Once upon a time in the colorful realm of modern cartooning, we meet the enigmatic Robert Crumb — or “R Crumb,” for those in the know. Dan Nadel’s meticulously crafted biography spills the beans on the kooky genius and his place in the world of art, making it a must-read for anyone curious about this oddball.
While many first caught a glimpse of Crumb through his trippy artwork on the iconic Big Brother and the Holding Company/Janis Joplin album Cheap Thrills, his true legacy runs deeper than dorm-room posters and truck mudflaps. Crumb was the maestro of underground comics during the Sixties and Seventies, the crafty creator behind Zap Comix, and the mother goose of absurdist characters flourishing like weeds in a cosmic garden.
Stripped of their subtlety, Crumb’s creations are a riotous medley of lustful and bizarre personas, born from his signature hatching technique. Who could forget Mr. Natural, with his sage-like presence but questionable advice? Or Fritz the Cat, representing all the best and worst of humanity? Crumb’s magnum opus, however, may just be the unnervingly relatable figure of R Crumb himself — an anxious, lanky fellow with a perpetual chip on his shoulder.
Crumb’s artistic lineage can be traced back to the quirky minds of Harvey Kurtzman and Carl Barks, who schooled the young Crumb in the fine art of cartooning. As Nadel points out, without Crumb, we might not have had the likes of Art Spiegelman, Chris Ware, and Daniel Clowes. Spiegelman himself has declared that every cartoonist must make a pilgrimage to the land of Crumb — it’s practically a rite of passage, like sneaking a sip of beer at a cousin’s wedding.
Despite being a poster child for Sixties counterculture, Crumb’s heart beats to a different drum — one that echoes the past rather than dancing to the present’s tune. Think vintage 78rpm records. His political bent could be described as broadly anti-corporate, but let’s be honest: his insights into society are often dwarfed by his daring self-reflection — the man is nothing if not brutally honest.
Born in 1943 to a delightful cocktail of family drama (read: a lower-middle-class soap opera), Crumb’s childhood was steeped in dysfunction. Picture a Shakespearean tragedy with a side of mental illness, substance abuse, and all the family bonding moments you’d rather forget. Yes, he turned out a touch neurotic, which, shockingly, is a gold mine for his comedic talent.
Let’s not pretend everything in Crumb’s world is sunshine and rainbows. With characters like Angelfood McSpade throwing around hyper-sexualized stereotypes, the political correctness police would have thrown the handcuffs on him long ago. He frequently weaves themes of misogyny and racial insensitivity into his work, claiming he merely reflects a culture steeped in these norms — because, you know, that’s what artists do; they reflect, they don’t create, right?
In the lovey-dovey realm of sexuality, Crumb was just a man in a world of women with gloriously strong legs and off-the-charts expectations about piggyback rides. His relationships might resemble a reality show gone wrong — his first marriage hit the rocks once the novelty wore off, and then he frolicked into a predominantly joyful, albeit messy, partnership with Aline Kominsky.
And because life isn’t fair, while Crumb sauntered uninterrupted through his quirky, obsessive career, critics began turning against him. When punk music crashed onto the scene, Crumb found himself ridiculed and written off, sending him spiraling into the depths of artistic despair. Not one to take a blow lying down, he killed off Mr. Natural, claiming “nobody likes me anymore.” Oh, the drama!
In contemporary times, the tides have shifted dramatically. As Crumb took a step back, his work began to climb in value — a classic case of “Can’t Live With It, Can’t Live Without It.” Though he has the charm of a hermit living in rural France, don’t be fooled: this icon of comics possesses an integrity rare in the creative world. Nadel’s biography is a treasure trove of anecdotes, technical jargon, and historical depth, but ultimately delivers a complex portrait of a man who shrugs off conventional expectations while grappling with the absurdity of fame and life.
In his twilight years, Crumb continues to entertain a devoted fanbase with a disarming nonchalance. After an arduous journey into his secluded life, Dan Nadel captures Crumb with a shrug and a nod, prompting the question: is this a genius or just a guy with a quirky streak? Grab the biography and settle in — it’s about to get hilariously ridiculous.
