Robert Crumb, or “R. Crumb,” as his signature so subtly implies, is like the towering oak in the forest of modern cartooning—mighty yet somewhat… peculiar. Dan Nadel’s fastidiously detailed biography offers a tour guide’s map to this misfit’s mind and artistic empire.
For ages, Crumb was best known to the mainstream for his quirky illustration on the cover of the Big Brother and the Holding Company/Janis Joplin album, *Cheap Thrills*, and those delightfully elongated stoned figures flaunting the slogan “Keep on Truckin’” that invaded dorm-room walls and muddy trucker mudflaps alike. But that was merely a spillover; he was the mastermind of underground comics during the ‘60s and ‘70s, and the illustrious cover artist behind *Zap Comix*.
From the magical land of LSD-inspired imagination sprang forth a pantheon of absurdist characters—bizarre, lustful, and philosophically scabrous creations, all alive thanks to his iconic hatching technique. Who could forget Mr. Natural, the Snoid, Angelfood McSpade, and even Fritz the Cat? And let’s not overlook his greatest—and perhaps most troubling—creation: the lanky R. Crumb himself, the expression of a man bubbling with anxieties and unfiltered resentments.
Crumb’s influences? Take a gander at Harvey Kurtzman, the Mad magazine visionary, and Carl Barks, the kind soul behind the Donald Duck strips whom young Crumb affectionately dubbed “the good duck artist.” Yet who knew that behind every great cartoonist lurked a Crumb-shaped shadow? Nadel argues that without Crumb, we’d be living in a world void of Art Spiegelman, Chris Ware, Joe Sacco, Daniel Clowes—all of them mere flickers of what could have been. Spiegelman himself quips: “Every cartoonist must pass through Crumb. Encountering him is like fast-forwarding through creative evolution, just to discover your voice.” Talk about a rite of passage!
Despite his iconic status in the Sixties counterculture, the man emerged from the depths of nostalgia. Crumb is a collector—his passion? Old 78rpm shellac records. And as for his cartoons, they’ve got one foot in the 19th and early 20th centuries. His politics may lean broadly anticorporate, but they largely serve as a filter for his relentless self-examination.
Born in 1943 to a lower-middle-class family amidst familial chaos—think operatic unhappiness laced with anger, madness, and the occasional brush with incest—Crumb’s upbringing was a veritable soap opera. An older brother, who used to sketch comics alongside him, tragically never escaped their grim family narrative, succumbing to mental illness and drug abuse. That Robert made it out alive is a small miracle, and his neuroses? Darling, those were the fuel for his cartooning flames.
However, Crumb is the quintessential example of what today’s youth might label #problematic. Angelfood McSpade is but one example of his hyper-stereotyped, ironically caricatured characters, making you question if he’s merely reflecting a society filled with racial and sexual complexities. And those early comics? Let’s just say that they flirted with very questionable themes—including jokes about rape, as evidenced in a 1968 edition of *Snatch* that featured “Jail Bait of the Month.” His defense? Candor, naturally; after all, he’s not creating these societal issues—he’s simply holding up a mirror to reflect their ugly truths.
Crumb’s self-indictments come through in how he presents his flaws and foibles, scrutinizing both himself and the worst aspects of the culture he originates from. Nadel even includes a panel where Crumb dons a humbled expression, listening to an irate woman lay into him. “Chauvinist pig… white male privilege… pervert…” Her words blend into an incomprehensible haze, while beneath it all, Crumb is depicted thinking, “@*!!! BITCHES.”
His peculiar sexual predilections are as distinctive as his artistic style; a particular fixation on women with robust legs seems to permeate his works. He relished piggyback rides with a zeal that often bordered on possessiveness. “Some men hug a little too long; Robert just jumps right in,” Nadel explains. If Crumb were a 21st-century man, he’d probably have a *Me Too* hashtag trending against him, but back in his era, his antics were met with a more apathetic collective shrug from society.
Despite skating on thin ice, Crumb enjoyed a smorgasbord of romantic escapades. His first marriage—based on the classic trope of being with the first woman he ever slept with—fell apart due to, well, neglect. However, he found something resembling happiness in a long-term partnership with Aline Kominsky, marked with the same non-exclusivity that characterized much of his life.
In the mid-‘70s, the counterculture that had once idolized him took a step back, and so Crumb retreated into a more realist mode of expression, displaying his talents through projects like Harvey Pekar’s *American Splendor*. However, when a punk fanzine likened his *Mr. Natural* comic to an over-the-hill cartoon relic, it cut him to the quick; he promptly killed off Mr. Natural in a wave of self-deprecation. “Nobody likes me anymore,” he lamented, “I’m washed up.”
As the financial tide turned, Crumb’s work began fetching solid figures just as he slowed his creative output. Yet don’t mistake his interest in money for greed. This whimsical artist, often found peddling in the trivialities of life, remained staunchly uninterested in cash. He turned down $20,000 for *Mr. Natural* plushies, $10,000 for an album cover for the Rolling Stones—mainly because he was an artistic elitist with a loathing for their sound, and even walked away from *Saturday Night Live*. What a character!
With a monk-like integrity—and one who doesn’t exactly fit the stereotypical mold of a monk—Crumb now lives the quiet life in rural France, probably listening to vintage records while shaking his head at the world’s insanity. When Nadel finally sought his story, Crumb simply shrugged and stated, “I’m not opposed to it,” after a labyrinthine journey through travel that would make a seasoned backpacker cry.
So, as we traverse the mad landscape of Robert Crumb’s life, we find that there is indeed a method to his madness; he’s a contradiction wrapped in a comic book, and we wouldn’t have it any other way.
Crumb: A Cartoonist’s Life by Dan Nadel (Scribner £25 pp 458). For those feeling particularly adventurous, you can acquire a copy at timesbookshop.co.uk. Free UK standard P&P on orders over £25! How’s that for a steal?
