Those Marvel paperbacks were great. I bought all that I could find.
Spiderman Volumes 1-3, Hulk 1-2, Fantastic Four 1, Doctor Strange 1, and Conan 1-2. The early issues of those comics by Stan Lee, Steve Ditko, Jack Kirby, Roy Thomas, and Barry Windsor-Smith held a lot of charm.
The paperback in the lower right corner is a collection of short text stories by different authors about Marvel Heroes: Avengers by Jim Shooter, Daredevil by Kyle Christopher, X-Men by Mary Jo Duffy, and Hulk by Len Wein.
Shooter's Avengers story is great. Here's an excerpt:
Thor strode majestically into the room, and at once dominated it. He stood six feet six but seemed taller. Powerfully built, he was physical perfection itself, on a far grander scale than Captain America. If the star-spangled Avenger was first among men, Thor was first among gods. Long golden hair flowed out from under his winged helmet, falling with artless grace around a handsome subtly sculpted face that evinced strength, nobility, pride, supreme confidence, gentleness, and compassion. His countenance would be dark and terrible in rage, the epitomy of joy in laughter. His eyes, brilliant blue, far outshone even Hawkeye's. He wore a deep-blue tunic that left his mighty arms bare, except for crimson wristbands. Cross-strapped leather boots rose almost to his knees, and snug deep-blue breeches covered his muscular legs. A full, flowing, crimson cape billowed behind him.
In his right hand he bore his war hammer, called Mjolnir. Though it looked ponderously heavy, Thor carried it easily, gripping it in the middle of its thick, two-foot, leather-bound handle. A stout leather thong hung from the end of the handle. The head of the hammer was rectangular, with beveled edges on the striking surfaces. It was made of a dull, gray ordinary-looking metal that might have been steel. In fact, however, it was Uru, a metal unknown on Earth. Far from being the simple weapon it appeared to be, the hammer was an instrument of awesome power, for it was laden with enchantment. Thrown, it struck with unimaginable force, each time returning unerringly to its master's hand. To possess it was to gain command over the elements, to rule the fury of the storm. And, since the day that dwarfish smiths forged it in a furnace roaring with white-hot mystic fire, none could possess it, none could lift it save he who had first lifted it, he who alone was worthy of its power--Thor, the Mighty, Prince of Asgard, son of Odin.
Thor, the Avenger.
Though the others had often seen his virtually limitless might demonstrated, though all had heard from his own lips the truth, not one truly believed that Thor had walked the Earth when the race of Man was young. Not one truly believed he was an immortal god, or even privately acknowledged the existence of a superior, mystic, godlike race from an extra-dimensional Golden Realm called Asgard. Yet, none could truly deny that his mere presence was awesome.
"How came this to be, that Ultron hath taken captive the Scarlet Witch?" Thor asked.
Ooh, I wish you all could read the entire story--it's so good!
The book was published in 1979, back when Shooter wrote the monthly Avengers comic, illustrated by George Perez. *sigh* A high point in the Avengers series.
A few years ago, when I first heard Marvel Pictures was making an Avengers movie, I remembered Shooter's text story and thought, "They should use it for the basis of the movie."
And now, little more than a month away, Avengers 2 will open in the U.S. pitting the team against Ultron--woo hoo! What a great time to be alive!
Todo
