Going back a few years, to when I was rediscovering the joys of the comic book, I came to realise the high esteem in which the comic strip Krazy Kat was held, especially in America. I borrowed a collection of Herriman's comic strips from the library at Marine Parade, I think some time in the early years of this century, and certainly found it fascinating even though I wasn't quite on the wavelength required for complete fandom. I suppose a general lack of familiarity had something to do with that.
Today I came across a fascinating article by the extremely gifted cartoonist (if that's what he's regarded as) Chris Ware at the on-line NYRB that might well put me on the wavelength required. I had no idea when I was introduced to his work of the curious racial background of George Herriman, but now I do know I'm very keen to get back to the adventures of his extraordinary Kat. I did get a sense of the strange poetry of the work back then, but I suppose found it as off-putting as it was beguiling. Now I realise I was quite blind (possibly deaf) to the implications of it all.
It's an extraordinarily sad story. Entirely crazy in its way, reflecting on our collective craziness.
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