Robert Crumb: The Quirky King of Underground Comics
Ah, Robert Crumb, or as he stylishly signed, “R Crumb” — a name that rings loud in the halls of cartooning and a character so peculiar he might be the lost love child of Salvador Dalí and a five-legged goat. Dan Nadel’s painstakingly exhaustive biography lays out every eccentricity and nuance of this modern cartoon maestro, proving that he’s as fascinating as his art.
For eons, Crumb was probably best known to the mainstream for his cover illustration of the album Cheap Thrills by Big Brother and the Holding Company featuring Janis Joplin. You remember, right? Those long, wobbly figures with the infamous slogan “Keep on Truckin’” that became the dorm-room equivalent of a cozy blanket? But let’s not kid ourselves; those were just the appetizer. Crumb was the luminous light bulb of the underground comics scene in the Sixties and Seventies, an artistic tour de force behind Zap Comix, which sounds like a bad sci-fi movie but made waves in the comic world.
Crumb’s creativity is a psychedelic smorgasbord of absurdist characters like Mr. Natural, Angelfood McSpade, and Fritz the Cat — all dripping with a mix of anxiety and funny bone. His special touch is the hatching technique that makes even his most dubious creations feel oddly relatable. And don’t forget the self-portrait of R Crumb himself, the lanky dude in milk-bottle specs who’s perpetually simmering in a cauldron of emotional neuroses. He’s the hero no one asked for — or perhaps the antihero that every over-medicated cartoonist secretly aspires to be.
Learning at the feet of legends like Harvey Kurtzman of Mad Magazine fame and the anonymous “good duck artist” Carl Barks (who literally drew the world’s favorite duck), Crumb became a life raft in a storm of mediocrity. Nadel posits that without Crumb, we wouldn’t have the likes of Art Spiegelman, Chris Ware, Joe Sacco, or Daniel Clowes, which is a weighty accolade for a man who drew cartoons in a haze of existential dread. As Spiegelman puts it, “Every cartoonist has to pass through Crumb.” So think of him as the metaphorical gatekeeper of cartooning — one that charges a hefty existential toll but lets you keep your soul (barely).
Despite being a counterculture icon, Crumb’s reality is less about flower power and peace signs and more like a vintage record spinning tales of familial chaos. Born in 1943 into a household where “family values” likely meant “we raise our voices and throw things,” his upbringing was like a poorly scripted tragedy rife with mental health issues and perhaps a sprinkle of intergenerational chaos. His older brother, who shared in Crumb’s comic escapades, didn’t escape the madness and tragically took his life in 1992. So while you may think of Crumb as whimsical, understand he’s also a vessel for familial demons — both crippling and creatively beneficial.
And here’s where it gets juicy. Crumb is what the youth today would call #problematic. Characters like Angelfood McSpade are steeped in controversial racial caricature, and let’s not even start on the casual approach to sensitive topics like rape in his earlier works. His rebuttal? “Hey, I didn’t invent these stereotypes; I’m just reflecting them.” Talk about an alibi that might get him a standing ovation in a courtroom for insanity! Crumb holds up a funhouse mirror to reality, distorting it into something that’s both grotesque and laugh-out-loud funny.
Surprisingly, rather than facing social media fallout or prison time for his trashed societal norms, Crumb has had a series of romantic entanglements that rival daytime soap operas. His first marriage unraveled faster than a cheap sweater, yet he somehow managed to procure a more stable (though still humorously complex) partnership with Aline Kominsky. Talk about a wild ride! As the Seventies waned, Crumb found himself in a creative rut, desperately attempting to run away from the very era that once celebrated him. Punk rock came in, and when a fanzine shat on his work, he dramatically killed off Mr. Natural, providing the cartooning world with yet another tragic backstory to discuss over coffee.
Fast forward to today, and Crumb is cashing in on his cult fame while living in the idyllic countryside of France, where he probably grows organic herbs while contemplating the meaning of life. His notoriously poor grasp of finances would make any accountant break into tears — after all, he turned down a whopping $20,000 for a cuddly Mr. Natural toy because he was too busy grappling with his love-hate relationship with capitalism. With that said, Crumb’s essence is nowhere near monetary gain; it’s about the art, the chaos, and the endless therapy sessions that shaped him. Nadel’s biography dives into the nitty-gritty — the print runs, sales figures, and even what fine-point pen Crumb might be using at any given moment — all while giving us an unvarnished look at the man behind the madness.
And there you have it: Robert Crumb, a complex, inexplicable being who shrugs at the idea of a thorough biography and manages to exude a blend of innocence and mischief that keeps us coming back for more. Consider reading Dan Nadel’s Crumb: A Cartoonist’s Life, if only to marvel at the absurdity of it all.
