Polly and Her Pals launches our new oversized 12" x 16" hardcover "Champagne Edition" series with what historians and critics consider one of the essential masterpieces of comic strip art. Polly debuted in 1912 as one of the first "pretty girl" strips, but it was in 1925 that Cliff Sterrett's magnificent Sunday pages entered their peak period, as he developed a style with distinctive surreal perspectives, abstract backgrounds, and bold, vibrant use of color. Art Spiegelman says, “Polly and Her Pals is a glorious composition…a happy pop synthesis of Art Deco, Futurism, Surrealism, Dada, and Pure Cartoon.”
Polly and Her Pals has long been among my favorites of the comic strips of the early 20th century, ever since encountering it in the pages of The Smithsonian Collection of Newspaper Comics many decades ago. Polly herself is barely in these Sunday strips, which are more devoted to the antics of her Maw and Paw.
What really makes these sing for me is Cliff Sterrett's cartoony expressionism and sense of pacing. There's enough … I don't know … jazz to these strips to place them in a class with Frank King or George McManus or George Herriman or even Bill Waterson. We're talking comics for the ages here. The one selected for the back cover is gorgeous, a wordless sequence of exaggerated staircases and an almost mythical quest for a couple of cups of water, with an ending that pays off nicely. I also really love the moment from the last strip in the book where a fox is reunited with its family. Their joyous reunion never fails to warm my heart.
There are moments that haven't aged well. The first strip in the book is set at a minstrel show with Paw and a couple of others in blackface. It's copyright 1925–actually appeared in papers January 3, 1926–so clearly a product of the times, but it did make this modern-day reader squirm a bit. It's not the only racist caricature in the book--Polly's family is well-to-do enough to afford a Japanese servant, Neewah, who sprinkles his dialog liberally with “honorable” (shortened to “hon.”) in front of most nouns. It's certainly not unusual for the 20's and I doubt any outright animosity on Sterrett's part was intended, but I can see how it might be a sticking point these days.
I don't know why I didn't track these books down long ago. They were published in the 90's after all. Probably couldn't afford them at the time. But chance has dropped used copies of the first two volumes into my lap, and time certainly hasn't dulled their charms. Highly recommended!
A Sunday sampling of Sterrett's classic strip. I found it enjoyable enough, but the introduction's comparison of the work to that of Herriman and McKay seems to me ...exaggerated. Sterrett does indeed have a unique eye and sense of design--the strip echoes aspects of fine art such as Cubism and is often visually intriguing--but there's more to great comics than interesting visual patterns. The gags are generally not particularly strong. I don't think I actually laughed out loud once during the entire book. They're not bad gags, just generally fairly mundane ones; as a rule, they seem rather pale in comparison to the art, so the overall impact is dulled. I am glad to have read this and do recognize Sterrett's genius, but it's not particularly my thing.