I'm usually pretty forgiving when it comes to the premise of a clearly fictional story. Comic books require a lot of suspension of disbelief from the get-go, especially as a modern reader. The X-Men were invented during a time when nuclear radiation was the answer to every conceivable problem and the source of all super powers. Spiderman was bitten by a radioactive spider, the Fantastic Four were struck with cosmic radiation and the mutants of the X-Men world were originally the children of people who worked on the atomic bombs used in World War II. Looking at older issues of The Uncanny X-Men it's clear that modern audiences may just be a lot harder to immerse in the story.

Comics, like all fantasy media, reflect the times in which they were created. So, of course nuclear radiation is at the center of post-war comic books. As that particular specter faded, the catch-all device of atomic energy fell out of vogue. Marvel was quick to adopt new, trendy origins for its heroes and villains. For the mutants it became the equally science-minded and only slightly less absurd X-Gene, piggy-backing on a wider public acceptance of evolution as well as relying on the suspended disbelief of those who actually know how real evolution works. Even the movie version of Spiderman got his powers from a genetically altered arachnid rather than an irradiated one.

This is why the absurdity of comics needs to be taken as an expression of an era rather than as silly storytelling. In my retrospective of Uncanny X-Men books from the 60's and 70's the hardest part has been looking past all the broad racial stereotypes that populate that story. They were more or less absent from the book's earliest issues and then appeared in full force during the reinvention in 1975.

Distracting as every exaggerated Irish brogue and noble African savage can be, I've come to the conclusion that the stereotypes in these middle period X-Men comics are well-meaning if crude attempts to be more inclusive. Instead of being post-WWII books, these comics came about in the shadow of the Vietnam War and all off the social conflict surrounding it. Just like the old comics recognized that nuclear weaponry changed the world forever, comics from the 70's recognized that sweeping social reform was altering the landscape of American culture. The heroes were no longer just clean-cut white kids and super-soldiers, they were an international collective who worked together despite whatever internal conflicts they had.

It may be no mistake that the first characters to leave the X-Men in 1975 were the old-fashioned heroes from the 60's as well as the Japanese and American Indian character. There's a tacit recognition of social wounds in those last two. Looking at the other new X-Men it's not hard to see other cultural perceptions made flesh. Colossus, the Soviet Russian, is an imposing figure who isn't as confrontational as his form suggests. Nightcrawler, the German, still looks like a monster despite his gentle nature. Storm, the African, is beautiful and sophisticated in a time when black Americans struggled for respect. It's admirable that Marvel ran these comics when they did, even if the sentiments therein aren't so resonant today.

That's not to say there aren't a number of missteps along the way. The multi-issue arc at Cassidy Keep following the beginning of the Phoenix Saga is ridiculous and occasionally hilarious. Issue #103 begins with Nightcrawler being carried off by leprechauns in the catacombs of an Irish castle. The entire adventure is studded with silly accents and a general de-fanging of Irish mythology. It's not so socially progressive as many of the other developments in the new X-Men. But that's the nature of new ideas. Some work, some don't.