Comics blogger and underground murder cult leader Kevin Church has kicked up a kerfuffle with his post criticizing a comic shop’s e-mail newsletter for suggesting in a review that their customers “Not Buy” an upcoming issue of Astonishing X-Men.

Not buy. A retailer, in his newsletter to customers, is telling people to not buy a comic book before it hits stands. He’s telling them in advance that he doesn’t think they should spend their money at his shop, on this comic. This is the stupidest goddamn thing I’ve seen lately from an industry plagued with stupid goddamn things. I don’t want my bartender telling me that I’m drinking the wrong damn thing; I don’t want the clerk at the record store giving me shit because I’m buying some motherfucking Yanni; and I don’t want the guy who’s selling me my weekly comics fix to tell me to not buy a fucking X-Men comic.

I tend to wholeheartedly agree, as have others, but the comments thread has featured some guest appearances by folks who seem to think the “Not Buy” suggestion somehow actually makes GOOD BUSINESS SENSE.

Their argument seems to boil down to, “A negative review makes me trust my comic shop guy/gal more,” which of course leaves aside that from a marketing perspective, providing negative reviews of anything to your customer base makes no sense fundamentally, compared to providing positive reviews of stuff they may like, explaining WHY they may like it. For some reason, these forms of positive heads-up are dismissed out of hand as being too much like “marketing,” which YEP, they are, since that is marketing’s chief goal: TO SELL SHIT.

Anyway, that’s not what I wanted to talk about here; I’m more interested in the idea of “trusting” the person who sells me comics. Or more specifically, why?

Why do we need to like and trust the retailer who sells us comic books in the first place?

I’m not talking about liking the store itself, or the customer service; these are the baseline fundamentals that Alan David Doane has admirably underlined on more than one occasion. I’m thinking more of the ephemeral feeling I get from many comics fans (myself included) that their shop of choice must do more than provide the sensible retail fundamentals that any shop selling any item should offer.

I think comics fans are looking for Cheers.

They want a place “where everybody knows your name,” where you walk in and your “usual” (pull list) is ready and available, where they can commiserate on the vagaries and specifics of the art form and the industry, and where they get information they can “trust” on what is good and what is bad.

Furthermore, I think the primary reason BAD comic shops have been allowed to exist for so long is that in spite of their failings in the fundamentals of retail selling, they may offer that intangible Cheers vibe that keeps customers coming back, regardless of whether or not they wear deodorant, or vacuum the floor once in a while, or organize their wares in anything resembling a logical format.

I understand the mystique, on some level. When I was younger, I can remember thinking at times that “comic shop clerk” must be one of the coolest jobs on the planet. I’ve made retail decisions in the past myself based on whether the comic shop employees made good small talk or remembered my name. These days, I’ve actually worked geek retail many times at conventions, and am currently doing some freelance marketing for an online comics retailer, so most of the bloom has come off that particular rose.

Still, perhaps we all romanticize it a bit–the dashing young man in his faded Superman T-shirt and tattered jeans, unloading fresh comics every Wednesday onto the shelves, always there behind the counter to ring you up and offer words of encouragement or advice when needed, a modern-day Sam Malone in Buddy Holly glasses and an unfashionable ponytail.

We seem to forget that Sam Malone was more than just a bartender–he was an alcoholic, too.

This might be one distinction us comics fans need to make if we are to see any wholesale improvements on the retail side of things. Maybe we need to stop looking for unprofessional pals who can sell us comic books, and start demanding instead that our comics retailers provide the best RETAIL experience possible, even if we can’t take their advice on what to buy, what not to buy, and who to marry because they’re “salesmen.”

And on the retail side, maybe retailers who are also fans need to stop viewing their jobs as some kind of holy vocation and more as a business. I think many retailers already do, but as Kevin’s example points out, there are probably still too many alcoholics minding the bar in comics shops.

Until that changes, then as others have said, we do get the industry we deserve. All of us. Even Norm.