Examples of the cartoons that were published in collaborating periodicals and books

Vandersteen himself always denied having produced those drawings, but the rumours did not rest.  In an attempt to finally silence the matter, Standaard Uitgeverij, up to this day the publisher of Vandersteen’s work, and Vandersteen’s children asked an independent research group of historians to to look into it.  Based on payments ledgers, and of lists of names and aliases, which they discovered in the files of important post-war collaboration trials, these researhers have now confirmed that Vandersteen indeed was the artist of the illustration in question.

Vandersteen’s heirs are understandably quite stricken by this unexpected turn of events.  In his later work, and in his personal life, Vandersteen always had a positive message of tolerance and justice.  And even while he was working for collaborating magazines, he also drew comics that derided the occupier and promoted the cause of the resistance.  A book is currently in the making which should shed a light on Vandersteen’s motivation for these actions.

Bert The Boy-scout, signed work by Vandersteen from 1944

Vandersteen was extremely popular in Belgium and the Netherlands as the creator of Suske en Wiske, amongst others.  He was also the founder of the Studio Vandersteen, which for a long time would produce the Bessy series, which would become a million-seller in German-speaking countries.  He is widely recognised as one of the founding fathers of the Flemish comics scene, or even European comics in general.

Yes, this little post is once more about Pieter De Poortere and his anti-hero Boerke.  I know I tend to hammer on the same nail sometimes, but this time I have good reasons for it.  Not only is Pieter one of the best cartoonist in Europe today (and I’m choosing my words), and his Boerke gags are unsurpassed in their combination of sweet and cute graphics mixed with dark and cynical subject matter, in his newest book, The Son Of Hitler, Pieter is lifting everything he’s done before up to a new level.

This book, his first for the French comics giant Glénat, is not just a loose compilation of page gags in which Boerke stumbles stupidly in one painful situation after the next, it is no less than a retelling of one of the greatest tragedies of the 20th century, the Second World War. In six short chapters, the different phases of the War are presented, from its earliest roots in the German defeat in WWI on, right through to the new life for escaped Nazi war criminals in certain parts of South America.  When a young corporal, who is simply called Adolf, gets wounded in the trenches, he is comforted by a local nurse.  He flees back to Germany, leaving her behind with their freshly produced offspring, Boerke.

After the well-known assassination attempt on Hitler, it turns out that he’s no longer able to have children, which leaves the future of his political dynasty in dire straits.  With the help of his Nazi Doctors he and his lover Eva create a sort of Frankenstein monster (this part is sounding almost like a Mignola short story for Hellboy! – Joe).  When a second bomb kills this child (who looks suspiciously like another well-known quiffed comic hero), Adolf receives news of his other son, who’s supposed to be living in occupied Belgium.  Boerke, in the mean time, has managed to get himself transported to a concentration camp, together with an RAF pilot and a little Jewish girl he had been hiding in his basement.  Hitler manages to rescue him, and Boerke is ready to take up his role as Fuhrer-to-be.

(Boerke find himself deported to one of the most despicable places ever conceived, the concentration camps, in Le Fils d’Hilter by and (c) Pieter de Poorter, published Glénat)

The whole book is a rollercoaster of every possible cliché in the genre of the World War II story: Jewish refugees, the French resistance, demonic medical experiments, and, of course, Hitler, Stalin and Churchill, all thrown together in a romp that is at once devilishly funny and at times unsettlingly cringeworthy.  No subject is sacred for DePoortere, who manages to combine seemingly totally unrelated elements to a new and hilarious concept (in one of the best passages in the book, Boerke dresses up as a female prisoner in order to be able to find his Jewish girl, only to find himself thrown out her compound, which is reserved for lesbian prisoners – even with the gruesome reality that this fragment brings to your mind, you can’t help but laugh at the sheer stupidity of the situation).

In terms of graphical style, De Poortere has even perfected his storybook-like graphics to a new language, a sort of evil bastard son of the Ligne Claire.  He tells his story in a deadpan, monotonous manner, using nine panels on every page.  As a hilarious bonus, each new chapter is preceded by a “where’s Wally”-like spread, in which you have to find the main character of the chapter, but which also contains hints of what’s to come, references to all kinds of movies, television series and books (try and find René’s mother, for example), and little in-jokes.

(“Ou est Adolf?” Showing the fun side of trench warfare with a Where’s Wally style spread in Le Fils d’Hilter by and (c) Pieter De Poorter, published Glénat)

Like I said, with this book De Poortere is treading on dangerous ground.  Previous books saw Boerke confronted with taboo situations as well, but up till now, his creator has never tried to really go as far as possible on his subject.  I’m not sure if an English or American publisher is going to be willing to bring out an English edition of this book (in Dutch the book was only published after the name of Hitler was left out of the title), but even if that’s not the case, it hardly contains any text, so reading it should be a problem even if you don’t read a word of French.  Take a gamble, and get this book.  You will not regret it.

Pieter De Poortere, The Son Of Hitler (Le Fils d’Hitler), published by Glénat, 2010.  ISBN 9782723470735, 15 EUR.

(then and now – Sidney ‘George’ Strube in the Daily Express from 1940, illustrating simply but effectively the transformation from peace to wartime Britain and the way everyone and everything was pressed into service)

And any British newspaper cartoons from the Second World War has to include an example from David Low – here his famous work from just after Dunkirk and the fall of France, “Very well, alone”, in the Evening Standard, 1940:

Years before I actually saw this I had, as a teen, read the great Spike Milligan’s humorous war memoirs, starting with Adolf Hitler, My Part in His Downfall. Early on in the first volume Spike had drawn a cartoon of himself, shortly after being conscripted, still lacking uniform except for tin helmet and webbing, standing on sentry duty in the south of England in his pinstripe suit with army helmet with the text “Very well, alone”. It was years later before I first saw Low’s famous cartoon and realised that Spike was paying homage to it (Spike also remarked in a later volume that he was convinced the British sense of humour was a major component in eventual victory). The ‘Dunkirk spirit’ is a phrase that entered the British vernacular after 1940 and both the events and the cartoons by artists like Low from that period have continued to influence much later artists, as a browse through the invaluable British Cartoon Archive site on the search subject ‘Dunkirk’ will show – a goodly portion of the results are for political and editorial cartoons from across the seven decades following that crushing defeat which became a strange beacon towards later victory, such is the way it is embedded into the cultural landscape here. Here’s Nicholas Garland from the Telegraph in 1998, referencing Low but with “Very well, together” instead as a comment on European parliamentary elections.

And here’s Garland again, this time on the 50th anniversary of Dunkirk back in 1990 in the Independent:

Here’s to the bravery of the people who stood up against vile tyranny, against all the odds, and the cartoonists who used pencils as effectively as others used the sword. It’s also worth remembering that cartoonists from the editorial variety to those working on kid’s comics like the Dandy and Beano were on a hit list for the Gestapo, should the Nazis ever have managed to invade Britain; they were earmarked to be rounded up by occupying forces if they had made it across the Channel, because of their wartime strips and cartoons against the Nazi regime. There was more than one way to be on a front line in the fight. There’s an absolute wealth of historic cartoons in the British Cartoon Archive online, which I highly recommend bookmarking for further browsing; the BBC site has a large number of articles and video pieces on the 70th anniversary of Dunkirk online.

(some scenes from Frans Brouwer’s illustrated journal of the Nazi occupation of the Netherlands from Bezetting in Beeld, published Matrijs)

In one of the first letters, Brouwer tells how he has a cold because he has been standing in his doorway without a coat, talking to his neighbour.  “That neighbour is a very intelligent man, who some years earlier passed the Mayor’s Exam (cum laud !) and has now gone through a three-month study period, which is quite something for a grocer who’s out of a job.  He’s been waiting for his appointment for two years now.  He told me there’s a serious shortage of towns, and that’s why he hasn’t been appointed yet.  He hates waiting, and he hates other things too, such as when you say that things are going OK.  He really minds when you tell him he bought his suit unofficially.  The other day he was standing on my doorstep with his one hand held high.  I asked him if he couldn’t reach the doorbell, and then he told me to go to hell (which wasn’t very nice)”.

And on May the 5th, the day of the liberation of Holland, Brouwer draws the German soldiers making their hasty retreat on all kinds of vehicles or on foot – even with dog carts:

The art and the tone (as well as the subject matter, of course), somehow reminded me of Edmond-Francois Calvo and Victor Dancette’s classic La Bête est Morte, especially in its preference of crooked and slanted lines (which was quite in favour in Dutch illustrative art in the middle of the 20th century).  Even if you don’t read Dutch, this is an important book, bringing a personal insight into the hardships of Nazi occupation (with touches of the humour which helped bear it), and it’s a beautiful book to boot.

The book is available from Matrijs, for 19,95 EUR.  It was presented to the general public in the Dutch National Occupation Museum in Groesbeek, which also hosts an exhibition of the comics until the end of the year.

Wim Lockefeer lives in Belgium, which along with its neighbours also suffered through the dark days of Nazi occupation; you can read more of his comics musings on The Ephemerist blog

I love the British Isles reaction to the German attack through Belgium “you wanker” and the donning of the war moustache is a great touch (and indeed a great ‘tache). Angus also has a similarly (and again deceptively simply but actually bloody clever) strip condensing the history of the Second World War as well – see below for a snip – so  go and check it out. (link via Boing Boing, art by and (c) Angus McLeod).