One way of approaching these comics is through the inexpensive black-and-white editions, which bring out Ditko's brooding faces, his euphoric bodies, and his increasingly bold but always controlled lines. Admittedly, these editions obscure the carnival aspect of the original 12-cent comics. But their illusion of transparency calls attention to the visual grammar that structures Spider-Man's movements as he uncoils across a room filled with dangerous men. They also lend an appealing intimacy to Lee's intricate secondary story arcs and his justly famous romance courtship scenes.
Perhaps the most surprising thing about the whole enterprise is that Ditko's maturing artistic aspirations and Lee's preference for light melodrama managed to achieve some sort of ecstatic transcendence on the printed page. While their fundamental sensibilities may have been at odds they were both energised by the lesson that Spider-Man embodied - that "with great power comes great responsibility". No doubt Marvel's corporate owners kept this in mind as they cleaved mainstream comics into a thousand pieces.
