I think the most exciting thing that happened to me on the shores of Lake Ontario was strolling down Bronte pier hoping to find a hook-up for some weed. Nothing like what's going on in this comic. Because I'm missing a number of the early issues of the series, I'm not sure what the deal is with Marrina, aside from what I've read in her various Handbook entries - the nice thing is that this is a comic from the 1980s, which means it has an almost-ridiculous amount of recap every 4 pages or so. I always thought that this over-exposition was a symptom of Chris Claremont's writing, but Byrne partakes of it too, so maybe it was editorially required at the time. Either way, I get a "reminder" of previous events, and don't feel quite so lost.
There's a moment in this comic where Marrina finds a cavern beneath the waters of the lake, and as she makes her way down it, she becomes trapped as the passage narrows to a width too small for her to pass through.
I am quite claustrophobic. I hate being on elevators, and even an enthusiastic hug can make me uncomfortable at times. And every time (every time!) I see a seen like this, be it in comic, television, film, wherever, I have to squirm in my seat to get through it. I know it's an unreasonable fear (mostly), but there it is. It does bring up the interesting notion of the experiences we bring with our readings. Someone who doesn't feel this way about enclosed spaces would certainly not have the affective response to that scene that I did. It's one of the things I love the most about imaginative literatures, that there can never be a reading of them separate from the reader - a literary observer effect, perhaps (though I've been warned repeatedly away from conflations of literature and physics by some academics - I wonder why they fear novelty so much?).
Strangely, I'm not getting tired of Alpha Flight, after almost a whole week of reading. More tomorrow, then.
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