Perspectives on Continuity | The Quixotic DC Universe | My Methodology
Continuity. The word has different meanings in different contexts, ranging from cinema to politics. In our little subculture of comics fans and professionals, “continuity” refers to internal consistency between titles in a shared fictional universe. It’s also a bugaboo the very mention of which is enough to trigger another round of the long-ongoing, if informal and irresolvable, debate over its value and its vexations.
Says one side, It’s important to be consistent with what’s gone before (or at least offer a viable explanation for any changes). Says the other, I just want to read (or tell) a good story; what’s the difference if it contradicts another story told by someone else months or years ago?
Says the one, It’s all supposed to be part of the same shared reality. If you’re contributing to that reality, you should play by its rules, else how can readers sustain the infamous Willing Suspension of Disbelief necessary to enjoy any fiction? Says the other, Enjoy each tale on its own merits, letting it draw on what works and discard what doesn’t, and don’t blame one storyteller for the decisions or mistakes of another!
Says the one, What about characterization? How can we identify with the characters if their personalities change unexpectedly—not to mention their personal histories? Says the other, Times and tastes change. We have to keep up with what people enjoy reading today, not let characters stay mired in the past.
Good points, all. And ’round and ’round it goes, with little ground gained or lost.
The Allure of Constructed Reality
My own attitude toward continuity springs from a fairly straightforward (if subjective) fact: I like it. In fact, I find it downright fascinating, when used intelligently. While it’s true that rigid adherence to it can hobble a story, and we’ve all seen it happen, callous disregard for it has ruined far more stories in my experience. Strip it away, and what’s left is basically Archie Comics—which can work, on its own terms, but they’re limited terms.
I enjoy the very concept of a complex, ongoing fictional reality, whether the product of one creative vision or many. Such a milieu, as it builds over time, acquires layers of depth and verisimilitude that go beyond any single story, more closely approaching the richness of the experiential world, evoking and resonating with other tales in a way that offers the attentive reader an extra level of satisfaction. Examples abound throughout the whole range of modern fiction, from Tolkien’s Middle Earth to John LeCarre’s British spy “Circus,” from the Victorian London of Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes to the futuristic vision of Star Trek.
These imagined realities inspire a sense of creative participation, as well: in each of these instances and many more, writers and fans have leapt into the breach to fill in the gaps in the fictional world, expand its backstory and reconcile its inconsistencies—motivated by the sheer satisfaction of further exploring the intricate details of their favorite imaginary realms, justifying the suspension of disbelief by enhancing the illusion of reality. (The breadth and depth of the scholarship devoted to Holmes and to Trek, in particular, is nothing short of astonishing.)
In brief: intertextuality is fun!
Such shared fictional worlds perhaps reach their apotheosis in the comic-book universes (entire metaphysical cosmologies, actually) created over the years by comics’ two largest publishers, Marvel and DC. At the same time, however, these give rise to certain unavoidable difficulties, and hence the debate described above. The more complex such a Universe becomes, the more crucial it becomes to determine, What is canonical and what is apocryphal?—and the more difficult it becomes to answer that question, and adhere to the answer. It’s understandable why some writers and editors, if they’re confused or uninspired by what has gone before, might prefer the creative “freedom” of ignoring or revising it at will. Unfortunately, this exacerbates the problem for other storytellers trying to work within the same reality, and the reader is left to sort out the results.
Fortunately, although it’s a process not without its frustrations, there are some of us who enjoy sorting out the results.
For reasons as much sentimental and habitual as aesthetic, my favorite comic-book reality in which to while away time is the one published by DC. The company’s stable contains some of the most recognizable, even archetypal characters in modern fiction, occupying a wide variety of imaginative niches, all built on a rich foundation with decades of tradition. Your mileage may differ; but this is my essay, so that’s where I’ll focus the discussion. (Rest assured, though, Marvel continuity has plenty of complicated issues all its own.)
DC Comics as a corporate entity has repeatedly shown a disappointing tendency to try to “have it both ways” where continuity is concerned. Recognizing the appreciation for continuity among a significant segment of the market, particularly the long-time fans as opposed to casual readers, DC’s editorial powers-that-be have repeatedly expressed their desire to offer an integrated, consistent universe, to balance future innovation with respect for the past, and to improve editorial coordination so as to avoid confusion. The reality has seldom lived up to the rhetoric, however.
Editorial fiefdoms differ over the use of popular characters. Contradictory stories get told, with the results variously ignored, grudgingly apologized for, or defended—via an appeal to the other camp in the ongoing debate—as “creative freedom” in contrast to “fan obsessiveness.” Occasional efforts have been made to clean up the playing field retroactively and (almost literally) reset the clock, most notably in 1985’s Crisis on Infinite Earths mini-series and its 1994 sequel Zero Hour, but these also open the door to future confusion as writers and editors, in this era of retcons and reboots, face the same question anew with respect to each bit of established history: incorporate it? revise it? or ignore it completely? The answers they choose too often seem completely arbitrary. At the end of the day, in the years since it “fixed” its universe, DC Comics has done a lot to leave everyone soundly confused about its characters and their history.
Time and Timelessness
Perhaps the deepest source of these editorial schisms, and another way these “solutions” carry the seeds of future problems, lies in the treatment of the passage of time. There’s an apparent editorial insistence that DC’s most prominent characters remain in some vague state of eternal youth, even while appearing in stories allegedly set in the contemporary, here-and-now world… and this seems to arise not so much from any storytelling need as from the merchandising value the characters have in the mass market, above and beyond the stories in which they appear.
Yet nothing is really gained by trying to keep these characters younger than logic and plausibility allow, and it may actually be counter-productive. Taken to extremes, it not only interferes with readers’ suspension of disbelief, it can actually obstruct the characters’ basic mythic appeal. (Certainly no other entertainment medium—movies, TV, music... never mind prose!—deludes itself into thinking that audiences are only interested in stars or characters their own age.) One of my favorite passages on the subject is found in Alan Moore’s introduction to the collected Dark Knight saga (itself a classic example of well-done character aging): “[There is an] element without which all true legends are incomplete and yet which for some reason hardly seems to exist in the world depicted in the average comic book, and that element is time. All of our best and oldest legends recognize that time passes and that people grow old and die. …In comic books, however, given the commercial fact that a given character will still have to sell to a given audience in ten years’ time, these elements are missing. The characters remain in [a] perpetual limbo."
In actuality this frustrating “commercial fact” applies only to a handful of characters, primarily the “Big Three”—Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman, for whom merchandising concerns dictate that they at least appear to remain in their prime—but DC’s powers-that-be have let it color all their decisions. Yet logically, given the unique nature of the characters, there seems no good reason this concern couldn’t be dealt with within the context of the stories (Superman is an alien; Diana is an immortal Amazon; even the “realistic” Batman was magically healed from a broken back in a major storyline, and has been exposed to a Lazarus Pit…); no reason these key characters can’t be kept seemingly youthful despite the passage of time, rather than by compressing and distorting past events, and losing any semblance of a grounding in the real world for all of DC’s characters.
Meanwhile other less-recognizable characters do age in real time, or more often at their writers’ whims, and irreconcilable contradictions inevitably arise. (Stand-alone series set in past or future eras, such as Sandman Mystery Theater or Legion of Super-Heroes, have been a notable exception; they can of course move through time at whatever rate the writer finds convenient, without interfering with internal consistency.) DC’s characters have a rich history, much of it deeply rooted in the times from which they variously sprang… but acknowledgement of those times is relentlessly and deliberately set aside for reasons driven by ill-thought-out marketing assumptions.
(Where marketing is concerned, there are also those who argue that given the comics’ industry’s current readership troubles, “shared universes” and the issues they bring with them should be abandoned entirely in favor of some new publishing model. I think that’s overstating the case. There’s room enough for everybody’s tastes; new kinds and formats of comics are great, but shared universes are enjoyed by much of comics’ most loyal reader base, and have clearly shown wide appeal in other media as well. The sense of ongoing history invests characters and events with a weight and resonance that new creations can seldom match.)
Untimely Timelines
Surprisingly, in light of all these complications, over time most of DC’s post-Crisis (and post-Zero Hour) stories actually do fit together into an integrated whole with a reasonably consistent framework. It’s just not the framework offered up by DC in its “official” Timeline(s), as found in ZH and in numerous Secret Files issues.
A token effort like the “official” DC Universe Timeline published in Zero Hour #0 (and most recently upgraded in Guide to the DCU 2000 Secret Files #1) is on its face rendered both implausible and obsolete. Implausible, because it attempts to squeeze decades’ worth of stories from the Silver Age to the present into an absurd and arbitrary span of time, without regard for the original settings, the internal logic, or any sense of proportion—thus undermining itself, defying the need for believable continuity in the midst of an ostensible attempt to serve it. Obsolete, because it cannot remain constant; this is admitted even on the surface by the fact that events after World War II are described only in relative terms, as “(x) years ago,” rather than by real dates. The essential problem was clear from the start: the edict, from wherever it derived, that all events from Superman’s debut to the present must fit into a ten-year span. This “decade decree” simply defied too much evidence from too many stories. It further underscored the sense of instant obsolescence by creating an inevitable need to pack even more events retroactively into that same span—as demonstrated by the fact that character-specific timelines presented in subsequent Secret Files specials don’t entirely match the “master” one in Zero Hour, let alone each other (flagrantly enough to result in the recent grudging extension to twelve years in DCU2KSF, to accommodate more recent events, beyond the “decade” capped by ZH).
But we as readers and fans, outside the corporate hierarchy, are not bound by market-driven editorial dictates. We ourselves are the “given market” described by Moore, supposedly motivating these policies; and we have the freedom to consider a more thoughtful and logical approach. Let us set aside the objections of those who charge it’s pointless from the start to try to reconcile the background details of a fantasy universe that’s never been fully consistent anyway; if you find, as I do, that it enhances your enjoyment of the stories set in that universe, then it’s a mental exercise that’s worth the challenge. And, just perhaps, it can provide a more solid foundation of continuity upon which future stories can build.
I am an unapologetic advocate of “real time” continuity for comics alleged to take place in the present day. It has the virtues of logic and simplicity, not to mention historical consistency, and over the course of time would make it easy for DC to offer a multi-generational spectrum of characters designed to appeal to the interests of a wider range of readers. (From a strictly emotional point of view, many readers do seem comfortable with the idea that Superman as the foremost hero of his generation should have a few years’ seniority on most of his peers and successors, for example, or that Batman may gradually move past his physical peak.) I had hoped at the time of the Crisis that DC, having set straight its past, would forge into the future with events unfolding in real time, letting characters age accordingly… but clearly that did not come to pass.
Fan opinion admittedly remains divided, along the broad lines discussed above. Still, countless discussions with other fans in person, in print, and online about these matters appear to have produced some points on which there is a provisional consensus, as follows:
We prefer a world where (at the very least) the characters’ collective past is known, and where the sequence in which events followed one another remains consistent, rather than malleable.
We prefer a world where characters are allowed to grow and change in ways that mirror real life: aging, graduating, shifting careers and relationships, “passing the torch” of heroic identities, etc
We prefer a world where characters who have their foundations in a specific historical era (World War II, the ’60s, whatever) are allowed to retain those foundations, rather than being “uprooted"—recognizing that certain characters simply work best in a period milieu.
Notwithstanding the previous two points, we acknowledge that certain “iconic” characters (most notably Superman and Batman) may need to remain in a quasi-ageless “prime” regardless of the story’s period. This obviously may be as much for marketing as for story reasons, as noted above, but it’s a consideration nevertheless. However, many of us think that this can be better handled by explanations within the stories, rather than by “logically fuzzy” treatments of the passage of time that affect the entire shared universe.
Whatever other disagreements we may have on details, none of us think that DC’s current approach of almost Orwellian revisionism, with multilayered retcons and overly-compressed timelines ladled with inconsistencies, is a satisfactory solution to the problems raised by these issues.
What course to take, then, in the quest to set down a more credible history of the DC Universe, to uncloak that “integrated whole” posited above? Possessed of at least one luxury denied DC’s versions—namely, ample space to explain my reasoning—I gamely venture forth into the breach.
At the start, it helps to recognize that DCU history can be broken down into several discrete periods. From the beginning of time to the 1930s, and again through to the end of the Golden Age (approximately 1951), things have remained (relatively) consistent, and much of the dating can be tied to actual historical events. From that point to the debut of Superman things are rather haphazard, the period growing simultaneously both longer and emptier, as the Silver Age “slides forward.” The Silver Age itself, which I’ll define for convenience as the period from Superman’s debut up to the Crisis (as that event was experienced in the current reality, without its “Infinite Earths” aspect), has suffered from the most compression and distortion—and it’s the trickiest to figure out how to set right, since the original narratives no longer apply, and the only reliable information comes from post-Crisis flashbacks, recaps, or retellings, not all of which fit neatly together (to understate tremendously). Then there’s the modern era, from the Crisis to Zero Hour, which DC appears to have compressed (according to ZH itself) by approximately a 2:1 ratio—not my preference, but it can be made to work—and from Zero Hour on to the present, the period with which the Secret Files timelines have so much difficulty. Finally there’s the future, both near and distant, with its own unique problems.
Taken as a whole, the ZH Timeline is at best marginally useful, and its successors are usually worse. They’re sometimes an appropriate source for the sequence of events, and they’re frequently reliable when giving actual calendar dates (if only occasionally so when dating relative to ZH itself)—if and when more compelling evidence doesn’t contradict them. They’re also a starting point for determining what past events are still canonical in the current reality (the JLASF and TitansSF timelines are particularly useful in this regard, for finally re-establishing many past events as valid parts of the teams’ histories, if not for their dating). Nevertheless, DC’s “official” timelines are still laden with problems, paradoxes, and unanswered questions.
Most troublingly, the ZH Timeline (reasserted, with minor variations, in DCU2KSF) compresses the whole Silver Age period into slightly less than seven years, due to the constraints of the “decade decree.” That simply won’t do... there’s far too much evidence to the contrary.
Furthermore, DC’s timelines suffer from an unavoidable limitation of the format: they’re too brief, listing only very major characters and events. The rest remains ambiguous. True, DC has said (via Waverider, in ZH #0) that history was rebuilt in “the pattern we remember… with subtle differences.” If so, then as noted we should assume events happened as related in the post-Crisis continuity, unless and until we’re told otherwise… yet DC’s timelines, if taken at face value, make this impossible. They often flatly contradict information from even the most recent stories, even when those stories are otherwise mutually consistent.
This plants the seeds of confusion: how is one to fill the lacunae? Do items not shown belong in the revised history, or not? If so, given that many events are listed in a different order than originally chronicled, the question becomes, When do those items belong?
The logical ground rules I’ve worked out to answer these questions rank sources in the following order of priority:
Paramount, of course, is information appearing in actual comics published by DC since Crisis. Allegedly all post-Crisis stories should be canonical, but unsurprisingly this is impossible. However, I try not to assume established information has become invalid unless it’s been unambiguously contradicted.
Where conflicts do arise, then, all else being equal, post-ZH accounts trump earlier ones.
Where inconsistencies exist as between stories of similar vintage, I place priority::
first, upon the account most consistent with the weight of evidence from other stories;
if there is no such preponderance, then upon the version by the primary writer(s) of the character or concept; and
if that’s not a factor, upon the most recent account.
Finally, where no canonical comics-based evidence is available at all, material from the published timelines, stories published pre-Crisis, interviews and articles, Mayfair DC Heroes and West End DCURPG game sourcebooks, letter columns, and common fan speculation can all be treated as provisionally valid, subject of course to being confirmed or overturned by an actual story.
I can, as a broad guideline, grudgingly accept the goal of keeping the characters as young as logically possible (notwithstanding my preference for real-time aging, as discussed above); and likewise, it’s usually reasonable to place ambiguous events at the most recent possible dates. However, I do use real dates, for the sake of clarity and simplicity, rather than the sliding “X Years Ago” format.
Examining the evidence as described above, several different sources combine to indicate that, in fact, at least eleven years (not six or seven) passed from Superman’s debut to the Crisis. The rest of the timeline extends forward and back from this crucial hub. (For more details, see Section IV: The Silver Age.)
For history up to the point of the Crisis, I’ve tried to indicate everything that’s been re-established as canonical; post-Crisis, I’ve stuck to more significant “milestone” events between which others can be interpolated, though that’s a judgement call. Events and characters I deem particularly notable are highlighted in bold.
References should be fairly self-explanatory. Any item with a ZH citation, by itself or in addition to other sources, appears in DC’s “official” Ur-Timeline in Zero Hour #0. If the citation also carries an asterisk—ZH*—that indicates the item appears in DC’s Timeline, but has been repositioned (relative to ZH) for this Chronology. I have tried to resist making any changes that aren’t specifically necessary, however. All other entries (the pronounced majority) are based on evidence external to ZH.
In each section, I’ve indicated the full title of a series at its first citation, but most are abbreviated thereafter (see the Title Abbreviation Key in Section VIII). The first time a specific issue is referenced within a section, I’ve included the cover date of original publication—e.g., Superman #1 <1.87>; thereafter, the date will be omitted to save space. All citations are to the current or most recent run of a series, unless a volume number indicates otherwise. If a citation appears in parentheses—e.g., (B&B #28 <2-3.60>)—that indicates the source is pre-Crisis or otherwise unofficial; I’ve tried to provide both current and “historical” citations when possible and relevant. (Some characters have had their origins retold multiple times since the Crisis, often with variations in the details; I’ve tried to cite all iterations.) The rare events with no known post-Crisis sources are judgement calls, once again; they help flesh out the overall history, and aren’t specifically precluded, but also aren’t strictly necessary to current continuity, and may therefore be more subject to revision at some later date.
If all this ain’t quite your cuppa tea… well, I probably lost you back at the beginning anyway. But if this is something you find interesting, it can lead to endless hours of fascination and mental exercise—akin to solving a jigsaw puzzle, or a crossword, or a detective story, or even to puzzling over the unanswered questions of real-world history.
I’ve done my best to explain any reasoning and/or source material that isn’t blatantly obvious. I welcome corrections, clarifications, and any other helpful input, especially wherever you see a question mark (?) signaling incomplete information. Moreover, I also welcome any critique that challenges me to rethink my assumptions and defend my reasoning—after all, if you’re the sort who enjoys this, you’ve likely got a nit or two to pick with my methodology or conclusions… or if you don’t understand what all the fuss is about, perhaps you have a different opinion, on a more fundamental level, about how and why we enjoy fiction and comics in particular. Go ahead! Let the debate go on! Just e-mail me at cjm@smartmemes.com.
Herewith, then: my attempt to set the record straight, and lay out DC’s history as clearly and coherently as possible, as DC itself has actually chronicled it.
Home | Introduction | Section I: In the Beginning | Section II: The Golden Age | Section III: The Quiet Years | Section IV: The Silver Age | Section V: The Modern Age | Section VI: The Future | Section VII: You Say It’s Your Birthday | Section VIII: Title Key, Acknowledgements, and Links | Contact Me | SmartMemes.com Home Page
Last updated 05/24/2006.