'What if...' comic enters real realm

All Things Literary

Back in my comic book collecting days — when life seemed as pristine as any 32-page magazine sealed in the timeless air lock of its plastic, cardboard-backed case — there was one book on the racks at my local comic book store that I would pick up frequently and browse through before being told by the owner that his store was not a library.

The book was a Marvel comic called "What If … ," a series that took common superheroes and villains and immersed them in hypothetical situations that ranged from the intriguing to the ridiculous. Such classic premises included "What If … The X-Men Died on Their First Mission" (Issue 9), "What If … The Hulk Killed Wolverine" (Issue 50) and "What If … Spider-Man Became a Murderer" (Issue 72).

Whatever line awaited the three crucial dots of the ellipses after "What If …," the reader was guaranteed paneled illustrations of a universe completely different from the one visited in the previous month's issue. These individual comics were like alternate strands of existence that broke away from the norm and fizzled for a while before dissolving into nothingness. And sometimes I find myself asking the same question the writers at Marvel Comics once posed to their cadre of pop culture icons: "What If? …"

What if I wasn't so involved with reading, with writing, with — you guessed it — all things literary? How would things be different? Would they be different? If an alter ego from another dimension happened to show up at my door one day — having made the inter-dimensional trip with the aid of the Silver Surfer — would we get along like brothers or end up at each other's throats like bitter enemies? In the comic book, this issue would no doubt be titled in large, jagged lettering: "What If … Zak Never Appreciated Reading and Writing?"

The changes seem endless — a tortuous double helix of possibilities that promises nothing but mid-life crises and dark, lonely nights. Maybe I would be more outgoing and more social. Spending a lot of one's developmental years behind the twin flaps of a comic book, novel or magazine doesn't necessarily lend itself to active community involvement. After all, if I'm having so much fun in all these exciting imaginative lives and experiences, why on earth would I care to participate in my own?

I wonder what this alternate Zak's interests would be — his line of study at college. He probably would be spending much more of his academic career across the Interstate on the other end of campus instead of living his college days among the liberal arts buildings, tucked away in some barely-lit niche in Carrier Library.

It's tempting sometimes to wish away the banes that come along with being a writer — how wonderful it would be to float through life without dwelling on the unnoticed and the insignificant. In every writer's mind is a window that allows him or her to see the world in a way that no one else does, to be able to sense the hidden frequencies on which the world operates. It is an alluring idea to step away from the desk, slam the window shut — board up the panes and seal the whole mess with duct tape for good measure — and live life at face value.

It would be refreshing not to be sensitive to the sorrows and joys of the great human drama, to see a bird, a sunset or a crowded park and enjoy it for what it is instead of analyzing and eliciting hidden meanings and morals.

The alternative Zak, who dwells in this particular comic book, would be devoid of the desire for analysis that accompanies a life spent reading and writing. He wouldn't care if the secret meanings are there or not. He believes that ignorance, above all other things, is sweet and merciful bliss.
I would be lying if I ended this column with some hopeful and supportive comment undermining everything previously written, like, "I know, however, that I have made the better choice …" or "All things considered, I know that a life spent reading and writing is the life for me. …" I do have doubts every now and then.

The more I journey into the misty land of "What If …," the harder it becomes to leave such thoughts behind, to step away from analyzing the alternate life of my comic book opposite.