Ah, Robert Crumb—or as he affectionately scribbles, “R. Crumb”—the reigning king of modern cartooning and resident oddball. Dan Nadel’s meticulously crafted biography serves up everything you could possibly want to know about this enigma wrapped in a hatching. Spoiler: it’s quite the trip.
For eons, Crumb was the go-to guy for hip cats and squares alike, mainly due to his iconic cover illustration for Big Brother and the Holding Company’s album, Cheap Thrills, and those elongated, stone-faced characters that once graced the walls of college dorms and the back of 18-wheeler mudflaps. But let’s not kid ourselves; he was more than a mere pretty cover. Crumb was the guiding guru of underground comics in the ’60s and ’70s, single-handedly guiding the ship of Zap Comix through tumultuous seas of societal norms.
Crumb has gifted us a bizarrely delightful pantheon of characters that make your average sitcom look like a soothing lullaby. We’re talking about the likes of Mr. Natural, the Snoid, Angelfood McSpade, and his most iconic creation—himself! This lanky ectomorph with milk-bottle glasses is positively drenched in resentment and anxiety, and isn’t that a mood?
Crumb’s education came courtesy of two giants: Harvey Kurtzman, the mad genius behind Mad Magazine, and Carl Barks, the stealthy wizard behind the Donald Duck strips who unknowingly became Crumb’s artistic lodestar. But let’s face it—everybody learned from Crumb, whether they admit it or not. No Crumb equals no Art Spiegelman, Chris Ware, or Daniel Clowes. As Spiegelman himself noted, “Every cartoonist must pass through Crumb to discover their voice.” Who knew discovering your voice would feel so much like a rite of passage through a psychedelic wormhole?
Now, while Crumb may have embodied the rebellious spirit of the ’60s counterculture, he often seemed like a time traveler straggling behind. His passion for collecting ancient 78rpm records screams “I’m more into the vintage vibes than your flower power.” Sure, his anticorporate politics make him sound like a modern-day superhero, but more often than not, he’s simply reflecting the chaotic world around him, occasionally peering through a funhouse mirror.
Born in 1943 into a family that could have inspired a soap opera—complete with violence, madness, and a pinch of incest—Crumb’s childhood was less of a walk in the park and more of a nightmare on repeat. His older brother, a kindred spirit with whom he created his first comic, tragically succumbed to mental illness and addiction. And let’s just say Crumb’s neuroses are the culinary spices to the daring recipe of his career. Yum!
Let’s address Crumb’s rather spicy baggage. His character Angelfood McSpade might be the poster child for #problematic behavior, with racial and sexual politics that would make a room full of social justice advocates start sweating. His early comics took on themes like rape… for laughs. Yup, that’s right. The excuse? Let’s just say he claims he reflects society, rather than creates it. A bold strategy, Cotton—let’s see if it pays off!
But lo and behold, rather than ending up behind bars, Crumb enjoyed a surprisingly fruitful romantic life. His first marriage, to his first girlfriend, was as shaky as a Jenga tower in an earthquake, followed by his dulcet partnership with Aline Kominsky. Ah, love in the time of underground comics—it’s a delightful mess!
Eventually, the counterculture he once thrived in seemed to retreat faster than a cat backed into a corner. He even went through a phase of trying to distance himself from the ’60s vibe. But, of course, punk rock came along, and Crumb was all in—until he was mocked in a punk fanzine as an “over-drawn cartoon has-been.” Oh, irony, how sweet you are! He then promptly killed off Mr. Natural, lamenting, “Nobody likes me anymore… I’m washed up,” which sounds strangely relatable, doesn’t it?
Now, if you thought he was just a mere caricature of himself, think again. The irony is that just as he stepped back from the mainstage, art collectors decided they wanted a piece of this quirky modern master’s past, sending his work skyrocketing in value. Yet, for all his fame, the man was a true child when it came to money—turning down opportunities that would make most artists weep with joy, like licensing toy versions of Mr. Natural or a Rolling Stones album cover. Nothing says integrity like saying no to a sweet payday.
At almost 80, Crumb lives in rural France—so apparently, he has managed to escape the inner chaos of American life. Nadel skillfully paints this “warts and all” portrait, though it did take months of cajoling to get that nonchalant shrug from Crumb. So, here we have him, the cartoonist who reveals our societal quirks while grappling with his own mental kaleidoscope—proof that irony stays alive and well in the world of underground comics.
