Posted February 16, 2007on:
The very sight of Tintin fills me with an overwhelming and inexplicable joy. Those distinctive feelings and flavors of my childhood suddenly come alive and sweep over me – feelings buried deep in the soul which lie dormant only to come alive on rare occasions awakened by an odd stimulus. Those moments of pure joy spent flopped over the edge of the bed bent over my Tintin lying on the floor, which was procured after no mean effort of pleading, emotional bribing, advance planning, and cheating my fellow readers at the local library. I think I hardly budged an inch from that seemingly awkward position till I reached the end of the last page, because it was my body lying there, not me, for I was in the world of Marlinspike Hall, walks on the ocean bed hunting for treasure, being chased by red Indians in the wild American prairies, and rocket trips to the moon.
Who says true happiness is a myth?? It is not – for I have felt it.
I wonder if even Herge realized the richness of the feelings and impressions he was creating. The moments of pure joy he was creating for scores of children all across the world. Perhaps he couldn’t fathom this at all – and all the richness is a function of thriving young minds coming together with the words and images.
to be continued…..