The lure of comics
When I was a child, comics were forbidden. My father would not allow them in the house.
But of course comics were hugely popular back then, and all my friends read them. And like forbidden fruit, reading them was all the sweeter for it being an illicit pleasure.
But it was risky. If Dad caught any of us kids with a comic, into the fire it went, no argument. It didn’t matter if the comic didn’t belong to us and had been borrowed from a friend — into the fire it went. We knew the rule.
Whenever a comic went into the fire, we’d have to save up our meagre and irregular pocket money to buy a replacement for the friend. Some of them didn’t mind; they read a comic once and never again, so they were happy to take the money and buy a new one. But the word spread and more and more friends were reluctant to lend us their comics.
Two comic-related triumphs stand out in my memory. One was the Christmas my mum’s sister gave me . .. gasp! . . a Fred Flintstone Annual. A book FULL of comics! And because it was a present, it was safe from the fire. How I loved that book.
The other event was even better. When we went to visit Dad’s older sister, it was usually very boring for me. I was a lot younger than my siblings and my cousins, and they being teenagers were allowed to go off in a group, unsupervised in the big city! But I being just a child had to stay back with the adults. Until one time, Aunty Bett, knowing I liked to read, said, “Why don’t you go into Michael’s room, dear, and read some of his books. He’s got plenty. They’re in the wardrobe.”
So I went, very reluctantly because my cousin Michael had never struck me as any kind of a reader, and I was sure his books would be as boring as. But, to my joy, I discovered that Aunty Bett was one of those people who called comics “books.”
My cousin’s wardrobe was piled high with comics, mostly Phantom comics, which were my favorites! Hundreds and hundreds of Phantom comics. Oh the joy! So I happily passed the day lying on Michael’s bed, reading Phantom comics, coming out only when I was called for lunch.
Of course, Dad had no idea. He thought I was reading books. So when we left, I was praised for not being a nuisance and entertaining myself quietly. And every visit after that, off I went to read Michael’s books. Such a good girl I was. LOL
It occurs to me now that my cousin could have sold that huge pile of Phantom comics for good money. He bought a new one every week, read it once and that was it. There were hundreds stacked up in his wardrobe, but when he left home, they were probably tossed in the rubbish.
Did you read comics when you were young? Which were your favorites?
