“I wonder If Anybody’s Ever Been Fired from the Avengers Before”
In this second volume, Clint Barton aka Hawkeye struggles with personal and professional/super-heroic issues that don’t differ all that much from those he experienced in the first volume, yet the storytelling felt less organic to me this time around. Tone, style and even content change rapidly from one page to the next in places, partly as a result of fill-in artwork. I also didn't find this second volume as funny as the first one, and so I eventually found myself wondering: Why does everybody love Clint Barton so much? Could the success of the series have more to do with its updated hero concept than with anything else?
Let’s see, Clint Barton gets pushed around and exploited a lot (“I need your help again.”), lacks “job” security (“I wonder if anybody’s ever been fired from the Avengers before.”), lives in a dinky apartment (“Who still has an answering machine?”), likes to watch TV (“Gaah spoilers spoilers shut up. I got the whole season on this DVR at home.”), has no interest in political economy (“I don’t know anything about Wall Street.”) and generally lives what he refers to as a “car-crash life.” It's a scenario, in short, that probably does not feel all that far-fetched to many young people these days.
And yet Clint Barton is clearly awesome, isn’t he? He’s athletic, handsome, funny, charming, fights crime, rescues a dog, does good in the community, and beautiful women fall for him left and right (even if he is unaware of it and “the thought of a serious relationship makes [him] nervous”). When it comes to problems, humor takes the edge off, and we are given no reason to believe that the world of Wall Street Clint Barton knows nothing about could have anything to do with them. In fact, the only people who shout “We! Are! The ninety-nine percent!” in this book are terrorists. And fear not, true believer, the Avengers and a reliable police force quickly arrest those troublemakers: “No you aren’t. Shut up. Gahhd.”
Bottom line: Hawkeye's hero concept is designed as wish-fulfillment personified for increasingly marginalized young North Americans who already grew up in a largely corporate-controlled environment that promotes commercial culture over political awareness, and whose suicide rates have increased four- to five-fold since the 1960s. To troubled young men in particular, the series sends the reassuring, apathy-inducing message: You may hold very little political and economic power, but don’t you worry your little heads about that—you can still be “real men.” Just, you know, learn to roll with the punches, put on a few tough-looking band aids, be a good sport, develop a pacifying sense of gallows humor, keep watching TV, and for God's sake don't even think about rocking the boat! You'll see, everybody will love you for it: It's the new brand of masculinity!
Anyway, that's my attempt to make sense of the Hawkeye phenomenon, and you’ve probably gathered from the previous paragraphs that I’m not a fan. I realize not many (none?) of you share my ideological concerns, but I think they are a big part of what has prevented me from enjoying the series as much as everybody else.
PS: I did enjoy this volume’s final issue which is narrated from the perspective of a dog and manages to be both sweet and a little artsy.