Let’s face it: Tom Batiuk is giving us nothing to talk about anymore.
In What’s The Story, Morning Glory, I lamented the lack of any kind of actual story since Max and Hannah’s wedding in March. The two months since then have been more of the same: aimless filler weeks, tired Crankshaft tropes, and forced references to unloved latter-day topics like buck rub and the Winnipeg Blue Bombers.
I’ll let a recent comment get me started:
I almost feel like Crankshaft has to be ending next year.
Narshe
It all feels like a man who’s reached the end of the flight and is (clumsily) getting ready to land the plane.
I didn’t think this at first, but it’s getting harder to deny. I originally classified the tedious “In The Name Of The Father” as a non-story. But at least it was a Batiukian attempt at one: full of word zeppelins and pretentious award bait, signifying nothing. At least it was snark fodder. We’re not even getting that anymore. And his blog hasn’t mentioned any upcoming stories.
I’ll let Narshe continue:
We know [Batiuk] loves his anniversaries and 2027 contains a quite a few nice round(ish) numbered ones: 55 years since the debut of Funky Winkerbean, 40 years since the debut of Crankshaft, 30 years since he closed the book on John Darling by having Les solve his murder, 20 years since the death of Lisa, 10 years since Mopey met Mindy and 5 years since the end of FW. TomBa himself will also turn 80 next year.
This is all true. And if the awards-obsessed Batiuk hasn’t gotten his Golden T-Square by now, additional years aren’t going to get him one. (Though I still think he’s totally earned it.)
It’s hard to tell what’s going on in Tom Batiuk’s head. His own blog, and occasional mainstream news articles which he appears to write himself, have a very consistent tone. He presents his work as a combination of Charles Schulz and James Thurber: a cultural icon full of memorable, beloved characters, while also being a realistic literary look into the lives of downtrodden Ohioans. Except that “downtrodden” means “denied access to comic books” and “so passive they won’t lift a finger to solve their own problems.”
But man, it has to be taking a toll on his ego, especially considering how massive it is. It’s hard to keep doing something you think deserves a reward, and never getting that reward, and never even be mentioned for it anymore. The man peaked with that one Pulitzer nomination in 2008. And that second one is never coming.
I’m a generation younger than Tom Batiuk – I was born only two months after Funky Winkerbean was – and I can feel my own mortality starting to kick in. I also have a living parent who’s in their 80s now, and whose increasing limitations are obvious. Batiuk has to be noticing this in himself. And somebody has to be talking about it, if only his own wife, and other close friends who are going through the same thing.
I recently commented that Act IV (post-Funky Winkerbean) has now devolved into a gelatinous Act V. But I don’t think there’s a real reason to distinguish them. Crankshaft is still maintaining the low standard it’s had for decades; it hasn’t turned into Apartment 3-G, at least not any worse than it has been for years. The attempts at ambition are just fewer and farther between.
The end of the Funkyverse is now an inevitability. Even if it isn’t next year, it won’t be long after.
I’ve said elsewhere that Batiuk won’t quit unless and until health issues (or syndicate business realities) make it impossible to continue. And I stand by that. His whole identity is tied up in being a working writer, and he is not just going to shut that down voluntarily.
But yes – while the decline has been gradual, and we’re not at A3G levels yet, we ARE watching the long, slow deterioration of a mind.
(Although as Narshe has shown with recent posts, this may not have ever been a mind that really grasped interpersonal relationships. Or storytelling. )