Cover of the 1961 edition in English of Asterix the Gaul, the first volume in the series.

(2) RENE GOSCINNY & ALBERT UDERZO –

ASTERIX (1959-1979 – I’m only counting the ones written by both Goscinny and Uderzo up to Asterix in Belgium, the twenty-fourth volume in the series)

“The year is 50 B.C. Gaul is entirely occupied by the Romans. Well, not entirely… One small village of indomitable Gauls still holds out against the invaders. And life is not easy for the Roman legionaries who garrison the fortified camps of Totorum, Aquarium, Laudanum and Compendium…”

These Romans are crazy!

Asterix is the original source of my enduring love of comics – and my enduring fascination with the Roman Empire in classical or ancient history. It wouldn’t quite be true to say everything I know about the Roman world I learned from Asterix comics – as those comics inspired me to read more historical books on the Roman Empire and ancient history – but you could genuinely learn a lot about the Roman Empire from them.

The basic premise is stated in the above introduction to each comic, accompanied by the famous map with a magnifying glass held up to show the titular protagonist’s village. (Asterix is also where I learned about the battle of Alesia, in which Julius Caesar defeated the Gallic chieftain Vercingetorix and conquered Gaul – a detail that recurs in a number of comics). This small but plucky village has withstood the vast numerical and military superiority of the Roman Empire by virtue of a magic potion that bestows superhuman strength brewed by its resident druid.

Each comic then introduced the major dramatis personae from the village – foremost among them our small but plucky titular protagonist Asterix, but also his generously proportioned fellow protagonist Obelix (who always has superhuman strength because he fell in a cauldron of magic potion as a baby), the aforementioned druid Getafix, village chieftain Vitalstatistix and ill-tuned bard Cacofonix. Oh – and Obelix’s cute dog Dogmatix. As you can tell, the names of Gauls in the comic had humorous puns or plays on the suffix “-ix” – the Romans similarly with “us” and so on with other groups within the Empire. That was indicative of the general wordplay and puns in dialogue as well as visual gags that made each comic a delight – “part of the appeal of the series is probably the variety of humor, which includes slapstick fight scenes, plenty of wordplay, thinly-veiled social commentary, and Iron Age and Roman antiquity versions of just about every European (and beyond) stereotype you can imagine.

I must admit to having a soft spot for the Romans, even though they were generally the antagonists – although perhaps not quite to the point of rooting for the Empire, as our protagonist and his village were just too damn charming. Generally the Romans weren’t cast as evil villains – indeed the hapless legionaries in the camps surrounding the village strove to serve out their time by quietly trying to avoid any contact with the Gauls – although they could also be effective antagonists in their schemes to conquer or undermine the village. And it helped that the Romans were also typically lovable idiots – indeed like almost everyone else in the comic, including the protagonist villagers themselves, except of course for Asterix, Getafix and flashes of brilliance among other characters (Gauls or otherwise). Interestingly, one character not played as an idiot – indeed, played as a worthy adversary – was Caesar himself.

I also have to admit to a soft spot – widely shared by other fans – for the cameo appearances by the recurring band of small but persistently unlucky pirates, a parody of another comic series Barbe-Rouge (Redbeard) – unlucky, that is, in persistently encountering our protagonist duo, the point that they would desperately try to avoid “the Gauls”, even sinking their own ship.

The series was also distinguished by some of the best translations in comics ever – from the original French (of course) by writer Rene Goscinny – as well as some of the best caricaturist art from artist Albert Uderzo. Goscinny sadly died in 1977 and Uderzo took over the writing as well, although not quite with the same superb quality of writing in the eyes of fans such as myself – until he too sadly passed away only in March 2020.

RATING: 5 STARS*****

S-TIER (GOD-TIER – OR IS THAT BY TOUTATIS TIER!)

2000 AD poster art of the titular delinquent duo

(2) ALAN MOORE – D.R. & QUINCH (1983 – 1987)

“Even had I suspected then the truly horrifying suffering and amazing loss of life that would be caused by our well-meaning enterprise… I’d have done it anyway. Only more so.”

One of my hot takes in comics is that I find Alan Moore’s work overrated. I’m not saying I don’t like it. But for me, his finest work was his series D.R. & Quinch, when he started as a writer for 2000 AD and before taking himself too seriously. After all, how seriously can you take yourself when you pronounce the Roman snake god Glycon as your deity? (In Moore’s case, very).

You see, Alan Moore used to be fun – and never more so in this semi-regular but sadly brief series about the eponymous alien adolescent delinquent duo. It started with a one-off comic “D.R. & Quinch Have Fun on Earth” as part of the recurring Future Shock and Time Twister stories, in which the duo steal a time machine to wreak havoc on an insignificant planet in the cosmic boondocks no one cares about (i.e. Earth) as a prank on their college dean. However, they proved so popular they got five longer stories – “D.R. and Quinch Go Straight”, “D.R. and Quinch Go Girl Crazy”, “D.R. and Quinch Get Drafted”, “D.R. and Quinch Go to Hollywood” and “D.R. and Quinch Go Back to Nature”.

You know you’re in for a wild ride when your protagonist’s initials stand for diminished responsibility.

TV Tropes sums it up best:

In what can best be described as “Rule of Funny meets For the Evulz,” D.R. & Quinch tells the totally amazing story of one Waldo “D.R.” Dobbs (the “D.R.” stands for “Diminished Responsibility”), a skinny, lanky, teenage delinquent who boasts a genius IQ, enjoys acts of extreme violence and destruction, and looks like a cross between a gremlin and a skrull with a pompadour, and Dobbs’ best friend Ernest Erroll Quinch, a large, purple-skinned brute who is much, much quieter than Dobbs as he prefers writing to talking. Together, these two deeply sociopathic, evilly affable, omnicidal maniacs do as they please, and what pleases them usually involves death and destruction on a tremendous scale; it helps that, in their part of the Milky Way, nuclear warheads are as easily obtainable as a handgun in the Deep South.

“S’right”

RATING:

A-TIER (TOP TIER)

The literal face of Mad Magazine – Alfred E. Neumann – on the October 1982 magazine cover parodying Time Magazine’s Man of the Year

(1) MAD (1952 – PRESENT)

What, me worry?

Ah – Alfred E. Neuman with his iconic gap tooth grin and catchphrase as Mad Magazine’s fictional mascot and cover boy. According to Wikipedia, he actually preceded Mad as a visual image in advertisements and a presidential campaign postcard for Roosevelt, although the magazine named him and converted his original appearance as an idiotic figure to a more mischievous devil-may-care trickster – “someone who can maintain a sense of humor while the world is collapsing around him”. Amusingly – given his origins from a presidential campaign postcard – Mad Magazine has proffered him periodically as a joke presidential candidate from 1956 onwards with the slogan “You could do a lot worse…and always have!”

I was raised on Mad. Indeed, it was hereditary – I inherited it from my mother, who had classic collections of Mad from when she was a teenager and passed them on to me when I was a teenager. (I’m not too sure her parents – my grandparents – were impressed by this subversive publication – they were pretty straightlaced). And it has been a huge influence on my sense of humor and worldview ever since, mirroring its wider influence on parody and satire in popular culture. If you want to understand me, know that Mad Magazine is etched deep within my psyche (paired with Catch-22 and as part of an eclectic kaleidoscope with The Devil’s Dictionary and TV Tropes):

The film and television parodies – particularly as drawn by Mort Drucker, possibly the finest caricaturist ever (sadly passed away on 9 April 2020).

Spy vs Spy! Featuring the titular literal black and white Cold War-eque spies (drawn as, ah, bird-like people things?) outwitting each other with traps within traps

Don Martin – Mad’s Maddest Artist! And his recurring Fonebone character!

Dan Berg and his “The Lighter Side of” slice of life cartoons!

Sergio Aragones – with his “A Mad Look At’ recurring features and his marginal doodles (or “Drawn Out Dramas”)!

The classic Mad Fold-Ins!

And so on. Nothing was sacred for Mad’s subversive satire and sense of humor – sacred cows make the best hamburger – “Mad’s satiric net was cast wide. The magazine often featured parodies of ongoing American culture, including advertising campaigns, the nuclear family, the media, big business, education and publishing. In the 1960s and beyond, it satirized such burgeoning topics as the sexual revolution, hippies, the generation gap, psychoanalysis, gun politics, pollution, the Vietnam War and recreational drug use”.

Robert Boyd from the Los Angeles Times summed up Mad Magazine for me as well as himself and other fans, with the apt line “All I really need to know I learned from Mad magazine” – “Plenty of it went right over my head, of course, but that’s part of what made it attractive and valuable. Things that go over your head can make you raise your head a little higher. The magazine instilled in me a habit of mind, a way of thinking about a world rife with false fronts, small print, deceptive ads, booby traps, treacherous language, double standards, half truths, subliminal pitches and product placements; it warned me that I was often merely the target of people who claimed to be my friend; it prompted me to mistrust authority, to read between the lines, to take nothing at face value, to see patterns in the often shoddy construction of movies and TV shows; and it got me to think critically in a way that few actual humans charged with my care ever bothered to.”

And it forever tainted the way I view films and television – much as it did critic Roger Ebert:

“I learned to be a movie critic by reading Mad magazine … Mad’s parodies made me aware of the machine inside the skin—of the way a movie might look original on the outside, while inside it was just recycling the same old dumb formulas. I did not read the magazine, I plundered it for clues to the universe”.

RATING: 5 STARS*****

S-TIER (GOD-TIER)

Peak Slaine – The Horned God with glorious cover art by Simon Bisley or the Biz!

(1) PAT MILLS – SLAINE (1983 – PRESENT: Yes, I’m counting the publication of the definitive collected edition)

“He didn’t think it too many”

Slaine’s catchphrase by reference to his body count. Also “kiss my axe” to much the same effect.

Slaine is essentially a prehistoric Irish Conan. although that is in itself turning full circle as the name Conan is of Celtic origin and Robert E. Howard identified Conan’s native Cimmerian people as prehistoric Celtic or Gaelic Irish and Scots. Or more accurately, a cross between Conan and Cuchulainn, the mythological Irish hero from the Ulster cycle – although there are other sources (and figures with whom Slaine interacts) from mythology, particularly Celtic or Irish mythology.

Slaine was introduced as a wandering exile from his tribe, banished for sleeping with the king’s intended consort Niamh – a figure adapted from Celtic mythology – and who remains something of a star-crossed lover for Slaine.

Getting into trouble with women is a recurring theme in Slaine’s early adventures, best personified by recurring antagonist and sorceress Medb, another figure adapted from Celtic mythology. Medb is something of a death cultist and Slaine earns her enmity when he rescued her from being sacrificed in a Wicker Man (in which he and Ukko were also imprisoned for execution) – unfortunately, she was a devotee of the dark god Crom Cruach and had eagerly embraced being a sacrificial bride of Crom.

Dark gods – of the Lovecraftian eldritch abomination sort – and their servants are the recurring antagonists for Slaine, his people the Tuatha de Danaan (living in Tir Nan Og or the Land of the Young) and their goddess Danu. Which is just as well as the morality of the protagonists, notably Slaine himself, is somewhat murky, but overshadowed by the completely monstrous antagonists. After all, the goddess Danu can be a bit of a bitch – “Sometimes I am the sister who befriends you, sometimes I am the mother who holds you and sometimes I am the lover who sticks one in your back”. It’s all part of her dance. Slaine himself tends to revel in raw brutality and blood lust, exemplified in his warp-spasm. Even the goddess snarkily rebukes him that he’s had his share of mindless violence, which Slaine acknowledges to be true.

The high point of Slaine is The Horned God story arc, painted by Simon Bisley (or the Biz as he is known in, well, the biz) with breathtaking results.

RATING: 

S-TIER (GOD-TIER – OR IS THAT GODDESS TIER?)