There
is nothing as satisfying as a long-running adventure series settling into full
hum. That’s exactly what you get with The
Secret Of The Unicorn, 11th installment of “The Adventures Of
Tintin.”
Our
hero is now completely established in his signature role of adventurer-detective,
“a real Sherlock Holmes” as his dog-buddy Snowy dubs him. His new best friend
Captain Haddock gets his biggest part yet, a double role in fact.
Speaking of doubles, The Secret Of The Unicorn kicks off Tintin’s first fully-realized two-part adventure with a tale of texture and complexity that leaves plenty of story for the sequel. [Earlier, The Blue Lotus sprouted from the preceding Cigars Of The Pharaoh, but those stories are very different and self-contained.]
If
not the best Tintin, Secret Of The
Unicorn is a nice place to start.
It
begins with Tintin at an open-air market buying a model ship he fancies giving Haddock.
Two men accost him, each offering him more than he paid for the model. Tintin politely declines. The model is later stolen from Tintin’s apartment, but not before yielding
a vital clue. To put it all together, he enlists the aid of Haddock, who talks about a family journal relevant to the case:
“It is the year
1676. The Unicorn, a valiant ship of King Charles II’s fleet,
has left Barbados in the West Indies and set sail for home. She carries a cargo
of…well, anyway, there’s a good deal of rum aboard.”
The
secret of the Unicorn, as it turns
out, is treasure, lots of it, the result of a pirate haul brought aboard the Unicorn after a battle. The Captain’s
direct ancestor, Sir Francis Haddock, was its sole survivor, and cryptically recorded where the treasure was hidden.
An
initial reading of The Secret Of The
Unicorn was for me one of my happiest Tintin experiences, alive with
adventure, mystery, and personality. Haddock really found his place in the
series here; the comedic and narrative elements are exceptionally well-blended.
Then
I read it again and thought: What a crawl! Everything that happens in Secret is so drawn out. You get a full
page of Tintin just trying to open a door. Nothing is resolved, either, except
for a sidebar tale of a serial pickpocket. Its main villains are bland and a
bit dim.
But
if any book can be said to succeed or fail by virtue of a single flashback
sequence, it is this one. That is because, a fourth of the way in, what had
been a minor if curious property crime in downtown Brussels explodes into a
swashbuckling mini-adventure on the high seas, helmed by Haddock’s doppelgänger ancestor Sir
Francis.
The flashback has the feel of an
Errol Flynn movie, complete with explosions, swordfights, and widespread slaughter,
all doled out at a deft comic remove. Hergé keeps the story
playful by intercutting violent flashback action with an increasingly sloshed Captain
Haddock acting out Sir Francis’s survival feats in his apartment.
The big reveal of the flashback is that Sir Francis left a
model ship apiece for each of his three sons, models very much like the one
Tintin found at the outdoor market.
“There’s
one funny detail: he tells his sons to move the mainmast slightly aft on each
model. ‘Thus,’ he concludes, ‘the truth will out.’”
The plethora of coincidences found in Secret will test the patience of many adult readers, and younger
ones, too. But I went with it anyway.
The stretched-out narrative does play havoc with Hergé’s
usual crackling pace, but also gives his story room to breathe. This not only
allows the author to invest that flashback sequence with plenty of juicy detail
(I got a kick out of all the nautical jargon Sir Francis spouts, not to mention
his constant dueling with pirate leader Red Rackham) but also tease out the
pickpocket element into its own separate story spotlighting the slapstick antics
of Tintin’s police pals Thomson and Thompson.
There is a surfeit of villains in Secret, including Red Rackham in the flashback, but the standout is
the least deadly of them, the pickpocket, a self-confessed kleptomaniac with an
orderly method for stashing loot.
“I
adore wallets. So I… I… just find one from time to time. I put a label on it,
with the owner’s name…and I add it to my collection.”
The Unicorn at full sail. Even the figurehead of the mythical creature on the bow is well detailed. Image from https://www.pinterest.com/pin/300896818829945696/ |
Note must be made of the art in Secret. It ranks as best in the series since King Ottokar’s Sceptre, perhaps since The Blue Lotus. Especially in the flashback, Hergé’s characteristic
use of clear-line or ligne claire style shows up to brilliant
effect when depicting the galleon Unicorn
with its masts and sails laid out in fine detail against a frame-filling azure
sky.
Dramatic illustrations keep popping up thereafter,
particularly when Tintin finds himself trapped in a vast vault-like space festooned
with antiques and sundry valuables. It turns out to be the basement of a posh
manor house owned by the main baddies; Tintin must engineer a frantic escape
involving many close calls and false alarms. While not very sophisticated
plotwise, this sequence draws out Hergé’s playful side.
Tintin discovers a vast collection of antique valuables as he works to uncover the mystery of the model ships. Image from https://www.books4kids.net/en/p/318/the-secret-of-the-unicorn. |
Secret
Of The Unicorn first appeared in installments in the pages of Le Soir, published in Nazi-occupied
Belgium. My English translation indicates Sir Francis is British, which makes
me wonder how the delicate matter of allegiance to a then-national enemy was
navigated.
The surrealism which featured so strongly in the prior Tintin adventure, The Shooting Star, is maintained
more subtly here, with the lengthy flashback and the kooky pickpocket who holds
the keys to all the mysteries without being the least bit concerned about any
of them.
Did World War II push the series into a more overt escapist
approach? Or was Hergé moving into a more meta
frame of mind as he matured? Tintin himself clearly changed a lot. Introduced as a reporter over a decade prior in Tintin In The Land Of The Soviets, he now has left journalism far behind. His only
interaction with newspapers here is when he notes with satisfaction a fake
story planted in one by the police.
But stepping away from reality was a blessing for the series,
giving Tintin license to venture further out into a character we can enjoy, one
not held down by deadlines or paychecks. This escape from wartime reality would
continue long after World War II was over.
Bringing together separate parchment pieces provides a
satisfying wrap-up in itself that also sets up the next adventure, Red Rackham’s Treasure. Hergé even
presses this point by having Tintin address the reader in the final panel,
telling them “…we shall certainly have plenty of adventures on our treasure
hunt…You can read about them in RED RACKHAM’S TREASURE!”
Even Haddock seems taken aback by this breaking-of-the-fourth-wall
plug. It’s an odd note to close on, but in tune with the rubbery grip on
reality that by now had begun defining this series. Things would get weirder
still for Tintin readers, and for the better.
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