Customer Reviews

King Ottokar's Sceptre (The Adventures of Tintin)

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3 star:		(3)
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In which an escapist Ruritanian fancy turns into an ominous allegory for Nazi aggression. On one of those strolls with which Tintin often commences a new book, the reporter notices a mislaid book on a park bench. He returns it to its owner, the chain-smoking, Freud-lookalike Professor Alembick, an expert on seals (of the heraldic variety), who is about to visit the Balkan principality of Syldavia to look at some rare treasures. When Tintin notices some sinister types hanging around the Professor's apartment, and what seems to be a conspiracy plotting in a Syldavian restaurant, he decides to accompany the Professor. On the eve of their departure, a phone call to Alembick is interrupted by screams, but all seems normal as they leave for Klow, the Syldavian capital. Except that now the short-sighted academic can see sheep from thousands of feet in the air, and no longer smokes.

This extraordinary and unique entry in the Tintin canon is priceless for a number of reasons, the foremost of which is the utterly convincing creation of a non-existent realm so consistent in its internal details you can't believe it's not real. Central to this is the travel brochure Tintin reads on the plane to Klow, reproducing in three dazzling full-length pages the history, geography and culture of this great country, including the most amazing pastiche miniature illustrating a medieval battle and an account of the incident that accounts for the importance of the titular sceptre, Byzantine in their colour and beauty. Syldavia is a Ruritanian realm of benevolent monarchs, toy-soldier uniforms, quaint rituals, emblems and customs, all under threat from modernity in the shape of totalitarian imperialism. Its exotic magic is subtly prepared by the lengthy contrasting prelude in Brussels, all drab brown interrupted by the heavy black of the bungling Thom(p)sons. Herge is no sentimentalist, he is alive to the conformity and social rigidity of Syldavian society, but he is also in love with its precarious culture, its nobility and generosity, and makes us love and fear for it too.

The topography of Syldavia, with its castles, river-valleys and fir-lined mountains, and its culture, including the part-Byzantine, part-Modiligiani mural surrounding the throne room, offers unending pleasure to the eye. The action sequences, perhaps because the stakes are so high, reach an agonising pitch. Once again a story of such potential gravity is primarily driven by Snowy's appetite, his search for bones providing a feast of visual jokes. The Thom(p)sons are their usual luckless joy, this time a winking Tintin joining in with us in the laughter. Making 'Sceptre' even more perfect is the introduction of another recurring Herge character, the prima donna Signora Bianca Castafiore, that overweight interpreter of operatic waifs whose piercing voice tests even Tintin's goodwill, and prompts the exodus of animal life from forests whenever she drives by.

Every now and again you need something uncomplicated to read, and Tintin always does the job for me. King Ottakar's Sceptre would have to be my favourite.

Tintin finds a briefcase on a park bench, returns it to its rightful owner, and gets mixed up in a plot to overthrow the king of a small east European state. Who is behind the plot? Why are they after Tintin? And can Tintin warn the king in time?

I wish life was more like Tintin. I remember going to the local library when I was young and checking out Tintin books. One a week, we were allowed. They had Tintin, Asterix, and a few Lucky Lukes I think, but maybe I'm remembering that from a French exchange I did in school. I never really got into Asterix, but Tintin was different. Interesting adventures, detailed plots, cunning twists. His world is a simple place. People say what they feel. They don't play games. They don't say they're going to call and then don't. They don't leave their mobiles off when they said they would be in for you to call. If there's a problem, you know somehow you can solve it, and you don't end up feeling like you're wrong all the time. There aren't any messy work pressures, no relationship complications, no girlfriend issues, there's just a boy and his dog solving a crime. I grew up thinking things would be like that, but I was obviously wrong. I wish the world could be more like it is in the books, in basic colours and with a happy ending. But it's not. It's all grey areas and murkiness and there's not a lot you can do about it. Except read the books, and hope, and try and imagine what things would be like. So if you feel lost and alone and it's another long night and you can't get to sleep because you can't stop thinking about everything, why, what, where, when, who - then trust me. Tintin is the answer.

A nice peace of work by Herge (as always). Although Tintin and snowy always used to travel to existing and real places, this time they are off to Syldavia, a country of sheer imagination. I rank it a four-star because of that lack of educational element. Apart from that, a good book in the best of Herge tradition.

So begins the story of King Ottokar's Sceptre, the eighth story in the Adventures of Tintin series. One would think if one were Tintin, one would know better than to endeavor to return a lost briefcase to its owner. Although then, of course, there wouldn't be any story.

The briefcase belongs to Professor Alembick, a sigillographist (defined in the story as a collector and admirer of wax seals - I have yet to discover whether or not this is a real word). Of course, the quintessential slew of dastardly figures are immediately out to get Tintin. The eccentric sigillographist himself seems safe enough ... or IS he? ...

Eventually this adventure leads Tintin and Snowy into Syldavia (ruled by the titular king), a fictional country which was to play a prominent role in a number of later adventures. There their mission - frought with the perfunctory peril at every turn, of course - is to return the monarch's missing sceptre to him. This story is notable in that it introduces the great character of Bianca Castafiore, the world-famous opera diva who only sings one song.

The next few stories also introduce major players, and it is then that the series truly finds itself In The Zone -- perhaps not an expression Herge would have used (assuming it has a French equivalent), but personally I like to think he might have.

Tintin finds a briefcase in the ark. He returns it to its owner Professor Janus. The scholar will soon travel to Soldavia to study artifacts including the Royal Scepter, which must be in the possession of the king at a yearly ceremony, in order for him to remain in power. As Tintin leaves the professor's apartment he notices that he has been photographed. As he tries to find out why, he stumbles on a plot to steal the scepter...

After The Black Island, which was mostly chase scenes and action, it was nice to see some mystery. The story here was fairly straightforward but the way in which it unfolded kept me guessing. For example we don't learn who is after the scepter until it has been stolen and Tintin is trying to find out how and why. This was a good little suspense mystery and up to quality of other books in the Tintin series.

Tintin's adventure in the Balkans perhaps doesn't have the same exotic allure as his excursions to the Andes, to Tibet, to the Sahara or the Moon, and consequently King Ottokar's Sceptre is somewhat underrated among the Tintin collection. Hergé however puts no less effort into his research and his creation of a political background for the state of Syldavia, going as far in this book as to include a brief brochure laying out the troubled history of the nation that comes across as realistic and authentic, giving the story a little more political depth.

The story doesn't skimp on action and intrigue either, Tintin's investigative nose getting him into a lot of trouble when he refuses to take the hint and mind his own business. Returning a lost briefcase found in a park to a professor in the study of ancient seals, Tintin gets wind of something suspicious going on related to Syldavia and volunteers to accompany the professor on his visit there acting as his assistant. Even Professor Alembick starts behaving strangely as the trip commences, but before he can act on his suspicions, Tintin finds himself ejected from the small aircraft while they are on their way to the capital Klow.

The story's plot to overthrow the King of Syldavia is a product of the time of its writing, King Ottakar's sceptre being originally serialised in the Petit Vingtième from August 1938 to August 1939, the situation between Syldavia and Borduria reflecting the Anschluss of Austria by German forces in March 1938. It's no coincidence then that the name of the author of this plot, Müsstler, is made up of a combination of Mussolini and Hitler.

As one of Tintin's earlier adventures, the artwork here isn't always as slick and polished as it is in some of the later books, (often done in collaboration with the assistants at Hergé's studios), although when redrawn for collected publication in this edition, Edgar P. Jacobs (Blake and Mortimer) was employed to redesign Syldavian costumes, work on new backgrounds and the recoloring of the story, adding considerably to the whole feel of the work. The sense of pacing here however is pure Hergé and classic Tintin, purposefully driving the story forward, leaving little visual clues and puzzles to be worked out. The story achieves a wonderful balance then between action and intrigue, with every page revealing another little twist or amusement (including the first appearance from our diva Bianca Castafiore) as the story gains momentum.

This is pretty much Tintin's last "solo" adventure - in the next book The Crab With The Golden Claws he meets Captain Archibald Haddock, and the pair are inseparable forever after. This book also has some unusual aspects - it is here that the cold war re-enters the picture, albeit several years before it officially begins; while Tintin in the Land of the Soviets dealt with the Communist menace, ensuing books dealt with more far-flung matters (India, China, the Congo, America, South America), with a hint of Nazi menace in The Black Island (the title was banned by the Nazis during their 1940-1945 occupation of Belgium); King Ottokar's Sceptre deals with the possibility of war in the Balkans, and is Herge's first book to be published under the occupation (he published six titles during these years, each of them trying to be as apolitical as possible: King Ottokar's Sceptre, The Crab With The Golden Claws, The Shooting Star, The Secret of the Unicorn, Red Rackham's Treasure and The Seven Crystal Balls).

The story starts off with Tintin befriending another eccentric professor, Hector Alembick, a world-famous sililographist. Somehow, this leads into an adventure where Tintin becomes the quarry of counter-agents from Syldavia (that is, they're Syldavian but they want to overthrow the government so that neighbouring Borduria can take them over - the referenced countries may be Romania and Bulgaria, respectively). Thompson and Thomson stage a re-appearance (where they detective-like treat Tintin with suspicion, probably the last time they behave with any sort of professionalism), someone gets amnesia (happens a lot in Tintin from this issue onward), Tintin survives a fall from a plane without a parachute, he deals with loyalists and traitors, and Bianca Castofiore makes her first appearance. Wily Tintin survives various attacks and betrayals, finally getting past the corrupt royal aid-de-camp Colonel Jorgen (who is un-named in this book, but is called Jorgen when he re-appears in Explorers on the Moon). He helps the king, he works on the case of the missing sceptre, he does another border run (viz The Broken Ear), he steals another plane (viz The Black Island, sorta), and the story ends happily ever after.

Herge, King Ottokar's Sceptre (Methuen, 1939)

Ah, Syldavia, made-up country where one can get into endless trouble if one is a young Belgian reporter. Tintin and his newfound friend Professor Alembick head to Syldavia to study the country's governmental seal, for Alembick is an authority on such things. Problem is that while they're there, the country's crown and sceptre are stolen, seemingly by Alembick, and Tintin, along with Thomson and Thompson (they all became friends again at the end of the last volume, natch), have to figure out where the sceptre is, where Alembick has gotten off to, and why the seemingly harmless absent-minded professor had such a sudden change of heart.

More of the series' development to be found here, as Herge got farther away from using real places (and offensive caricatures of their inhabitants, for which he later apologized) and started using fictional places as allegories. I hadn't read the Tintin books since they were serialized in Children's Digest in the seventies, and I must say I'm rather surprised at how well these have held up over the years. Very good stuff. *** ½

First published in French in 1939, and written at the time that Europe was under the thumb of totalitarianism: Hitler, Mussolini, and Stalin.

Tintin is taken through a sequence of strange vents to the mythical Kingdom of Syldavia, which we learn much about in this book. The drawings and information which bring this country to life : a combination between Zenda and Albania , are amazing .

A plot by Fascists based in neighboring Borduria is hatched to unseat King Muskar, involving the seizure of the symbol of the Syldavian monarchy, the mediaeval King Ottokar's Scepter.
Tintin is called to the rescue. Once more these charming comics are an interesting commentary on events at the time, through the eyes of Herge.

I thought that this book was really interesting, fun and easy to read. The pictures made it more lively and colourful, and helped make the book really funny. I couldn't put the book down.