Monday, January 20, 2025

INTO SHAMBALLA WITH DAN GREEN

Tomorrow sees the release of the latest Doctor Strange Marvel Masterworks edition—which, to my great delight, is reprinting, for the first time in decades, Into Shamballa, the Doc Strange graphic novel I did with artist/co-plotter Dan Green, way back in the mid-eighties.

I wrote an essay about the book, and my collaboration with Dan, for this new edition and you can read it below. Enjoy!



In the early 1980s, my then-wife and I decided it was time to pack up our belongings and our not quite two-year-old son, move out of Brooklyn, where we’d both been born and raised, and relocate to that vague, magical kingdom called Upstate. We ended up in a charming old house in a charming little town about a hundred miles north of New York City.

 

Problem was, we didn’t know a soul in the area and it was a difficult adjustment—especially for me: A writer who spends a good part of his existence locked away in his own imagination doesn’t have many opportunities for meeting new people.

 

One day a package arrived from Marvel—a regular occurrence in that ancient era before the digital revolution—with what I assumed was dialogue-ready art for one of the many books I was writing. Turned out the penciled pages inside weren’t meant for me but for an inker named Dan Green, who I’d never met. Left to my own devices, I would have just packed the art up and sent them on to Dan, but my wife noticed that his address was nearby, about twenty minutes away, and insisted we deliver the pages in person. “Who knows?” she said. “We might make some new friends.”

 

A few days later we found ourselves at the Green house, spending an afternoon with Dan and his extremely pregnant wife, Sandi (one of the sweetest humans it’s ever been my pleasure to know—and a chef of almost supernatural ability) and, true to my wife’s prediction, we did indeed forge new, and lasting, friendships. (My son Cody and Dan’s daughter Galen grew up together, went to school together, and remain dear friends to this day.)  

 

As we got to know each other, it became clear that Dan was an intense and interesting man, deep thinking, extremely creative (he was so much more than just an inker, as the breathtaking painted art in this volume attests). Like many of us, he wrestled with some formidable inner demons, but that wrestling was balanced by a strong sense of humor—and a truly good heart.     

 

Given our intersecting creative lives, it was inevitable that Dan and I would work on a project together and, united in our common love of all things mystical, decided to create a Doctor Strange story: one we hoped would be memorable, unique. And we collaborated in an equally unique and memorable way.  

 

Keep in mind it’s been decades, and memories are fragile things, so take everything that follows with the proverbial grain of salt. That said, Dan saved my outlines and scripts and many of his layouts and notes and, using that material as a kind of archaeological guide, I’ve tried to reconstruct the way we created Into Shamballa.                                                                              

 

                                                            ***

Since Dan and I saw each other regularly, we worked very closely every step of the way, bouncing things back and forth, building the story together, brick by brick. After we talked the story through and came up with a framework that excited us, we pitched it to Jim Shooter, who was editor-in-chief of Marvel at the time, and he had some very valuable insights that helped bring our story into deeper focus. I then wrote up a five-page story outline for our editor, Carl Potts, that we also shared with Roger Stern, who was writing the Strange monthly at the time. We wanted to make sure we weren’t stepping on Roger’s toes and that our story didn’t overlap with anything he was doing.

 

From there Dan and I worked out more details of the story, discussed layouts, tone, etc. Then, based on our conversations, I wrote up another outline, breaking the story down, which Dan used as a jumping off point, laying out the entire graphic novel and, I’m sure, adding new details along the way.

 

I wrote my script from Dan’s layouts, but I was free to change things, make shifts, as I went along. When, a few years ago, Dan unearthed a trove of Shamballa material he’d saved, he found some of the layouts—and I use the term loosely!—that I’d quickly doodle if, in the writing, my script deviated from what Dan had already done. This gave him a sense of what I was seeing in my head as new elements of the story unfolded. I also added some art notes to the script itself, offering visual suggestions—something I’d forgotten until Dan showed me the old pages.


Dan had feedback about the script that I then incorporated into another draft and, with that in front of him, worked out the final layouts. We went over those together, making sure we were both happy, after which Dan went on to the finished pages—which, all these years later, still stand as some of the most beautiful art to ever grace a comic book or graphic novel. (By this time, Dan had a studio space close to my house, shared with another dear friend, my Moonshadow collaborator Jon J Muth. I’d pop over and find Dan at one table painting Doc, Jon at another painting Moon. How fortunate was I?)

 

This kind of back and forth is not the way the average comic book is done. The fact that we were able to do so much work face to face, and that we had the extended deadline that graphic novels afford, allowed us to really collaborate in a way writers and artists in comics working on monthly books just can’t. (Even the title was a collaboration: If memory serves, I came up with “Shamballa”—after the Tibetan spiritual kingdom that was central to our tale—and Dan suggested adding “Into”!) It was a magical creative partnership, as befits such a magical character, and, all these years later, Into Shamballa remains a project I’m incredibly proud of—and a true testament to Dan’s brilliance as both an artist and storyteller.


***

 

Over the course of decades, Dan and I sometimes lost track of each other—I went through some seismic changes during those years, including a divorce, new marriage, and the birth of a second child—but we always managed to reconnect. Long friendships are often like that: the tide moves out, but it eventually sweeps back in again.

 

Sandi Zinaman passed away in 2015—a terrible loss—and it seemed to me that a part of Dan died with her. After Sandi’s passing, Dan and I got together regularly—in retrospect, not regularly enough—talking about life and comics over lunch, and it was clear that Dan was still struggling with those aforementioned inner demons. But he was still creative, still passionate, still Dan. We sometimes discussed Into Shamballa and our frustration that, although the story had been reprinted in other countries, sometimes in gorgeous oversized artist’s editions, it had been out of print in the U.S. for many years.  

 

Dan Green passed away in August of 2023: a great loss for comics, a greater loss for those who knew him personally. I’m sorry he didn’t live to see our Doctor Strange epic reprinted in this Masterworks edition, but profoundly grateful that it’s back out in the world, offering a new generation of comics fans the chance to discover our story—and Dan’s extraordinary work. 

 


Safe travels, Dan. Say hello to the Lords of Shamballa for me.



©copyright 2025 J.M. DeMatteis

14 comments:

  1. What? A New Yorker referring to upstate "magical kingdom?" That is the most ridiculous thing I ever heard.

    After all, we have all heard the story of Tom DeFalco visiting you and carrying a switchblade with him the whole time out of fear of cow attack around every corner.

    Everything else seems to check out, but that was the height of ridiculous.

    Although, much like I will never shake the belief that Tom Man was inspired by the Tin Woodsman (no heart, busted heart) and Kraven was inspired by the Most Dangerous game, I am pretty Sure Lost Horizon played played a part of "into Shamballa." Either that or teh Three Dog Night song.

    Also, Dan Green was from Detroit. You believe in all that cosmic conciseness, signs from the universe stuff. At some point you should figure out why that city keeps stalking you, and fulfill that destiny. Otherwise your hippie mind will explode.

    Jack

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    1. FYI: Dan was born and raised in California.

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    2. Okay Dematteis. I need you to stop and take a breath, because what I am going to say will shake your world.

      Are you ready?

      Apparently…take a seat… Wikipedia was wrong. I know. Life not longer makes sense. I hope you can still function.

      I. Do feel bad for getting that wrong.


      BUT…I still say you were inspired by Lost Horizon…or Three Dog Night.

      Jack

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    3. Wikipedia was wrong? That's almost as absurd as Google's AI being wrong! ; )

      I adore LOST HORIZON, it's one of my favorite books, but it wasn't an inspiration for SHAMBALLA. (In fact, I didn't read LH till years after we did SHAMBALLA, although I must have seen the movie.) That said, I've always thought LH was a direct inspiration for Doc Strange's creation. Doc even looks like Ronald Coleman, who played the lead in the Frank Capra movie version.

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    4. Well, Stan Lee clearly used classic works and movies as inspiration for some of his work. He cited Frankenstein for Hulk, captain Blood for Daredevil, Thor was obviously based on a Bob Hope,routine. That last one just goes without saying.


      So the whole graphic novel was a tribute to Three Dog Night. Got it. Also that’s strange.

      I mean I like the band well enough, don’t love but they are fine, however I always get the feeling they are whatbswingers in the 70s listened to.

      Well, I guess that explains the scene with the women. Which mesh teenage brains logged away…for some reason.

      I am a little surprised you chose them and not the Beatles, Peter Paul and Mary or sow,thing. But I am sure you had your reasons.

      Jack

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  2. I actually think there is some reasonable evidence Stan Lee was inspired by Lost Horizon, because he went to that well a lot.

    Dr. Strange, Dr Droom… later Dr. Druid, Dr. Doom, the Inhumans, there was even a story in Strange Tales I read in a 70s reprinting of it, where a man discovers Shangri-la where he sees paradise and his evil brother sees ruins and monsters. Even the High Evolutionary sort of fits if you quint. Maybe not thematically, but in being a mountain hideaway.

    And these ideas were explored with different artists.

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    Replies
    1. That book, and the subsequent Capra movie, were a big deal when they came out and I'm sure they impacted a lot of creative folks.

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    2. If I remover correctly, the book was actually a bigger deal, giving a second life because the fad of pocket books in the post war years could republish it unabridged.

      I forget the publishers name, which is sad because that is my copy…I got it at an annual used book sale put on by the Jewish Women’s League. I could just go look it up, but I won’t.

      As for the film, I am not surprised. It did so many things a1930s film did, it took you to a far away place with amazing visuals the average person could never see.

      Sort of like why LIFE magazine was so popular in the same decade.

      Jack

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    3. My copy of the book is a hardcover published in the 1940s. Something magical about that.

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    4. It would be more impressive it was written on ancient parchment.

      However, that reminds me of back when I read On the Road, I searched second hand book stores, because what would Elbe better than an old beaten, worn and weathered version, right?


      Unfortunately, I had to settle for a (then) new copy. How embarrassing.

      Now, if you were really smart, you would scam Marvel into hiring you to writing a new Dr. Strange story, the. Take a vacation to Tibet for “research,” and write it off on your taxes. Now THAT, would be paradise.


      Jack

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    5. Better yet, get Marvel to pay for it!

      Love the idea of a tattered, original copy of ON THE ROAD. Mine is from the 70s and pretty moldy.

      Delete
    6. That is actually what Ray Harryhausen did. The reason 20 Million Miles to Earth took place in Italy was because he wanted to visit, and got the studio to pay.

      Jack

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