I've been paying attention to dates with the last few 'Adventures of Tintin'. The end of the stream of mostly uninterrupted stories was 'Tintin in Tibet' in 1959. Hergé took a year out before starting 'The Castafiore Emerald', an atypical album, then waited another four to wrap the series up with 'Flight 714 to Sydney'. Perhaps eventually realising how disappointing that was, he chose to wrap it up afresh eight years on with 'Tintin and the Picaros', a much more successful effort, completed in 1976. Sadly, the next key date was Hergé's death in 1983, leaving this final story unfinished.

As such, I can't judge this in the same way that I could every other Tintin album. For a start, while he had done a huge amount of work on it, it was all prep work: a hundred and fifty pages worth of notes, outlines and sketches. He hadn't completed a single panel. Therefore, when Casterman, in 1986, published 'Tintin and Alph-Art', it was a selection of those notes rather than an actual story. Bob de Moor, who had worked at Studio Hergé for over thirty years and contributed to a number of 'Tintin' albums from 'Destination Moon' onwards, including the cover of 'The Black Island', was willing to complete the story but, after an initial approval, Hergé's widow decided against it.

Therefore, what I'm reviewing is one of a number of unauthorised versions where a fan, often one of dedication and noted talent, did that work anyway just so that they could read this final 'Tintin' adventure. This particular version was drawn by Yves Rodier, a Canadian artist from Québéc who knew de Moor and is known for his many pastiches of 'Tintin' adventures, as well as some original work. It was written in French and translated into English by Richard Wainman.

As such, it shouldn't be surprising that it looks entirely like Hergé's work while being recognisably not Hergé's work. The drawing is mixed, many of the regular characters decent enough and some almost spot-on, but newer ones less well imagined, especially Martine Vandezande. Occasionally, it's even sloppy: Jolyon Wagg seems wildly out of proportion, his legs half the length of his torso. Maybe Rodier disliked that particular character as much as I do! Generally speaking, his lines and colours aren't remotely as clean as Hergé's. So I'll focus more on the story, which was his.

We're at Marlinspike Hall where Captain Haddock is having a nightmare about Bianca Castafiore bringing him a liquid breakfast, which he can't drink, because of what Prof. Calculus did in 'Tintin and the Picaros'. She promptly turns into a giant woodpecker, in a wonderful visual moment. With the captain screaming for assistance, Tintin rushes to his side and gets a sleepy punch in the face for his trouble. More importantly, the real news is that the Milanese Nightingale is at the airport. She'll be in the country for two days and wants to see her brave Hassock. It's a fun opening.

Of course, he runs for the hills, only to ironically almost bump him into her on the street, ducking into the nearest shop to avoid her. It's Alph Art, the gallery of Ramó Nash, a Jamaican artist who works with letters. He introduces himself, is shown around the gallery by the artist and suddenly there's his nemesis. His attempts at escape have failed dismally and he ends up with a perspex H for good measure. Meanwhile, the connection to art continues as Jacques Monastir, a renowned French art expert, is reported to have disappeared, his yacht Emerald found drifting off Corsica.

What's more, Emir Ben Kalish Ezab soon shows up on television, a broadcast interrupted when his practical-joker son Abdullah causes an explosion. The Emir is planning to build his own Museum of Art in Wadesdah. And M. Fourcart, the owner of the Alph Art gallery, has a message for Tintin but doesn't show up to deliver it. The next morning's paper reports that he died in a car accident, not a bad excuse as they go but a suspicious one, nonetheless. And so the reporter goes to the gallery to ask questions, which he realises are unwelcome as soon as people try to kill him, failing due to simple bad luck.

As was his habit with later albums, Hergé brings back a wealth of established characters to join a set of new ones that populate a new story. Castafiore and the Emir are only the first, alongside a swathe of expected regulars. The deep cuts begin at a performance of Endaddine Akass, a mystic of renown. He's first mentioned as Castafiore is already a fan, but there's Mr. Sakharine from 'The Secret of the Unicorn' and 'Red Rackham's Treasure', as well as Madame Yamilah and Ragdalam the fakir from 'The Seven Crystal Balls'. In Italy, Mr. Gibbons and Mr. Trickler are import-exporters who we first met in 'The Blue Lotus' and 'The Broken Ear' respectively. Much later, there's journo Christopher Willoughby-Drupe. It's a busy cast. There's even a neat dream sequence that features a cameo by the abominable snowman from 'Tintin in Tibet'. It was good to see him again.

There is another returning character but I won't name him because that way lies spoiler territory. Let's just say that he's not who he seems but he's behind everything. I believe that there are quite a few candidates for that if we're trawling the entire series. Maybe you'll guess the right one. The important thing is that the revelation works here, unlike in one earlier instalment in the series. It helps to make this feel like it would have been a relatively worthy album had Hergé lived to finish it himself, hardly one of the highlights of the series but far from the worst too.

It's also rather appropriate that the final album have such a focus on art. Unlike most comic book series, even in Europe, 'The Adventures of Tintin' were entirely conceived by one man: Georges Prosper Remi, better known as Hergé. He did have help along the way, especially late on, when a number of employees at Studio Hergé contributed in various ways, but even when he didn't draw this panel or that, he still oversaw the entire process, writing all the stories and painting most of the artwork. This oddity is the only instance where another name is credited.

I wonder if he would have inserted himself into the story somewhere had he lived, whether in the background or through more obvious comment. Ramó Nash is a strange character who creates an iconic form of stylised art. Deep into the story, there are more traditional paintings, Renoirs and Gaugins and Manets. There's even a powerful moment when the bad guys attempt to turn Tintin into a sculpture, in the fashion of the Roger Corman movie 'A Bucket of Blood'. That he's rescued, having been mostly enclosed in heated polyester, shouldn't surprise.

I liked this one, because it has a good flow and reminds enough of golden age Hergé to be worthy. It isn't quite Hergé smooth but there were definitely points when I forgot I wasn't reading one of his books. There are original works by Yves Rodier written and drawn in Hergé's very recognisable ligne claire style, but I'm not going to continue into those. Instead, I'm going to jump back to the very beginning to take a look at 'Tintin in the Land of the Soviets', the very first 'Tintin' serial, an album that wasn't available in a translated colour edition until 2017. ~~ Hal C F Astell

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