I first encountered Bloom County, the renowned daily newspaper cartoon strip by Berke Breathed, in middle school. It caught my eye one day because — can you guess? — Breathed was doing a Star Wars parody in which one of his regular characters dreams that he is Luke Skywalker, with the rest of the Star Wars cast “played” by other inhabitants of the strip. (Opus the Penguin is featured as Artoo in a memorable sight gag.) As I recall, this was around the time of Return of the Jedi‘s release in 1983; I liked the cartoons so much that I cut them out of the paper and kept them in the back corner of my desk drawer for years. Unfortunately, I threw them out during a moment of extreme dumbassery following the purchase of a Bloom County collection that included the storyline. Naturally, I later realized I’d rather have those yellow scraps of newsprint for my collection of vintage memorabilia than another damn book. C’est la vie, I suppose.
In any event, I was hooked by that storyline, and I continued to read Bloom County until the end of its run in 1989. I thought it was funny more often than not, frequently LOL-funny, as we now say, and I liked the gentle absurdity that permeated the strip. Also, the frequent references to Star Wars, Star Trek, Michael Jackson, and other pop-cultural touchstones appealed to my fanboy sensibilities. And, for someone whose experience with comic strips to that point had been limited to the vacuum-sealed worlds of Peanuts, Garfield, and Beetle Bailey, a strip that referenced and commented upon current events was utterly fascinating. I know Breathed’s forays into political subjects, as well as a generally liberal perspective on things, led to criticism that Bloom County was merely a knock-off of Garry Trudeau’s Doonesbury with talking animals, but honestly, I think the similarity was a good thing. At least for me. Because I doubt I ever would’ve come to appreciate Doonesbury if the more adolescent-friendly Bloom County hadn’t prepared me first, and I do treasure Doonesbury now. In a very real sense, I owe one of my current daily pleasures to what Berke Breathed and his silly penguin were doing 20 years ago.
As I mentioned, Bloom County wrapped in 1989, and while he hasn’t been nearly as Salingeresque as, say, Gary Larson or Bill Watterson — he has created two “sequel” strips and written a number of children’s books over the past two decades — Breathed has kept a pretty low profile since then. Thus, the surprisingly candid interview I ran across yesterday was a revelation. It turns out Berkeley Breathed is a man with regrets, who’s willing to acknowledge that he was something of an ass in his younger days, and who doesn’t think much of his own talents or creations. I found him to be much more likable than I expected to. If you ever had a stuffed Opus doll — and my Loyal Readers aren’t wrong in assuming I still have mine! — go give it a read.
In a related note, the first volume of a new series of hardcover books collecting every Bloom County daily and Sunday strip (many never before reprinted, as the publicists say) is now available. It looks like a desirable addition to the library, and it’s even reasonably priced. If anyone would like to get me a late birthday present (or an early Christmas gift), there’s an idea for you.
Postscript: In looking up those Star Wars parody strips I linked to above, I was startled by the prescience of this one… how weird that Breathed came within a year of getting it right! And that he anticipated how the fanboys would one day turn on the Great Flanneled One!
