Meet Robert Crumb: The King of Comic Quirk
Ah, Robert Crumb, or “R Crumb” for those of us who prefer our titans of modern cartooning with a dollop of mystique, is a figure shrouded in a haze of his own peculiar brand of genius. Dan Nadel has painstakingly sketched out Crumb’s life with the accuracy of a forensic artist. If you want to know everything about a man who’s half cartoon, half existential crisis, this biography is your best bet.
Crumb initially captured the attention of the mainstream with his unforgettable cover illustration for the Cheap Thrills album by Big Brother and the Holding Company featuring Janis Joplin. Those elongated, stoned characters accompanying the phrase “Keep on Truckin’” became icons, as familiar to dorm rooms as questionable takeout. But let’s not kid ourselves; he was the godfather of underground comics in the Sixties and Seventies, and the proud creator of Zap Comix. Everyone else? Just the lesser stars rotating around his orbit.
Out of his twisted imagination sprung a legion of absurdist characters, each more bizarre than the last. We got Mr. Natural, the Snoid, and Angelfood McSpade, alongside his most relatable creation—R Crumb himself. Picture an anxious ectomorph in milk-bottle specs wrestling with an inner turmoil that would make even Shakespeare take a lunch break. If neuroses were currency, Crumb would be the 1%.
Crumb lifted his pencil from the giants of yore: Harvey Kurtzman, the anarchic spirit of Mad magazine, and Carl Barks, the anonymous “good duck artist.” And boy, did everyone learn from Crumb. According to Art Spiegelman—he of Maus fame—every cartoonist must pass through Crumb’s portal to find their voice. Imagine a cosmic waiting room filled with cartoonists, nervously fidgeting until Crumb finally calls them in. Talk about pressure!
While Crumb became synonymous with the Sixties counterculture, don’t let that hip persona fool you. He’s more of a time traveler with a penchant for collecting old 78rpm shellac records than a flower child. His politics usually come with an ‘anticorporate’ label, but it’s his unflinching self-critique that steals the show. Born in 1943 to a family that could give a soap opera a run for its money, his childhood was a cocktail of dysfunction, replete with madness, addiction, and a sprinkle of incest. Robert’s survival feels like a plot twist worthy of a poorly-written sitcom.
Ah, but here comes the kicker: Crumb is what the kids call #problematic. His work features characters that could make even the most lenient critic cringe, like Angelfood McSpade—an over-the-top caricature that walks a fine line between wit and witch hunt. Rape, casually referenced in early comics, certainly raised eyebrows back then, and likely would’ve sent today’s social media into a frenzy. But Crumb simply declares: “I’m not the problem; I’m just the mirror.”
To be fair, Crumb holds nothing back in his self-scrutiny. One particularly revealing panel shows him dressed down by a woman for his myriad failings, with the caption reading “Not to be trusted.” Cue the paranoia! His eccentric sexual preferences, such as adoration for strong legs, further illustrate this peculiar character—proof that he’s both intrigued by and scrutinized as a walking caricature himself.
Now, one might assume that such a man would end up in jail or, at the very least, on some Twitter list of shame. Yet, Crumb amassed quite the romantic repertoire, marrying his first love and eventually partnering with Aline Kominsky. Sure, he may have neglected his son, but hey, what’s parenting when the groovy Sixties are calling?
Fast forward to today, where Crumb’s obscurity is interlaced with intersectional intrigue. He turned down $20,000 for Mr. Natural paraphernalia and even snubbed The Rolling Stones. So much for cashing in on fame; Crumb is like a financial monk in a world obsessed with accumulating currency. And now, he resides in rural France, a caricature of himself, accompanied by his biographer Nadel, who braved the international trek just to get a whimsical shrug from the man himself.
To sum it all up: Crumb’s life feels like an avant-garde comic strip that seems both triumphant and tragically ludicrous. In his ninth decade, he’s still living a life that seems to defy both logic and genre—just like his art. If you’re looking for answers, all you’ll find is more questions. And a wry grin.
Crumb: A Cartoonist’s Life by Dan Nadel ($25, Scribner, 458 pages). For those keen on exploring Crumb’s wonderfully twisted world, visit the timesbookshop.co.uk. Free UK standard P&P on orders over £25. Special discounts available for Times+ members.
