The Mysteries (2023)

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It’s been almost 30 years since cartoonist Bill Watterson stepped away from producing Calvin and Hobbes, and the world still doesn’t seem to be over it. With the exception of the occasional interview or cartooning themed fundraising effort, he’s become the most famous artistic recluse since J. D. Salinger, the subject of intense speculation, of stalkers and fans alike hoping to find something, anything, about their favorite artist. In this age of instant celebrity access and entitlement, Watterson’s refusal to promote himself must be maddening to them.

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That said, it’s hard to think of two artists seemingly more incompatible than Watterson and John Kascht; one a cartoonist who created the most beloved comic strip since Peanuts yet famously vanished from the spotlight, the other an accomplished caricaturist to the stars. Apart from their respect and admiration for one other, they appear to have little else in common. Since it was first announced many speculated what such a collaboration might look like, what form it would take.

Secretly and openly, many of Watterson’s most hopeful fans wished it would continue the adventures of a small boy and his imaginary tiger, or cull from that same well of limitless, boundless imagination. The Mysteries is not that book.

Wildly touted as “a fable for grown-ups”, The Mysteries has also been called a “graphic novel”, and I’m sure it will be called many other things as fans and critics attempt to unravel its sparse, ambiguous text and dark. Of its 72 pages half are illustrations, and pages containing text contain very little, often 10 words or less. But as is true of the best picture books (even those created for children and adults alike) length isn’t nearly as important as depth, a mix-match of calculus and psychology that’s rare in publishing.

It will take you longer to read this review of The Mysteries than it will take you to read The Mysteries, though I’m certain the book will stay with you long after this sentence has been forgotten.

In a way the vague, almost cryptic “plot” isn’t quite as important as its presentation as there are no real characters, no real narrative, little to grasp onto other than a sense of impending – and inescapable – doom. It could be summed up like this:

“The Mysteries terrify the population. Once captured, however, and their powers become understood by those who once feared them, they become less and less frightful.”

For many, the real disappointment to the story (or lack thereof) within The Mysteries it’s the disappointment how Watterson and Kascht leave us to interpret things for ourselves. Blame the Disney-fication of storytelling for convincing the world that we need these things to carry us through to the happily ever after ending. Or that things even need to end, much less happily.

But what does The Mysteries have to say? Perhaps it’s climate change? A nihilistic condemnation of Man’s folly against God or science? Or a reminder that none of us will ever cheat the ultimate mystery, death itself. I’m sure different people will interpret the book’s message in different ways. Which is as it should be. Maybe there’s no message at all.

Most will focus on the artwork, however, which is exquisitely rendered in gorgeous black and white images that evoke its difficult creation as a mixed-medium product of two wildly different, almost incompatible artists. This is true chaos and creation, where clay-like figures exist against lushly painted backdrops. The people are especially lumpy, grotesque, and delightful, looking like things Berkeley Breathed might have drawn, minus the color. It’s both easy and difficult to see where Watterson’s contributions meld with Kascht’s creations, which may have been the intention of both.

Regarding the expectations Watterson fans may have about The Mysteries and inevitable comparisons to Calvin and Hobbes, it would be impossible to talk about the former without acknowledging the latter. With all due respect to Kascht, whose caricatures are incredible and worthy of their own premium collection, if The Mysteries didn’t have the name “Bill Watterson” alongside his on the cover then chances are you wouldn’t even know it existed. Remember when J.K. Rowling’s Cormoran Strike novels were published under the pseudonym Robert Galbraith and few cared until the author’s real identity became known? Fair or not, this is the burden publishers face when trying to promote something original.

But in the case of promoting The Mysteries, at least the fervor is understandable. Watterson’s strip, which lasted just ten years (a blip for the medium’s most popular features), yet quickly became the most beloved comic strip of not just its time, perhaps of all-time, excepting Charles Schulz’s Peanuts. But just saying “beloved” isn’t enough. His inky lines, juxtaposed against lavish watercolors captured everything from space battles, realistic dinosaurs, and killer snowmen, the tranquility and banalities of everyday life contrasted against the possibilities of the imagination. Watterson was able to prove conclusively, absolutely something many of us intrinsically knew already: comic strips were art, or could be.

Watterson’s ever-expanding vision often necessitated changes to how newspaper comics were printed, while his mastery of the English language sent countless kids running for their dictionaries, expanding their vocabulary better than any classroom (what third-grade ever taught what anthropomorphic or transmogrify meant?). Artistically and philosophically, Calvin and Hobbes would educate their souls, awakening something inside of children and adults alike that a billion corporate driven toys and licensing campaigns never could.

Watterson would famously reject offers to merchandise his characters, the idea of turning them into what he called “plush garbage” unimaginable. Maybe he was helping his creation to retain their own mysteries?

Following his departure in 1995, however, the comic pages were never the same. Whether this was the result of the medium’s inevitable decline as the internet replaced newspapers or maybe it signaled something more consequential, that daily “funnies” had been perfected. While there are many wonderful webcomics available and good daily strips are still being made, there were signs that maybe fans didn’t want new comics; they just wanted more Calvin and Hobbes. On that, Watterson would hold steadfast. Whether he intended this or not, there may have been few “mysteries” left for comic fans once Calvin and Hobbes went forever exploring into the great unknown.

Dr. Seuss’ final book “Oh, the Places You’ll Go!” was the perfect culmination of a career that was instantly familiar to his millions of fans raised on his particular artstyle and wordplay, yet sophisticated in its messaging and worldview. Likewise, even Watterson’s onetime “rival” cartoonist Berkeley Breathed (Bloom County) fashioned a second career crafting picture books like “Mars Needs Moms” and “Flawed Dogs” in his distinct style that could be enjoyed by both younger and older readers.

Bill Watterson and John Kascht don’t quite achieve this level of synthesis with The Mysteries, but it was probably a mistake to assume this was the intent of such an unusual collaboration that was, by their own accounts, rocky at best. I suspect it will be the book’s creation that will be of most interest for hardcore fans, but the best art is, of course, rocky and imperfect, the kind that lends itself to endless interpretation and self-insertion by those hoping to unlock its true meaning. Watterson’s involvement, of course, guarantees fans and critics will be debating the mysteries of The Mysteries for a long, long time.