Tintin also represented a jump in sophistication in the types of books I was reading. Up to that point, I had been reading books about talking animals, fairy tales, and those books that straddle the uneasy line between full-blown picture books and more text-heavy stuff. TINTIN AND THE CIGARS OF THE PHARAOH cannonballed into that sweet and gentle (and dull) pond.
What a rush! I remember trying to figure out how to read it: what order the speech bubbles went, whether Tintin could hear Snowy talk, and trying to figure out if Thompson and Thomson were twins or not and whether to pronounce the P, and if so, how?
I remember reading Tintin to my youngest sister on the couch, and trying to decide what type of voice Snowy should have (high and squeaky). I was so excited about it, I had to share. I don’t remember if she asked me to read it to her or not, but I wouldn’t be surprised if I approached her to do so.
As for TINTIN AND THE PICAROS, I mostly just remember the cover. Something about Tintin getting involved in some hijinks in South America somewhere. As there were at least one or two other books set in South America, they do blend together quite a bit. My memory of comics has always been spotty, but I suspect that PICAROS was less memorable for other reasons. It’s no EXPLORERS ON THE MOON, that’s for sure!
I’ve tried to read some Tintin to my own children, but nothing doing. I expect it’s something they’ll have to discover on their own. I’ve never responded well when people have tried to tell me what to read, either.