I believe it was a introductory essay to one of the original Calvin and Hobbes collections that taught me the phrase "Bullwinkle effect" (something that is "funny at five, funnier at fifteen, and hilarious at twenty-five" - a handy phrase to describe a phenomenon that not only ages well but spans generational gaps). That explanation works for Bullwinkle -and Monty Python - and Ren & Stimpy - but, honestly, doesn't apply to Calvin and Hobbes, the thing I recall the phrase was posited for. Because Bullwinkle ultimately caps out at "hilarious." It reaches its peak in its third appraisal. Whereas Calvin and Hobbes transcends and transcends and presumably transcends some more. I've been a fan of Calvin and Hobbes since year one. Now, in my late thirties, Calvin and Hobbes isn't merely "hilariouser" than it was ten years ago; it's positively sublime. And sweet. And beautiful.
I was pleased that Bill Watterson feels the final two years of the strip represent his best work. He feels it is the best work he was personably capable of - hence the reasoning behind retiring the strip in 1995. This is not the same as a cultural enigma choosing to "go out on top." It is something reserved for true artists and literary voices. I recall Watterson's months-long sabbatical in 1993. When he came back to work in 1994, it was literally epochal. Calvin and Hobbes had changed - and it had the feeling of being in a final cycle. Even at the time, it seemed clear that Watterson was building to a climax.
I also recall watching Peanuts age and age and age. There was nothing morbid about Peanuts's transition into old age. And, in many ways Schultz found the same serendipity in his fin de seicle voice as Watterson, only on a longer, less certain scale. But Peanuts stopped being imminent decades before his final 90s strips. Peanuts, spanning five decades (!!!), is an opus. Aficionados and students alike feel a need to contextualize it, as it applies to the social situations of, first, the 1950s, then the 1960s, then the changing perspectives of a middle-aged man - then a superannuated one - living in an increasingly foreign century. In it, the fundamental weirdness, pathos, and serendipity of Peanuts is overshadowed leaving us with something more academic than sublime. I would not have wanted to see Calvin and Hobbes share that fate.
It's also wonderful to experience Watterson explaining himself. Exploring Calvin and Hobbes has the most comprehensive interview with Watterson I've ever come across. In it, he debunks the popular narrative of himself as the Salinger of the comics world, or as a sanctimonious elitist. We see, satisfyingly, that he's actually just an intelligent person with well developed opinions and the confidence and principles to allow them to drive his decisions. Watterson's reputation as a highly principled paragon of integrity is strengthened here.
This is a catalog to an exhibit that was, undoubtedly, well curated (why didn't I take advantage of a friend living in Ohio as an excuse to see the show in person?!). I long for a book that gives a closer inspection of Watterson's influences (I got Peanuts and Pogo on my own (and am I alone in seeing traces of Peyo too?), obviously but didn't have the familiarity with Flash Gordon to catch that without being shown). But I really wish we could hear Watterson talk more. 130 pages is a poor way to reflect on Calvin and Hobbes. There's really no substitute for my experience of being seven when it debuted and eighteen when it ended and being present and devouring it the whole time as I grew from a small child into a nascent adult. Barring that good fortune, the complete collection (worth every penny of its current $150 or so price tag) is the next best thing. Instead of 130 pages of selected pieces and brief editorial, I dream of a DVD or book of collected writing from the artist himself, explaining and sharing and generally clearing up the small misconceptions that have accrued over the years. Maybe one day.