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The Amazing, Remarkable Monsieur Campbell

Eddie Campbell at the Village Pourhouse, New York, NY

If there was any doubt that the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund knew what they were talking about when press releases billed acclaimed graphic novelist Eddie Campbell as "comics' greatest raconteur," it was allayed quickly when Campbell started talking on Thursday night at the Village Pourhouse in New York City.

Campbell, who shot to fame as the illustrator of Alan Moore's groundbreaking From Hell, has spent much of the last twenty-five years self-publishing, but much of the focus of his speech on July 31 was to call attention to the labors of his current publisher, First Second Press, which he said had done an excellent job of packaging his newest book, The Amazing Remarkable Monsieur Leotard, which was co-written with Dan Best.

The book, which Campbell explains began as an exercise in exploring the roots of American superhero comics, follows the life of Etienne, the unremarkable nephew of Jules Leotard, the original circus superstar, whose tight-fitting outfits and amazing feats of daring made him a sensation in his native France before he died of Smallpox, aged only 28. Leaving no will, he bequeathed to his nephew only a book filled with blank pages, a false moustache and what he called a dying man's blessing: "May nothing occur."

Whether or not these final words may have been truncated by a sudden death is not entirely clear in the book (or, presumably, in life), but Etienne takes them to heart nevertheless. When asked by the press outside of his uncle's room whether the Great Leotard has died, he proclaims to them that it's a foolish question, as nothing has occurred. He then travels to Paris, currently occupied by the Prussian army, and rejoins what little remains of the circus troupe his uncle had performed with, armed with his uncle's stage garb and false moustache, and sets about trying to impersonate his uncle and to keep the identity and the fame of Leotard alive.

While the bulk of the book revolves around Leotard, his motley crew of friends and how they interact with historical events as varied as the Prussian invasion, the Jack the Ripper slayings and the sinking of the Titanic, there are brief glimpses of Campbell's original vision for the project. Early on, Etienne gathers the remaining circus performers and some, whose companions have left the circus to pursue other interests or serve in the Guard, are gathered to form an unpredictably-successful act. "Le Quartette Fantastique," which means exactly what it sounds like, featured a strong man, a fire-eater who billed himself as "the master of flames," a man whose skin could stretch in bizarre ways and a former magician's stage assistant―a lovely young woman who seemed able to disappear. Later on, Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster are depicted as taking their inspiration for Superman's skintight wardrobe from Leotard.

In introducing the book, though, Campbell touched on hardly any of this. He did explain that the inspiration from the book had come from a Will Eisner quote. He said that he wasn't actually sure when or where Eisner had said it, or to whom―or even if it may have been author Michael Chabon who said it instead―but he attributed the observation to Eisner that most early superheroes had corollaries in the circus.

He quickly darted away from that line of thinking, though, distracting himself instead with the circle of friends―all suit-wearing types and not the bohemian sort that many would expect an artist like Campbell to be found socializing with, he says―with whom he shared the idea. These men, he says, are all part-time comics writers themselves, leading to the private joke that when asked how to get into comics, many people respond that the easiest way is to buy Eddie Campbell a drink.

Campbell got back to the book, saying that the reason he made sure the word "Monsieur" appeared in the title was that "The Amazing Remarkable Leotard" sounded like a book that young girls might pick up, thinking it was about enchanted dancewear, and that "when they got to the sex scene with the tattooed lady, I'd be in deep shit."

Campbell explained that he really appreciated the work put in by First Second Press to create a book with such a nice presentation. He said that early in his self-publishing career, he used to do everything to the best of his limited ability and that he once received a letter from a reader who said, essentially, that his typesetting and layout looked like shit, and that if he should need help with it, to call the reader. Campbell, saying he "liked the cut of [the reader's] jib," took Michael Evans up on the offer and the two collaborated for many years.

According to Campbell, his admiration for Evans led him to create a character called The Acolyte, based loosely on his friend and collaborator, but that Evans resented the way he was being presented and Campbell began to suspect that layout problems the book faced were being created intentionally to quietly get back at Campbell for the way he was being portrayed. Campbell thought there were only two ways to deal with such a problem: To ignore it, or to face it and confront Evans.

Instead, he chose to write a story wherein the Acolyte was sodomized and fed to pigs, hoping that his absence from the pages would satisfy Evans (it didn't). Further disagreements (which resulted from a layout snafu that had "Die Campbell Comi" instead of "Eddie Campbell Comics" appearing on the spine of many From Hell collections) between the two led Campbell to kill Evans again―this time as an ancillary character in a Batman arc he wrote for DC―and then he killed Evans a third time in his book Fate of the Artist.

"I really didn't have a good reason that time," Campbell joked, "It had just sort of become a bad habit by then."

He explained that, when lacking a satisfactory conclusion to the mystery of who had abducted Eddie Campbell in Fate of the Artist, though, these repeated fictional slayings of Evans came in handy, as Evans became the perfect culprit.

One problem with comics, Campbell observed, is that as the readership is aging, most publishers haven't come up with any way to make them easier to follow for older readers. Having written a graphic novel dealing with his own midlife crisis, Campbell jokes that he was approached at San Diego this year by a fan who said, "I loved the book about your midlife crisis, but can I get it in large print?"

No wonder the man is appreciative of First Second―how would you answer that one?

Gallery From The Event


"The book I'm pushing tonight is..."	The mountain of copies of Campbell's book offered for sale by the CBLDF at the fundraiser	Campbell being introduced by CBLDF honcho Charles Brownstein

Campbell relates an anecdote about how he first decided to kill his book designer	Campbell trying to figure out the microphone as he usually doesn't use them, but the Pourhouse is a notoriously loud place to speak	Looking through an earlier book of his, "Fate of the Artist," Campbell recounts the third time that he has killed his book designer

"'I liked the book about your midlife crisis,' this guy says to me in San Diego, 'but do you have it in large print?'"	Surrounded by friends and fans after his discussion	Campbell entertains a smaller group once most of the larger group have begun to file out.