“Cigars of the Pharaoh”

This week’s evergreen review goes all the way back to 1934…

By Hergé

In “Cigars of the Pharaoh,” Tintin finds himself entangled in a drug trafficking ring that will take him all the way to India. In the meantime, he meets Thomson and Thompson, two clumsy policemen whose role will progressively become more important throughout the series. Tintin, fighting against the drug traffickers of Egypt and India, meets with a few characters he will encounter again soon, such as Allan Thompson, the mysterious Rastapopoulos, and Señor Oliveira.

This book holds a very special place in my heart. This was the first comic book (or comic album, if you prefer—or even bande dessinée) I ever read. I read comic strips, but this was the first book, and boy, did it make an impression. A mysterious Egyptian tomb, a secret society, opium smugglers, gun runners, a poison that drives people insane… this was the perfect story to introduce me to the world of comic books.

This story has undergone a few revisions. The original story was published in black and white in serialization from 1932 to 1934, and collected in a comic album in 1934. When “The Adventures of Tintin” were adapted to color, Hergé considered the artwork too crude to salvage, so it was redrawn in 1955, with a few bits and pieces trimmed out or altered. The story was published in English, with a translation by Michael Turner and Leslie Lonsdale-Cooper (which is the version I grew up with). There is also a new, more accurate translation by Michael Farr released in 2016, which can be read on the Tintin app on tablets and smart phones. I own English editions of the 1934 black and white version, the 1955 color version, and the 2016 digital version, so I shall be talking about all three versions of the story (though primarily the 2016 Michael Farr translation, since I’m currently moving house and all my books are boxed up).

I consider this the book where “The Adventures of Tintin” really came to life. The previous three stories were very episodic and rather disjointed. Reading them, you can feel the young Hergé experimenting with his creation, discovering it while drawing each page. “Cigars of the Pharaoh” still has this aspect—it’s still rather episodic—but for the first time a central thread emerges that propels the story along.

It’s also the first story to build a supporting cast around Tintin and Snowy. Thomson and Thompson, the almost identical detectives, make their first appearance here (not including a cameo in a single panel of “Tintin in the Congo”) as does Roberto Rastapopoulos (not including a cameo in a single panel of “Tintin in America”). These characters go on to make a huge impact on the series as a whole.

The detectives give the story a fantastic sense of momentum too. Tintin can’t stay in one place too long before they show up to arrest him, and Tintin’s narrow escapes lead to some of the best sequences in the book. Not to mention, they shift the comedy away from Tintin. In the previous stories, Tintin’s adventures lacked a sense of real danger, since the stories had this kind of cartoon reality, where Tintin could have a bomb go off at his feet and in the next panel everything around his is destroyed, but Tintin himself is merely blackened from the blast. This was already beginning to change in “Tintin in America,” but by “Cigars of the Pharaoh,” the rules of Tintin’s universe are really clicking into place. For the most part, Tintin is the serious character now, and his supporting cast is the source of much of the comedy.

This shift is even more marked from the 1934 black and white version to the 1955 color version. in the 1934 story, Tintin is able to get past a some vicious snakes by feeding them chocolate, but in the 1955 version I doubt such a ploy would work, and elements like this have been pruned from the story. It makes for a much more tense read, and the humor that is in there lands so much better (such as when the Thompson twins run away from a grenade).

For me, the biggest joy of this story is the maturing of Hergé’s storytelling. The mysterious Kih-Oskh symbol drew me in right from the beginning, all the way through to the tale’s cliffhanger. (Yes, this is the first of a two-part story.) In the first two Tintin stories, “Tintin in the Land of the Soviets” and “Tintin in the Congo,” I got a sense that as much fun as Hergé was having, it was mostly just a game for him. The stories were a series of escalating dangerous situations—How shall Tintin get out of this one?!—they weren’t really about experiencing the world through Tintin’s eyes. That changed with “Tintin in America,” but it’s in “Cigars of the Pharaoh” where I really start to see Hergé playing with the mood of a scene.

This book also ditches the bland “Tintin in…” titles for a title that immediately makes the reader want to know more. I love Tintin titles like this: “Cigars of the Pharaoh,” “The Broken Ear,” “Prisoners of the Sun” …

In terms of the changes between the black and white and the color versions, I have to mention a particularly meta scene in which Tintin meets a fan of his adventures. The fan goes on to present Tintin with evidence: a copy of “Destination Moon,” an adventure Tintin hasn’t even yet experienced. It’s a sublime moment.

From the 2016 Michael Farr translation, published by Moulinsart

Looking at the book today, it’s surprising to see how well the colors hold up. Many comics look dated within a decade or two of their original publishing, but that is not the case here. Even as a child I remember the colors of this book jumping out at me, especially the jungle scenes, which do a nice job of separating the background and foreground elements without drawing attention to itself. When compared to the other Tintin volumes, this strikes me as the most pastel of them all, saving the more saturated colors for things like Tintin’s yellow shirt, so that he pops in every scene.

I’ve rather enjoyed Michael Farr’s 2016 translation for the most part, but every now and then it seems to stick too close to the original French, making for occasionally stilted-sounding English. For example, a letter in the early pages of the book reads:

…papyrus. He has met a young journalist of whom one should be wary. He needs to be got rid of at the first opportunity.

It reads like it was written by an English professor. The 1971 translation was much smoother in this regard:

…papyrus. Watch out! He’s met a young journalist who could be a nuisance. I want him disposed of before he gets ashore.

(Although in both cases, it could potentially be read that it is Sophocles Sarcophagus the letter writer wants killed, rather than Tintin.)

Moments like these don’t come along too often, but when they do they tend to break the spell of the book a little. As a whole though, I thoroughly enjoyed the new translation, especially as a long-term fan of the series. Certainly, it makes me look forward to Farr’s other translations (especially “The Seven Crystal Balls”).

This was the book that got me into comics and made me a lifelong Tintin fan. It’s truly one of Hergé’s best. You should check it out some time.