What Stan Lee Means to Me

"I'm smiling because I'm in ALL the Marvel movies."

The passing of Stan Lee has left me thinking about his own influence on me as a writer and a human being. It seems odd to even write that last sentence because, while I am a scary librarian, Stan Lee is really anything but scary. In all the publicity photos I’ve ever seen of him, he’s always smiling. I don’t recall every seeing the man scowl, barely even a frown and those may have been frowns of concentration. Stan Lee and horror are as distant from each other as Duluth, Minnesota and Daytona Beach, Florida, both geographically and culturally distant. But Stan’s lessons, from teachers like the Hulk and Spider-Man, are still ones that I remember when reading or watching horror.

One horror movie I never plan on watching, for example, is The Human Centipede, largely because of what a human centipede actually entails, but also what is noted about the characters in that movie, which is nothing. When I read horror, I want to experience the terror, the trauma, through the protagonist’s eyes. If there’s gooseflesh on their arm, I want to have the same happen to me. Horror isn’t about being gross for grossness’ sake, but about actually feeling the uncomfortable feelings channeled through the hero of the story, and Stan Lee knew how to make heroes that were more than just men and women who chose to wear underwear as outerwear and who chose to fly so far above our heads.

Before I discovered horror, many of Stan Lee’s creations were my gateway to learning about the forging of the human spirit. The Hulk was the story of a man afraid to give in to his anger because his anger destroys everything. Sounds a lot like werewolves. Scientist Reed Richards pursues the unknown and risks his entire family, giving them superpowers but forever making placing them apart from the humanity they protect. Dr. Frankenstein, before his monster destroyed everything he loved, was metaphorically flying too close to the sun before Reed was trying it literally. One of my favorites is Peter Parker, who has the proportionate strength and speed of a spider, faces monsters, armies, gods, quipping to hide his nervousness but ultimately proving his greatest strength to be his courage. There are so many examples of protagonists (Danny Torrance, off the top of my head) who must face supernatural odds that seem so colossal, too otherworldly to combat, but they still draw on wells of inner courage that helps them persevere. Horror, like superheroics, isn’t always about people being crushed. Spider-Man learned a great deal after lifting Grand Central Station, just like the Losers Club in It learned they had the weapons to battle Pennywise all along. Both horror and superheroes teach us about being human and that we are capable of going beyond being just another weak, needy, snarling human. If horror tests the weaknesses of the human spirit, Stan Lee’s contribution to superheroes shows us our strengths. So thank you, Stan. You’ve given me a lot.

‘Nuff said.