The Amazing Spider-Man #210(cover November 1980, on newsstands on August 12, 1980, 50¢) — “The Prophecy of Madame Web!” », Denny O'Neil on screenplay, John Romita Jr. on drawing, Marvel Comics. This booklet illustrates a rare case: a number that remained for a long time of no particular value, abruptly propelled by an adaptation announcement, then brought back to earth by the release of the film.
This is a file whose main interest, for a collector, is not the character himself but what he teaches about the functioning of the market.
Few fascicles allow us to observe a complete speculative cycle, from start to correction. This one does it, and over a period short enough for us to remember it clearly.
An unsuitable character
Let's start with what this booklet actually contains, because the surprise is real for those who come from the screens.
The character introduced here is an elderly, blind woman suffering from a neuromuscular disease, permanently connected to a web-shaped survival device. She doesn't fight. She doesn't move alone. Its function in the story is to know what others ignore.
This bias was very unusual in 1980. The genre then relied heavily on high-performance bodies; introducing a figure defined by his physical vulnerability and his mental authority was an editorial risk-taking.
Its narrative function is that of an oracle. It guides, it warns, it worries — without ever directly intervening. This role makes her a supporting character by construction, which explains why she has never had a series to her name.
For the buyer, remember this: this leaflet contains a secondary character appearance in an otherwise ordinary episode of the main series. This is not an event number.
O'Neil and Romita Jr.
The text returns to Denny O'Neil , the boards John Romita Jr. This second signature deserves attention.
The designer was then at the start of his career on this title, and his line does not yet have the angular dryness which will make it recognizable among all. We see an artist in the process of finding his way, which interests a specific category of collectors: those who follow an author over time and seek his beginnings.
This request is stable and discreet. It does not raise prices spectacularly, but it ensures a constant flow of buyers, independent of the characters represented.
O'Neil, for his part, belonged to the generation that brought seriousness back to the genre at the turn of the 1970s. His taste for damaged characters and moral dilemmas is found in this creation: it is neither reassuring nor benevolent, and its prophecies are expensive.
Two prints, like this whole period
The booklet exists in two official versions: the one intended for newsagents and the one reserved for the specialized bookstore circuit.
Everything is played out in the box printed in the upper left corner. At that time, newsstand sales remained dominant, with the specialized circuit gaining momentum.
On a booklet of modest value, this distinction weighs less than on a major key. It nevertheless deserves to be verified, for two reasons.
Firstly because it separates two objects, and an informed buyer prefers to know what they are buying. Then because on low value files, sellers often neglect this information — which produces price differences that have no relation to the actual print runs.
So ask for a photo of the area in question, even on a modest purchase. It's a good habit to get into, and it will help you with much more expensive booklets.
A word about the print run itself: the home series was then among the best-selling in the American catalog. The booklet was therefore printed in very large quantities, which excludes any rarity in the strict sense. Its relative difficulty in obtaining it in good condition is due solely to the treatment it has undergone, never to the number of copies produced.
This distinction between original rarity and state rarity is fundamental to understanding what follows.
Forty years of indifference
This is what makes this story informative, and it must be told honestly.
For about four decades, this booklet interested no one in particular. It appeared in the shelves at a low price, considered an ordinary issue of its series. No catalog mentioned it, no guide recommended it.
This indifference has a simple explanation: the character introduced was secondary, appeared rarely, and had no decisive role. The market was right for a long time not to be interested in it.
Then an announcement of a film adaptation changed everything, in a few weeks. The booklet went from the status of a current issue to that of a sought-after key, based solely on a film project.
This shift deserves to be understood for its own sake:it was not based on anything new. The content of the booklet had not changed, nor its rarity. Only the anticipation of future demand had moved.
Then the release of the film
What happens next is just as instructive, and it is rarely told with frankness.
The film was released, and its reception was difficult. Prices corrected, without returning to their original level but giving up a good part of the increase.
There are three practical lessons for a buyer.
An ad doesn't create value, it creates attention. The difference is crucial. Attention can ebb; value, when based on rarity or narrative importance, does not ebb in the same way.
The peak is before release, not after. It is the moment of anticipation, when everything remains possible, which produces the highest prices. The confrontation with reality can only disappoint some buyers.
A floor nevertheless remains. The character is now known to people who didn't know him, and some of them will look for the booklet. The current level exceeds that before the announcement, although it is far from the peak.
This observation has a consequence on reading that must be assumed: the booklet does not provide much for those looking for a good story. Its interest is documentary and heritage, which is perfectly legitimate - but better to know than to discover it after purchase.
What the character has become
A word on what follows, because it sheds light on the structural weakness of this file.
The figure introduced in 1980 reappeared regularly for four decades, without ever coming to the forefront. His function prevents him from doing so: a character whose role is to warn cannot carry a story, since he already knows what is going to happen.
The authors got around this limitation in two ways. By restricting her clairvoyance — she sees poorly, or too late, or ambiguously. Or by making her a victim: someone who knows and can't prevent anything becomes tragic rather than useless.
None of these solutions produced a lasting series, and the character ended up passing his identity on to others.
For the collector, the consequence is direct: this file does not include just one key. There is no reveal number, no significant arc, no series to complete. This simplicity is also a limit — we quickly get around it.
Finally, let us note that this structural limit explains the paradoxical longevity of the character: impossible to highlight, but convenient to summon. Writers resort to it when a plot needs direction, then send it offscreen. It is an intermittent presence over more than forty years, without ever lasting installation.
What to look at
Usage checks on a 1980 booklet, with a particularity.
The upper left box, to identify the distribution circuit.
The printed price of fifty cents, which dates the object and excludes republications.
Alignment and trimming, factory faults common at this time and irremediable.
General condition without indulgence. This is where the particularity lies: as this booklet spent forty years in low-price bins, it was handled without precaution by generations of buyers who leafed through it without intending to acquire it. Really clear copies are therefore rarer than on a booklet marked as notable upon its release.
What the cover doesn't show
A practical point deserves to be pointed out to anyone looking for this booklet in a bin.
The cover does not highlight the character. It is organized around the hero of the title, according to the habits of the time, and nothing indicates the appearance which makes the issue interesting today.
This discretion has two opposing consequences. She returns the booklet difficult to spot visually: impossible to distinguish it from an ordinary number of the series by leafing through a tray. But it also works in your favor, since occasional sellers do not identify it either.
The method that works therefore consists of looking for the number, not the image. On a continuously numbered series, it is immediate for those who take the time to look, and invisible for those who rely on appearance.
Should you buy it?
The question deserves a frank answer, which depends entirely on your motivation.
To own a first appearance of a character now known to the general public, at a price which remains reasonable: yes, the purchase is justified, aiming for a beautiful copy since the price difference with an average copy is modest.
For reading: of no particular interest. This is an ordinary episode of a long series, the main merit of which is to introduce a secondary figure.
As an investment: no, and the cycle described above explains why. This booklet has already had its moment of attention. There is no indication that a second will occur.
The financial aspect occupies ourstudy of the rating; the procedure for collecting can be found inour guide.
What readers are asking
The Amazing Spider-Man #210, dated November 1980 on the cover and went on sale August 12, 1980, for fifty cents. The story is called “The Prophecy of Madame Web!” », text by Denny O'Neil, boards by John Romita Jr., at Marvel Comics.
No way. She is an elderly woman, blind, suffering from a neuromuscular disease and permanently connected to a web-shaped life support device. She does not fight or move alone: her function is to know what others do not know. This was a very unusual bias in the genre in 1980.
Because of a film adaptation announcement. For about four decades, it was of no interest to anyone and appeared in bargain bins. The shift was not based on anything new: neither the content nor the rarity had changed, only the anticipation of future demand had moved.
The reception was difficult and prices corrected, without returning to the original level but giving up a good part of the increase. This is the main lesson of this report: an ad creates attention, not value, and the peak is before the release rather than after.
By number, never by image. The cover is organized around the hero of the title and there is nothing there to indicate the appearance which makes the booklet interesting today: it is impossible to distinguish it from an ordinary episode when leafing through. This discretion, however, works in your favor, since occasional sellers do not identify it further.
To own the first appearance of a now-known character, at a price that has become reasonable again: yes, aiming for a good copy since the difference with an average copy remains modest. For reading: without interest, it is an ordinary episode. As for placement: no, this booklet has already had its moment of attention.
Not at all. The home series was among the best-selling in the American catalog, and the circulation was considerable. Its relative difficulty in obtaining it in good condition is due solely to the treatment it underwent for forty years, never to the number of copies produced. This distinction between original rarity and state rarity is fundamental here.
Because this booklet has spent forty years in low-price bins. Generations of buyers looked through it without intending to acquire it, and no one protected it. Really clear copies are therefore rarer than on a booklet marked as notable upon its release.
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