When I was a kid, my brother and I inherited the comic book collection of one of my mother’s friends’ sons (the French would doubtless have a more economical term for that degree of relatedness). From having zero comic books, we suddenly had about 1500: Batman, Superman, World’s Finest, Adventure, Challengers of the Unknown, The Brave and the Bold, Showcase… All of them DC comics. Because of this, when we started buying comic books, they were mostly DC. Me, I was willing to read Marvel, I was actually interested in reading Marvel, but my brother was not. Archie was okay, the odd Gold Key, but he would not permit Marvel comics in the house (if I sneaked one in and he found it, he did away with it…no, I’m not kidding).
I never quite got the binary switch thing: if DC, why not Marvel? If Coke, why not Pepsi?
One of my friends still believes, in her heart of hearts, that it’s either The Beatles or The Monkees, and you could only plight your loyalty to one. This baffles me, because (as an acolyte of The Monkees) she lost out on a lot of the music that I still love best in the world. It’s four decades since this was an issue, and yet–she knows all the words to “Daydream Believer.” I do too (to my kids’ bemusement) but I also know an awful lot of Beatles lyrics. If The Monkees, why not The Beatles, or the Rolling Stones. If Lerner and Loewe, why not Rogers and Hammerstein or Sondheim?
Team Edward or Team Jacob. Star Trek or Star Wars. Narnia or The Hobbit. Why not all of the above (or in the case of Edward and Jacob: neither)? Vanilla or chocolate?
I’m not saying it’s a bad thing to have likes and dislikes. But I’d be careful about those binaries: Xing out a whole range of options impoverishes no one but yourself. Vanilla fudge–or even better, coffee fudge. With sprinkles.