Comics’ Wives, Girlfriends, and Female Heroes Speak Out in The Refrigerator Monologues

If you don’t understand that title, a bit of background is in order. The term “women in refrigerators” is infamous in the comic book world, coined by then-blogger and comics journalist Gail Simone (who’s gone on to become a big-name writer in her own right) as a way to talk about the treatment of female characters in comic books, especially superhero comics. The term describes a long history of female heroes, villains, and supporting characters who were often cast aside (meaning: killed ignominiously) solely to advance the plot of the male heroes. Specifically, the phrase refers to the Green Lantern’s one-time girlfriend, Alexandra DeWitt, who was killed off-page and stuffed into a refrigerator by a C-list villain in order to provide GL with the spark he needed to up his superhero game. Even in his agony and trauma, he’s even given the opportunity to resurrect her, but declines, because it wouldn’t be right (or something).
The death of Spider-Man’s girlfriend Gwen Stacy at the hands of the Green Goblin is an earlier, more prominent example of the same trope. Of course, any given example of the phenomenon can be defended, but Simone’s point was about the larger place of women in comics making it hard for girls and women to invest in the medium. And while things have changed a bit in the intervening years, old habits and attitudes definitely die hard.

In this story collection, Valente turns the tables. À la The Vagina Monologues, she gives voice to six characters, each of whom talks about afterlife in Deadtown before chronicling their own stories, which are frequently punctuated by an ignominious death. These characters don’t have names you’ll recognize from the pages of Marvel and D.C., but their stories definitely echo those of comics’ most famously sainted or maligned ladies. All we can say is, these women would have a lot to talk about with Gwen Stacy, Jean Grey, Aquaman’s wife Mera, and others. These isn’t just a series of diatribes, either—Valente reinvents the characters from the ground up in a way that makes each entertaining in her own right, and Annie Wu’s delightful illustrations turn them into the comic book heroes we never knew.
This is all great fun for comic book geeks, but Valente has more than parody on her mind. She’s offering up a more empowered version of these women, suggesting that even the most ill-used victims in comic book fiction can be redeemed if we only consider the story from their point of view. It’s not that they’re given happy endings, no—but wouldn’t we all rather be the hero, albeit tragic, in our own story rather than a supporting character in someone else’s? Julia Ash is a “Mockingbird” under the tutelage of Professor Yes whose powers rampage out of control, leading her to devour a star (among other atrocities). She gets to at least wonder why, when so many other heroes have been mind-controlled or driven mad by their powers (how many times has Superman gone bad? It’s a lot.), she has to serve as a persistent moral lesson about the dangers of losing control. There’s even a meta statement about writers who can’t decide whether to interpret Julia as a monster of a victim (X-Men fans will immediately recognize the parallels to a certain red-headed telepath), flitting between a couple of well-worn roles for women: emotionally unstable to the point of destructiveness, or subservient to an outside power she lacks the discipline to manage.

In other instances, the book comments more directly upon the character and the writing: Pauline Ketch is a maniacal, unbalanced character who’s head-over-heels in love with Mr. Punch, the arch-nemesis of superhero Grimdark. In this particular case, Ketch’s comic-book analogue (it’s clear that we’re talking Harley Quinn here, yeah?) actually has it a bit better than Valente’s version, perhaps because “doting girlfriend” is a worthwhile role on the page. Even if the fella being doted upon is a serial killer. The Refrigerator Monologues instead plays that relationship out to its fairly logical, more realistic conclusion. Ladies, I’d never presume to mansplain to whom to give your hearts, but maybe think twice if he’s a sociopathic mass murderer. Manage your expectations, at least.
Though the book doesn’t refer to them by name, seasoned comic fans will be able to identify which characters are being discussed. But it doesn’t entirely matter—and that’s a good thing. This isn’t a book of winking references and in-jokes, but compelling short stories that illuminate universal truths about how we tell stories—within comics and without. Valente’s darkly funny takes are enjoyable on their own merits. There’s no question the book will make the greatest impact on comic fans, but the things Valente and Wu are commenting upon aren’t limited to superhero stories. The Refrigerator Monologues is a vicious satire of a medium, but it treats its characters with the love they deserve, and while it definitely aims to deliver a message, it does so without shouting them down or using them as mere props. Which shouldn’t feel like such a revelation in 2017, but, well, here we are.
The Refrigerator Monologues is available June 6.