Uncanny X-Men #11

I have fallen behind on my X-Men reading. I don't read all the X-Men titles, but I do try to stay abreast of Uncanny X-Men and All-New X-Men, both of which are written by the magisterial Brian Michael Bendis.

Uncanny X-Men tells the story of Scott Summers, Cyclops, and his efforts to piece together a school made up of renegade and new mutants in the aftermath of the Avengers vs. X-Men war -- AvX.

The catalyst of AvX  was the return of the Phoenix Force, which possessed Cyclops and other key X-Men and led not only to the death of Professor X (at the hands of his star pupil, Scott Summers) but also to the birth of an entire new generation of mutants.

Uncanny X-Men #11 accomplishes something that is the essence of the comic-book-reading experience, at least for me; it is one of the things that attracted me to comic books as a kid; and that is the experience of battle.

If you have every been in a street fight or bar brawl alongside a buddy, or if you have ever played team sports, or if you have ever participated in a protest that turned into an open conflict with law enforcement, this is a feeling that comic books convey better, more authentically and reliably, I think, than other media.

Take for instance the recent Hollywood X-Men blockbuster, X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014). Its $200-million budget and its many scenes of X-Men fighting to the death with Sentinels nowhere approach the power contained in the single issue of Uncanny X-Men #11.

In #11, both new and old X-Men take on a Blockbuster Sentinel that has mysteriously materialized on a Michigan-university campus where the X-Men had recently teleported to express their support for protesters.

Note the incredible artwork of Frazer Irving and Kris Anka. Is there any doubt that it is reminiscent of Balthus?

Magneto #3

Magneto is another title in the All-New Marvel NOW! series I've been gushing about this year. It has a The X-Files vibe to it, as Magneto, a.k.a. Holocaust survivor Max Eisenhardt (the character played by Michael Fassbender in the movies), drifts through a desolate America (accurately portrayed as a post-Great Recession fallout zone) ruthlessly rooting out plots to murder Mutants.

The art by Gabriel Hernandez Walta is perfect. It casts the mind's eye back to early Underground comix at the same time appearing sharp and fresh. Cullen Bunn is a journeyman writer who scripts a disciplined narrative.

What I take away from Magneto is that it is a story aimed at my generational cohort: middle-aged white men on their way to senior citizenry, alone and embittered -- that the world didn't align with the expectations of their bountiful youth. The Tea Party archetype.

I live in a neighborhood that attracts aspiring, educated young adults, the generational cohort I was a member of when I first landed here. At that time the neighborhood was more bohemian. But a steady current of gentrification razed the last Hippie house more than 15-years ago and has priced all the artsy types out as high-rise apartment buildings and condominiums have shot up along Broadway. Now, rather than the hard-partying Grunge rocker, it is the young professional with the well-scrubbed look of entitlement that populates the community.

I'm not complaining. The neighborhood is much more quiet today, despite the increased density, than it was a decade ago when Friday- and Saturday-night bacchanals were a common occurrence. I'm slightly out of place though because of my gray beard; I am something of an anachronism, like a dinosaur walking about in the age of mammals.

And that is part of the beauty that Bunn and Hernandez Walta (Javier Fernandez Barranco, who provides the art for several issues, as well) bring to Magneto -- a feeling of being out of place and out of one's time.

Below you will find scans of the cover to Magneto #3, art by Declan Shalvey, as well as ten interior pages, art by Gabriel Hernandez Walta; colors by Jordie Bellaire. Cullen Bunn has Magneto tracking down a secret government lab creating human-Sentinel cyborgs. Magneto, the Mutant master of magnetism, takes care of the deceptively attractive female scientist (who resembles the young professional women in my neighborhood) by inserting two paper clips under the skin of her arm.