"To Have Loved...And Lost!"

By now, you may have noticed that among the many Marvel tales you've come across in this humble blog, the PPC has been known to be partial to those stories written by Roger Stern; and, if we were to narrow that focus further, a number of Doctor Strange stories would be singled out. And so it may have occurred to you that by this time there simply can't be any more gold to mine from that particular deposit. Au contraire, mes amis. In a tale from late 1982, we come across the Master of the Mystic Arts in one of his darkest hours, a crushing of his spirit from which there seems to be no escape.

Yet the cause is not a crisis which mushroomed beyond his control, or a foe who outmaneuvered or otherwise brought him to the brink of defeat, but rather the onset of a broken heart following the sudden departure of his disciple and longtime love, Clea--who left Strange in part because of her persistent feeling that she is out of place on our world, but also because she has recently become aware that her love for him is lacking in comparison to another woman who has come to mean something to him.

Clea speaks of Morgana Blessing, a writer whom Strange believes has some latent mystic ability, but who unfortunately became involved in a conflict between Strange and Baron Mordo that caused a part of her soul to begin travelling back to Earth's past.  Strange was ultimately successful in retrieving the "soul shard"--but obviously the situation has had a profound effect on Clea.

As the driving force of this story, and with all due respect to Mr. Stern, I can't help but agree with Strange as to Clea's rationale here: her reasons do sound like "rubbish," as well as noticeably contrived, perhaps as a way to pivot Strange in a new direction that would have him once again flying solo in his book rather than splitting the attention he alone should be receiving with another mystic who must always be taken into account. Yet I should qualify that criticism by adding the observation that I agree it's the right call to make; after all, the fact that Clea is Strange's disciple means that by definition she would be with the book indefinitely and would thus factor into nearly all of the story plots in one way or another. That begs an important question: How many readers want to read "The Adventures of Dr. Strange and Clea"? Show of hands? I'm one of those on board with the decision to eject her; my only objection is that the justification for it comes off as flimsy. A broken heart has admittedly been used as a plot device to effect change in other books; Fantastic Four comes to mind, where Crystal breaks with Johnny Storm, and Reed was certainly down in the dumps following his separation from Sue. But in neither of those situations did the people involved appear to fumble for excuses to the extent that Clea does here (unless you count Sue's off-the-cuff reasoning for returning to Reed).

All of that said, the situation does little to blunt the quality of this story, if we accept Strange's anguish as genuine (Clea had been with him for a very long time, after all, going all the way back to the original Strange Tales). And even the Sorcerer Supreme is vulnerable to the depths of despair suffered by the ordinary man when a loved one departs for good.

As we'll find, this story is above the norm (and out of the ordinary) in a number of respects, even for a Doctor Strange tale--but right away there's an indication of something exceptional to be found here with the inclusion of artist Michael Golden, whose work at Marvel is sparse (that is if you weren't a Micronauts reader) but has been both notable and well received. Teamed with inker Terry Austin, and with Stern at the helm, we might be witness to one of this series' most memorable and creative installments.

Having already spent the previous issue bemoaning his state of loss, we find Strange now fully immersed in his grief, while his staff--his manservant, Wong, and his secretary, Sara Wolfe--are unable to console him. Nor is Strange having that much luck in that department himself, as mired in self-pity and anger as he is. But help of a sort is waiting in the wings--that, or something of a more coercive nature.

"I am aware of who and what you are." One of the best lines of dialog in this story from someone we'd expect to speak with such authority--but as we'll discover, not an informed deduction on Strange's part.

It's a rare pleasure when other mystics of some renown appear in Strange's book and interact with him to any degree. Dakimh (the Enchanter), an eccentric wizard known to those of you who read issues of Man-Thing, will fit the nature of this story perfectly--and you'll find that unceremoniously making off with Strange's astral form is only the tip of the iceberg in that regard.

At first, Dakimh's approach is two-pronged to fit the parameters of Strange's "wish"--first, to convince him that he's dead, by showing how one event that shaped his life as a sorcerer happened differently than the way he remembered...

But more engaging for the reader is Dakimh's attempt to grant Strange's desire as far as never having learned the ways of magic, not by having his life take a different course so much as purporting the notion that Strange has deluded himself into believing all these years that he is the embodiment of nothing more than a movie character, a delusion that has brought him to the brink of insanity.

It's not the first time that others have tried to deceive Strange in such a manner--Agamotto, the "caterpillar"... Eternity (in his dream state)... Nightmare... and Death, to name a few--in fact, at this point it's fair to wonder how someone like Strange can continue to have the wool pulled over his eyes like this. Sooner or later in such instances, of course, he breaks free of the deceit or otherwise figures it all out, but it seems well past having become trite.

Nevertheless, Dakimh apparently sees some measure of success here by way of Strange's reactions to what he's been shown--so it only makes sense (if one can even apply the word amid all of this) for him to keep changing the setting to further confound Strange. Though when he does so next*, he also takes a slightly different tack with Strange by not only reinforcing the fact that the identity which "Stephen" has chosen is not real, but by also proposing that the same holds true for all that he sees and hears. And it is nearly the final straw for our hapless sorcerer.

*"Les Tane" and "Ted Tevoski" being anagrams for Stan Lee and Steve Ditko, respectively. (How many of you noticed?)

It's tempting to assume that, with his continued emphasis on reality and unreality, "Dakimh" is actually Agamotto, up to his old tricks. But while that's not the case, his presentations have nevertheless brought Strange to the verge of madness and made him susceptible to suggestion.  Yet who is really behind all this?

Up until now, we had the luxury of thinking that this character might indeed be Dakimh, whose ultimate agenda with Strange is yet to be revealed; yet given the dark turn he now takes, there is no doubt that there is some other force at work here, one that must be exposed if Strange is to have any hope of bringing himself back from the pit of despondency he has fallen into.

It's a made-for-TV (or film, for that matter) moment by Stern and Golden, tailored to capitalize on the climactic turning point of any work of fiction which has reached the stage of its principal character reasserting him/herself and rising to confront whatever or whoever has led them to this point. And we could have no better antagonist than D'Spayre, whose power stems from the level of (say it with me) despair and hopelessness of his victim. In Strange, he's no doubt snared the prey of a lifetime, much like the demon Mephisto must have regarded the Silver Surfer in his efforts to capture the Surfer's soul.

And now, with his power at its ebb and his ability to wage a fight in question, Strange knows that the battle for his soul has begun in earnest--and if he cannot salvage his will and resistance, it may be his final battle.

D'Spayre unquestionably has the advantage thus far, and any observer could safely say at this point that it's his fight to lose. Indeed, the tactic he next employs--using the threat of the N'Garai, an ancient enemy that Strange believed he'd vanquished, to instill greater fear and doubt in his victim--is arguably the right call to make, given the likelihood of causing Strange to feel even more despair than he does at present. Instead, Strange realizes that what appears to be real is instead a ploy--and, drawing strength from that knowledge, he resolutely prepares to bring about D'Spayre's final moments in his presence.

But it's D'Spayre's final gambit which truly seals this monster's doom.

Clearly, Strange has finally turned the page to his grief, as he earlier declared aloud. And yes, perhaps two issues focusing on Clea's departure was one issue too many, with this particular story being more than sufficient--but Strange's words following the battle ("It is over... it is done!") resonated beyond their intended meaning all the way to the final panel, and helped to bring closure to the departure of a character who it never seemed was developed to her full potential in spite of efforts to the contrary.

COMING UP:

Eighteen months earlier, was Stern already laying the groundwork for Clea's exit?

We'll see what you think on the subject.

Doctor Strange #55 Script: Roger Stern Pencils: Michael Golden Inks: Terry Austin Letterer: Jim Novak