Surviving the Great Indoors: “Baby Blues” Scrapbook
36. By
Rick Kirkman and Jerry Scott. Andrews McMeel. $18.99.
Nancy’s Genius Plan. By “Olivia Jaimes.”
Andrews McMeel. $7.99.
Virtuosity is its own reward. And its own
challenge. Rick Kirkman and Jerry Scott somehow continue to manage to create
infinite variations on a theme – of parents and their kids, a longtime fixture
in the world of comic strips – in ways that make the perennial challenges of
child-rearing seem ever-new. And, of course, ever-messy and ever-frustrating. Both
newspaper readers (a fast-declining bunch) and lovers of webcomics (a
fast-rising bunch) tend to skim comic strips quickly, enjoy them briefly, maybe
stick particularly good ones to the refrigerator (hint: do not stick your
computer to the refrigerator). Most such readers have not the slightest idea of
how much thought and work and fine-tuning goes into the best comic strips, of
which Baby Blues is very definitely
one. That is, most do not know unless they buy collections of the strip, the
latest of which is Surviving the Great
Indoors. Throughout the book, Kirkman and Scott make comments on their
work, explain their thinking, and – a particular source of enjoyment – even
show some of the “blue lines,” the rough sketches that eventually turn into
final strips and sometimes differ from those final ones in small or
not-so-small ways. The content of all the Baby
Blues collections can be described the same way: Darryl and Wanda
MacPherson deal to the best of their ability with the everyday troubles,
traumas and occasional terrors of raising their three kids, Zoe, Hammie and
Wren. (And just consider those three names. Lots of thought obviously went into
them.) However, the “plot” of Baby Blues
is only as important as the initial statement of a theme in a set of musical
variations: it is a starting point, but not what really matters or what makes
the whole thing worthwhile for an audience. For instance, the fact that Wanda
would love a much-remodeled, much-improved house is no surprise, but the words
about her dreamed-of “French farmhouse kitchen” with “wide-plank flooring, and
a stone fireplace” – plus the marvelous illustration superimposing her dream on
the family’s real, barely adequate kitchen – are exceptional. Add the fact that
she then throws her arms around an imagined hunky remodeler named Chip, while in
fact hugging unprepossessing Darryl, and the exceptional becomes even better.
Then add Zoe’s last-panel line, “When Mom goes into fantasy remodeling mode,
she goes all out,” and you have a perfect encapsulation of how Baby Blues works. And then add, as a bonus, the rough panels
in which “Chip” is named “Bruce,” and the explanation of the change, and you have
a kind of super-ultimate-amazing-wonderful-insightful view of how a great comic
strip is made. Baby Blues is timeless
in its portrayal of family life, at least for thirtysomethings such as Darryl
and Wanda, but it does have some characteristics that reflect on the ages of
Kirkman and Scott, who are, ahem, a bit more seasoned (if not necessarily more mature).
There are, for instance, the references to classic films such as 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) and Blazing Saddles (1974). And there are
the tributes to other first-rate cartoonists such as Sergio Aragonés of Mad magazine, whose marginal drawings get
some fond imitation (although they would likely be nearly invisible in today’s
comic-strip layouts), and Charles Schulz, whose Peanuts character interaction visibly influences one strip and
whose concept of the Great Pumpkin is the topic of another. On the other hand,
there are elements in Surviving the Great
Indoors that could only appear in a Baby
Blues collection, such as the hilarious strip (laid out here on two full
pages) in which Wren counts Darryl’s nose hairs, leading to a marginal
discussion of what size the nostrils should be when someone possesses a nose
the size of his entire head, from forehead to chin. The only real criticism
that can be leveled at Surviving the
Great Indoors is that it will be a disappointment to nitpickers. There are
three errors in the book: a missed period in one strip, the word “tablet”
misspelled “tab let” in another, and the word “look” instead of “lock” in a
third. But alas, Kirkman (who hand-letters the strip) calls attention to them
all, making it impossible for readers to say “neener, neener, neener” to the
cartoonists. Those who are disappointed will just have to be glad that Darryl
gets to say “neener, neener, neener” to Zoe in one of the strips.
The exact elements that make a comic strip
“classic” can be argued (and often are: academics have to have something to do), but certainly the
amount of detail in the art is not a
determining factor. A strip such as Baby
Blues is exceptionally intricate, while Nancy
by Ernie Bushmiller (1905-1982) was simple to the point of a Zen kōan. Those needing proof of some cartoonists’
versatility should note that Jerry Scott not only co-creates Baby Blues but also writes the equally
elaborately illustrated Zits – and in
addition, for more than a decade after Bushmiller’s death, did Nancy. Now, though – specifically since
2018 – Nancy is under the aegis of
the pseudonymous “Olivia Jaimes,” a Web cartoonist who for some reason chooses
to remain anonymous. “Jaimes” has reimagined the deliberately bland style of Nancy for the Internet age, keeping the
precocious eight-year-old as super-simple as always in drawing style but having
her interact on a regular basis with modern technology. And she also interacts
with readers – at least in the form of a board book, something Bushmiller would
never have created (although he did do plenty of comic books, initially focused
more on Aunt Fritzi than on Nancy). Nancy’s
Genius Plan is a particularly interesting blend of “old Nancy” and “new
Nancy,” although the very young children for whom board books are created (and
their parents) will not know Nancy’s history and have no reason to consider it.
The “plan” here is simply for Nancy to get the warm cornbread that Aunt Fritzi
made for everyone to share, but that Nancy wants for herself. Nancy enlists
readers to help – through some clever interactivity that the youngest children
can easily accomplish, such as knocking on a window to distract Aunt Fritzi and
turning the book upside down so Nancy can walk on the ceiling and walls. Of
course, selfishness cannot be encouraged in kids’ books, so by the end of this
one, Nancy is happy to be sharing the cornbread with her friends – who include
not only the traditional Sluggo but also, in accordance with contemporary
inclusive sensibilities, African-American and Hispanic buddies. The book is
clever and its reinterpretation of Nancy is quite well done, keeping the
character’s extreme simplicity of appearance while adapting her behavior for a
time when comic strips, if thought through carefully, can be new-fashioned out
of distinctly old-fashioned material.
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