I love no one but you, I have discovered, but you are far away and I am here alone. Then this is my life and maybe, however unlikely, I’ll find my way back there. Or maybe, one day, I’ll settle for second best. And on that same day, hell will freeze over, the sun will burn out and the stars will fall from the sky.
Death in fiction is always a dramatic device, but in superhero comics it’s a particularly reversible one. That is how we as readers should understand it. We know that major characters will always come back, but we have to accept that the characters themselves cannot be sure of it. Thus death in superhero fiction has lower stakes than in many other genres (or in real life), but within the confines of any given story it’s still an ending. That’s its contextual value. It takes a character off the board. Death is not death, but a metaphor for loss, a vehicle for grief and anger that propels other characters to the finish line.
That, of course, is the core of “fridging”, the idea that a supporting character’s brutal death is only a device to motivate the hero. The trope too often manifests in the death of female love interests of straight male heroes, and is named for Alex DeWitt, a girlfriend of Green Lantern Kyle Rayner whose corpse was stuffed in a refrigerator. She has appeared post-mortem, yet remains dead.
Allow events to change you. You have to be willing to grow. Growth is different from something that happens to you. You produce it. You live it. The prerequisites for growth: the openness to experience events and the willingness to be changed by them.
I'm a theater producer. I just finished grad school (hello student loans, my new/old friend).
Sometimes I threaten to form a commune. I think about plays, and other types of performance, and the future of the arts. A lot.
I like music. I like comic books.
I like girls. I like extremes.
I jump in with both feet.