Robert Crumb, or “R Crumb” to his friends (or just “Disturbingly Quirky Cartoonist” to everyone else), is one of the heavyweights of modern cartooning—and let’s be real, a certified weirdo. Dan Nadel’s thoroughly researched biography spills everything you must know about this enigmatic figure, with sufficient detail to last a lifetime.
For many, Crumb might evoke memories of the iconic artwork for the *Cheap Thrills* album by Big Brother and the Holding Company, featuring Janis Joplin. Who could forget those hilariously elongated stoner characters coupled with the relentless mantra “Keep on Truckin’”? But that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Crumb was the shining beacon of underground comics back in the Sixties and Seventies, and frankly, if there’s a Mount Rushmore for underground cartoonists, he’s definitely carved into it—alongside his own magazine, *Zap Comix*.
Crumb gifted us a smorgasbord of LSD-influenced, absurdist characters like Mr. Natural, the Snoid, and Fritz the Cat—none of whom you’d trust to babysit your kids. They bear witness to his unforgettable hatching style and serve as a platform for his deep-seated scorn, which he channels into his most personal creation: himself—the lanky ectomorph equipped with peculiar spectacles, battling a never-ending tide of neuroses, anxieties, and some rather questionable dating advice.
He learned the ropes from the likes of Harvey Kurtzman (the chaos-embracing genius behind Mad magazine) and Carl Barks (the man who made Donald Duck famous without ever getting credit), a.k.a. “the good duck artist.” And every cartoonist since then has emerged from the Crumb cave. No Crumb, no Art Spiegelman or Joe Sacco. It’s like saying “no Crumb, no cartooning.” As Spiegelman succinctly puts it, “Every cartoonist has to pass through Crumb. Imagine evolutionary theory meets cartooning—one peek at Crumb, and you get to discover your own voice.” Sounds daunting, right?
Ah, Crumb—the quintessential Sixties counterculture icon who somehow got lost in nostalgia. His true obsession is collecting old 78rpm records, which only makes him cooler and more retro. Even his cartoons hearken back to the 19th and early 20th centuries. He preaches anticorporate politics, but let’s be honest—most of his insights come from an unflinching examination of his own overfilled baggage.
Born in 1943 into a chaotic lower-middle-class Philadelphia family, Crumb’s upbringing was like an opera of discontent, filled with anger, violence, and a touch of familial madness—definitely not a family reunion you’d want to attend. His beloved brother, who shared a passion for comics, sadly succumbed to mental illness and addiction. Robert’s survival could very well be classified as a miracle. That he emerged as a bundle of neuroses—fueling his art—is just par for the course.
Cue the collective eye-roll when we dive into Crumb’s “problematic” aspects. His character Angelfood McSpade is unapologetically a hyper-eroticized depiction of racial stereotypes, making you wonder how deep that rabbit hole really goes. Rape? Well, it’s played for laughs in his earlier works—because of course it is. In his defense, he insists he’s merely reflecting the world’s ugliness, not creating it. So, pat yourself on the back for the privilege of living in a world where art imitates life, but perhaps with better judgment?
Now, as the drama unfolds, rather than facing jail time or a #metoo moment, Crumb navigated a series of successful—though often bizarre—relationships. His first marriage may have crumbled faster than a cheap deck of cards, but he did manage to forge a long-term partnership with Aline Kominsky, who most definitely deserves a medal. Yet even in the mid-Seventies, when the counterculture started retreating, Crumb sought redemption through a more realist style, illustrating Harvey Pekar’s *American Splendor*. But when punk rock came knocking, he was hurt—and not just because Mr. Natural was deemed a “tired-out, over-drawn cartoon has-been.” Spoiler: he killed Mr. Natural off. A real plot twist there!
Now, would you believe that Crumb’s work has started raking in serious dough just as he slowed his creative output? Talk about timing! However, it was never about the money for him—so much so that he dodged lucrative offers faster than one of his absurdist characters could say “Keep on Truckin’.” Imagine turning down $20,000 for a line of Mr. Natural stuffed animals or $10,000 for a Rolling Stones album cover because you just can’t stand their music. The depth of this monk-like character’s integrity shines brighter than any sum of cash could.
And so here we are: Crumb is now living quietly in rural France, still scratching away at his legacy, all while occasionally charming visitors like Nadel, who describes in painstaking detail the almost Herculean effort to get Crumb to shrug “I’m not opposed to it.” It took a plane ride to Paris, a train to Nîmes, and a drive through the countryside to get that admission. What a journey!
With all that in mind, it’s safe to say that Crumb’s life—and work—form a perennial enigma. For those ready to take a deep dive into the Filipino rivers of cartooning culture, Dan Nadel’s *Crumb: A Cartoonist’s Life* promises to be an illuminating experience. Bonus points if you manage to finish it without longing for some of those ’60s vinyls yourself!
