Tintin: The Shooting Star
by Hergé (Casterman, 1942)
trans. Leslie Lonsdale-Cooper & Michael Turner (Methuen, 1961)
A straightforward adventure in the style of early SF novels: a hint of the supernatural, a lashing of fantastic elements (most memorably the gigantic mushrooms and other dreamlike eruptions), but a dramatic pulse that comes largely from the sabotage- and race-to-get-there-first plots.
Mr. Pump’s Legacy
by Hergé; trans. Leslie Lonsdale-Cooper & Michael Turner (Methuen, 1987) [from Le Testament de Monsieur Pump, 1951]
![Book cover: “Mr. Pump’s Legacy” by Hergé; trans. Leslie Lonsdale-Cooper & Michael Turner (Methuen, 1987) [from Le Testament de Monsieur Pump, 1951]](https://www.derelictspacesheep.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/11/Herge_Mr-Pumps-Legacy.jpg)
Hergé’s children’s adventure series opens here with a comedic salvo (a four-page cameo from the speed-obsessed Mr. Pump) before settling into the improbable thriller/action sequences and manifold lucky escapes that dominate early Tintin volumes. Eyebrows raise at such derring-do from pre-teen protagonists.
The Valley of the Cobras
by Hergé; trans. Leslie Lonsdale-Cooper & Michael Turner (Casterman, 1957)
In this final book of the series, Hergé at last strikes the right balance, giving free reign to slapstick antics while more or less side-lining Jo and Zette (though still depicting them as adventurous mini Tintins; Jocko serves as a surrogate Snowy).
Tintin: The Castafiore Emerald
by Hergé, trans. Leslie Lonsdale-Cooper & Michael Turner (Methuen, 1963)
A truly delightful instalment. Hergé casts aside Tintin’s usual action-adventuring in favour of a manor house mystery full of playful misdirection. Even while humour and slapstick abound, he gives his fans a knowing wink (note the front cover) and subverts their expectations.
Tintin: Land of Black Gold
by Hergé (Methuen, 1972)
Land of Black Gold had a troubled creation (which ultimately shows), interrupted by the German invasion of Belgium in 1940, completed six years later and then revised twice more, ultimately being shoehorned—without a commensurate joie de vivre—into the Calculus years.