I remember reading Tintin as a child; it rests in my memory alongside the Moomin series as one of the great pleasures of my reading life back then. So when a Tintin book came up on the staff list, I naturally put my hand up for it; and what should arrive in the mail a few days later but the first in the series — the only one I’d never managed to get my hands on before! I was beyond thrilled, and I still am, despite a more adult view revealing unexpected flaws.
To me, this comic book is a piece of history. Tintin was begun by Hergé (the pen name of Belgian artist Georges Rémi) in 1929. The name of this first book derived, in part from the publication in which the series began: Le Petit Vingtième (“The Little Twentieth”), a children’s supplement to a Belgian newspaper. The series overall has been an enormous, worldwide hit over the years, spinning off into individual volumes, multiple translations, radio adaptations, film versions, and theater productions. Belgium issued postage stamps of Tintin in 1979, followed by the Royal Dutch Post in 1999 and France in 2001, to name only three instances. Medallions have been issued in honor of these books. There is an entire line of merchandise devoted to the series, and of course those are sold in The Tintin Shop (where else?) There have been art exhibitions. Musicals. Even documentaries.
The books tell the story of an intrepid young reporter — Tintin, obviously — who has a knack for getting in trouble that leads him, rather improbably, right into the midst of the truth he’s seeking, and an equally fantastic habit of getting out of those scrapes in over-the-top ways. This first one introduces the reader to the character and his dog, Snowy, a white fox terrier, as they set off to discover what’s really going on in Soviet Russia. The action kicks off with — quite literally — a bang, as a Soviet spy (in trademark long coat, wild hair, and bushy beard, of course) blows up the train to prevent Tintin from reaching Russia. After all, everyone knows that reporters always Discover Things They Shouldn’t, and Soviet Russia is hiding a terrible secret from the world. So Tintin must be stopped at any cost.
Of course the blundering attempt at sabotage doesn’t work; it doesn’t even, apparently, kill anyone, despite the fact that the bomb lands right at Tintin’s feet. He arrives in Berlin, rather battered, with the remnants of the train, Snowy at his side, and is promptly arrested for “misappropriating ten coaches and causing the disappearance of 218 people”. Of course he escapes, of course the police chase him, of course he makes it to Russia anyway, discovers the Great Secret, and escapes Russia — all through a series of equally absurd coincidences. (This was intended for children, remember.)
Under modern light, the book definitely shows its age: rife with stereotype and prejudice, it’s thoroughly unsuitable for today’s children except as an example of the flawed beliefs of the past. That being said, a reasonably intelligent and educated adult will have no trouble setting aside the nonsense and enjoying the bones of this silly children’s tale. And despite the fact that Little, Brown, and Co. have published this through their Young Readers division, adults are likely the only audience to consider: collectors and established fans of the Tintin series.
It’s a good quality volume: large and easy to read, with glossy pages that turn easily without any risk of tearing. The artwork is early Hergé: rough, blocky, nothing like the full color, fine-lined style that predominates in his later books.
If you already love the Tintin series, this is a great addition to your bookshelf. If you can’t get past the political and sociological distortions, or if you’ve never heard of the series before, this volume is unlikely to hold much interest.
(Little, Brown, & Co., 2007)
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