what do we see there? In the mind of someone chained up like an animal because of the appearance of his body that he didn’t want. Boiling rage? Cold, vengeful intent? None of that. Just a single-minded drive to find and protect the young daughter that he left behind. All while looking like this.
Swamp Thing first encounters the Patched Man when the Patched Man catches him by the arm as he’s about to fall down a chasm. This brief episode ends when Swamp Thing’s slimy constitution causes his grip to slide off of him, but this unhesitating act of compassion toward the Swamp Thing takes on new meaning in their second encounter.
When they meet again, the Swamp Thing sees him carrying the unconscious body of his daughter to safety. And seeing this on the page, you might think it only natural that Swamp Thing should have an unfortunate misunderstanding of the situation. But is it? Bear in mind that the only two things that the Swamp Thing knows about The Patched Man are that he saved his life earlier, and what he looks like. And can you guess which piece of information he decides to act on?
This might seem like I’m trying to catch Swamp Thing in a Cinema Sins style gotcha, but in fact, it’s just the opposite. You see, up up ‘til now, the Swamp Thing has made it clear that he thinks of himself as just a temporarily embarrassed human; that if he just asserts his humanity, humankind will welcome him back with open arms. And the Patched Man? Well, he’s just a monster.
This too is reflected in the experience of being queer.
Monsters in a Bucket
I’m going to level with you for a second. Being queer is a raw fucking deal. People’s reactions to your body can range from mild discomfort to deciding you’re a pedophile and acting accordingly. And that’s only scratching the surface. The point is, some people, seeing how we make society uncomfortable, have devised a solution broadly referred to as “respectability politics.” As far as I know, this is an idea that goes back to the earliest struggles for black civil rights in the U.S.
The gist of it is that by erasing our queerness in various ways, queer people can appear more “respectable” and thereby gain widespread legitimacy in culture. That if we just ban kink at pride, or shove all the trans-women who don’t pass into a closet, that society will have to see whatever queer people are left as human. Once the village sees Swamp Thing curb stomp the real monster, they’ll see that he’s on their side and accept him. Never mind that the Patched Man was the only person who might’ve actually been willing to show him solidarity.
In the end, it takes an angry torch-wielding mob for Swamp Thing to to get the picture that to people intent on seeing a monster, him and the Patched Man are all exactly the same: Monsters. I just wish that it hadn’t taken the same thing for me to stop policing my own queerness and that of the people around me. But hey, if you tut-tut the out gay guy at your work enough, maybe they’ll give you a torch too?
Notes: This wasn't really written with my cohost audience in mind, which is why a lot of it is preaching to the choir about being queer and the insidiousness of respectability politics in that space. Cohost is where I got a better grasp of the mechanisms of respectability politics and if I can find that one really good chost thread about it, I'll update this with a link to it in the morning. Thank you for reading!