I DISCOVERED Tintin for the first time in a house in the village of Marly-le-Roi, a few kilometers from Paris, where I used to go when there was a break from lectures. It was 1965. One night, I saw a pile of illustrated storybooks in the corner of the room. I picked them up. And I couldn't stop reading themand laughing over and over: humor is the first (and final) attraction of these comics.

My host in the dining room could hear me laughing away to