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As a comics lover, it doesn take much to catch my eye. When a school chum of mine brought in Giant Size X-Men no.1, I almost went into a state of shock. No comic prior to that one caught my attention the way that one did. It had that kinda United Nations feel to it. An African, a Scotsman, a German, etc. There was nothing not to like about the comic. The art would waver between being decent (Dave Cockcrum, John Byrne ), to excellent (Paul Smith, Jim Lee)


I was sold, hook, line, & sinker. The stories; from the Sentinels, to the Shiar. From Magneto, to the Brood, I was all in! Then without warning, I became disenfranchised with it. I’m not sure when. My best guess is it was either because of the art of Marc Silvestri (whose work, I love, now) or John Romita Jr., whose work. I never loved. In any regard, other than an issue here, or there, I hadn’t gone back to X-Men (with the exception of the Carlos Pacheco drawn issues) for any considerable length of time.


Fast forward to a couple of years ago. I’m feeling nostalgic, and l want to pick up on that feeling of wonderment again. So I purchase Essential X-Men, volume one. I get less than fifteen pages deep, when I think to myself; “I actually use to like this Shitzu?

The amount of exposition, was staggering. It read like a bad soap opera (oxy moron, I know) Needless to say, I had no fun travelling down memory lane. With fresh eyes I could see how ponderous Claremont’s writing was.

Though I was happy Marvel was bringing back Nightcrawler, when I saw Claremont’s name was attached, happiness turned to disinterest.

Undoubtedly history will smile favorably upon Claremont’s body of work, it’s just that…I’m not going to be one of the ones signing the petition.Image