Disclaimer: I was given this book by my Devoted Wife, who, as far as I know, has no connection to Nevin Martell, Continuum Books, or Spaceman Spiff.
Looking for Calvin and Hobbes is a reverent summary of what can be known about Bill Watterson and his legendary ten-year run in the newspaper comics. The author traces the life and work of Bill Watterson. This includes a description of Watterson’s early steps in the cartooning field, his ultimate success, and his struggle with the syndicate for control over the strip. The book also describes the events that led Watterson to stop drawing the strip, and interviews several cartoonists who knew, were influenced by, or in some cases were antagonized by Watterson.
I seem to recall that I first encountered Calvin and Hobbes in a daily paper when I was on a job-hunting trip, and I went out and bought the first collection right after I got back. I own all the original collections, and my kids have had a good time reading them. This book was fun to read, because it reminded me of the things I liked about the strip. Martell’s devotion to Calvin and Hobbes shows when he discusses particular strips or makes observations about Watterson’s trees and Martian landscapes. He reminds the reader of particular storylines that stood out, like the injured raccoon storyline or the recurring conflicts with Susie and Rosalyn.
The whole history of this strip is actually rather short, but I think Martell describes it well. It’s well-known how Watterson wrestled with the syndicate. I didn’t realize how reclusive he was, even during the height of his popularity. The description of Watterson’s 1989 speech to the Festival of Cartoon Art is absolutely jaw-dropping. Apparently, Watterson used the occasion to take the syndicates to task for propping up old strips after their creators had died, and for caring more about merchandising than about the strips themselves. I had never heard of this speech before, and from the description, I can’t imagine that it was comfortable to listen to.
The author was never able to speak to Watterson himself, so he interviewed Watterson’s peers, that is, other cartoonists. I was pleasantly surprised at how enjoyable the excerpts of these interviews were. It was nice to hear of folks like Michael Jantze or Berke Breathed again. Martell uses an interview with Jim Davis, creator of Garfield, to draw a contrast with Watterson’s absolute refusal to market his strip and to point out the absolutely mind-boggling extremes to which licensing and the associated money can go. I have to admire anyone who can turn down the amount of money that Watterson could have gotten from licensing Calvin and Hobbes. (Fortunately for my own moral standing, as a software engineer, I’m in no danger of ever making that kind of money.)
The book has a couple of problems. Toward the end, I felt like I was learning more about Martell than anything else — he talks about the stress of waiting for a call from Watterson that never came, conversations back and forth with Watterson’s publisher, and the music he was listening to on the drive to Watterson’s hometown of Chagrin Falls. Also, the entire book has no illustrations or drawings. That seems almost impossible in a book about comic art, and yes, the book suffers as a result. Unlike Michael Farr’s Tintin: The Complete Companion, we get no examples of early work, no prototype illustrations, no actual panels. The author uses verbal descriptions of each of these and, at least for me, it doesn’t work so well. I am sure that the publisher had problems getting rights, and I can appreciate the need to keep the book cost down, but the end result is that the book is much less than it could have been.
Overall I recommend the book. It’s a relatively fast read, and if you were at all a fan, it’ll provide an interesting back story for the comics and remind you of what you loved about them in the first place.