Yesterday was bad.
And I know I have no excuse. I am well; I live in a harmonious house with space and a garden; the world outside is beautiful; I can probably put food on the table whatever happens; I am not putting my life on the line in an ICU every day; I am young enough to be able to go out and do what is left of shopping these days. But I’m human, and yesterday was a lousy day. Sorry.
Today may be different, who knows? And if it is, it is because I have a trick up my sleeve; I went to bed with Tintin last night –(come on, grow up)- as I do every time I struggle. Last night it was Tintin and the Black Island.
Ever since my sixth birthday in 1965, when my godmother gave me a book called ‘Tintin: the Shooting Star’, they have been my go-to stress buster and anti-depressant. On the face of it, they don’t have much to recommend them. A sixteen-year old boy journalist-cum-detective from Brussels travels around an almost exclusively male world with a white wire fox terrier, fighting evil in the company of an alcoholic retired sailor with serious anger management issues, and a weird, deaf professor. In the length of 23 books, there is just one female of continuing consequence, a vain and annoying Italian opera singer with just the one song in her repertoire. Worse, the books are not just sexist, but racist (Jewish bankers with huge noses; African tribesmen with enormous lips; relentlessly evil Japanese etc), and massively violent. Even Herge himself, the author, apologized for the rhinoceros that got dynamited in Tintin in the Congo.
And yet, and yet. Over 250 million of the books have been sold since Tintin first poked his nose above the wall in the Land of the Soviets, published in 1929, (some achievement when 1929 is also the date of birth clearly shown in Tintin’s passport). They have been translated in 110 different languages, most brilliantly into English by Michael Turner, and have entertained generations of people like me. Herge’s simple ligne claire drawings and bright colours, coupled with an easy-to-follow good versus evil plots, and compelling adventures in stunning scenery have given them a longevity even the author couldn’t have imagined. Even President de Gaulle, no retiring wallflower himself, considered Tintin his only credible international rival.
Herge manages to follow the four rules of successful children’s literature (simple idea; big characters, moral lessons and captivating illustrations) without in any way limiting them to children. As for the less edifying bits, the books are products of their own era, and any discriminating reader will be able to make the necessary allowances for that. Like Animal Farm, Asterix and Winnie the Pooh, they are timeless, and partly because they lift us out of wherever we were stuck. Including me last night.
A dozen years ago, I went on Mastermind, (fourth, if you have to know, but please don’t grieve for me) and asked to do Tintin as my specialist subject. (They refused, as it had been done recently, as they did to my offers of Ernest Shackleton and The Life and work of Tom Lehrer.) I only discovered this morning, when I submitted myself to the attached quiz (below), that I am not even out of secondary school on Tintin trivia. My challenge to any aficionados out there is to do the quiz, and then honestly post your results in the comment section below.
Meanwhile, billions of blue blistering barnacles, it’s time for my porridge.
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