Sean Connery and Harrison Ford had not entered my fantasies as 007, Indiana Jones or Han Solo, yet. The idiot box was already a permanent fixture in our living room, but did not get the attention it never deserved, from me. I was an avid reader, and the TV was no match; in a very short while though, the tables had turned. I was a hopeless addict, much to my parents’ dismay. I still am.

Long ago, it was Mr. Tintin: the boy reporter, who charged through my childhood and adolescent fancies. Coloured my imagination.  And I’m much obliged to him and his unbelievable creator, Herge, a pen name for Georges Remi: the legendary Belgian cartoonist.

The Marvel and DC suite of comics messed up my desk and book shelf; but it was Tintin who took pride of place. My parents had got us the entire series, we read them, re-read them, and re-read them again; relentlessly. Me and my brother couldn’t have enough of him. Sadly, only one book remains from the mother lode, I think, I hope I’m wrong. ‘Prisoners of the Sun’, luckily one of my favourites among the set. I’m sure the others might be somewhere, back in Sri Lanka, lost to time; perhaps not lost forever. My parents did not throw away anything that belonged to us; anything which we loved as kids. It’s a project for my next visit.

Tintin is a crusader for peace and justice, an incorrigible adventure junkie and forever young. He took us to exotic destinations, fought delicious villains and introduced us to foreign cultures and customs. Good won resoundingly over evil at the end; just the way I loved things to be. I still do.  There was outrageous wit in the dialogue, both obvious and subtle (nothing vulgar or base). Captain Haddock, Prof. Cuthbert Calculus, the Thomson and Thompson twins, the list is a colourful one. Each main character meticulously fleshed out, both in looks and personality; and consistent throughout the entire series. Surely, this requires genius.

It is a movie in print. Agree, the faithful TV adaptation of the entire series and the Steven Spielberg edition were wonderful. But…but, I still love the books. Coming from a convicted movie addict, this is strange. Even to me. As I said, they were motion pictures in print.

There were some kids at school, who sported the Tintin look. The high-rise shock of hair; some ended up looking like perfect clowns. They didn’t care, their fealty to their beloved hero was absolute.

I get goosebumps as I see my son, gingerly turn the pages of ‘Prisoners of the Sun’. I’ve told him about the history hidden in those pages. He knows and he cares. Both for the fragility of the book and the immortality of its hero. He’s hooked. He loves Tintin, and wants the entire set. The tradition will continue.

Are comics, literature? Yes, it is. To me it is. Herge and Tintin helped cultivate the reading habit in us and the prose in these books have artistic merit and endurance.

May he live forever.