Review by Graham Johnstone

Scottish lass Tara Togs channels fellow orphan hero Tintin, with subtitle The Silence of the Unicorns nodding to Tintin’s adventrure Secret of the Unicorn.

Hergé’s Tintin series is now nearly a century old, both enduringly popular, and critically acclaimed. It’s been adapted into various forms, but no more books were produced after Hergé’s death in 1983. So who then dares create ‘a Tintin book’ in 2024?

Stref is the (Hergé homaging) alias of Stephen White. Few will know either name, but the Edinburgh based creator’s thirty year career includes similarly venerable institutions The Broons and The Beano. The cover blurb of his collection Milk boasts “[mastery of] completely different styles,” but can he match the Belgian maestro?

Many have adopted the Ligne claire style popularised by Hergé, but few have matched the Studios Hergé’s decades-honed exemplar. Tintin pages were meticulously composed, and impressively clear, with dynamic figures poised between cartoon and illustration. The cover art distilled this further, conjuring each book’s locale and plot. Stref’s cover similarly encapsulates his Scottish adventure. Well-judged details include the single tree-trunk turning the leafy squiggles and greenery into a forest, and the thug’s gun picked out in silhouette. Hergé delegated tasks like backgrounds and painting to specialists, making Stref’s overall mastery impressive.

Inside, the first page features a mansion rendered with Hergé-level precision, while the foreground of leaves and lawns is evoked with minimal ink. The house interior is replete with art collector Lemaire’s acquisitions: from paintings in ornate frames, to busts and miniatures upon Queen Anne tables. Characters have distinctive physiques, features, and fashions. Throughout, Stref delivers impressive storytelling, visual appeal and perfectly captured details. A panel showing locals going about their business, as Nazis march into town, is a highlight, and that’s only one of eleven panels on the (Tintin ‘album’ sized) page. While Stref slightly exceeds Hergé’s standard 62 pages, few will object. 

Modernisations including a London taxi, Ford Focus, and computer tech, are all rendered convincingly Hergé-style, as are the (presumably digital) letters and colour. Indeed, the pure flat colour may be more true to the ligne claire ideal than the Hergé team’s watercolours.

The story also nods to Hergé’s real life with a prologue set in wartime Belgium. Anticipating the arrival of art-seizing Nazis, Lemaire commissions a sacrificial copy of his most precious painting. Demand and confusion over painting and forgery, fuel an intricately plotted present-day detective story. Each scene is suitably pacy, engaging and informative, with the trademark gentle humour and bursts of slapstick. Seasoned detective Heggy’s changing attitude to enthusiastic amateur Tara, exemplifies subtle characterisation, and a fine balance of humour and humanity.

Stref adds something more by mining his Scottish background. Tara’s red hair is a no-brainer as it’s common in Scotland, and mirrors Tintin. Those unfamiliar with local delicacy haggis will appreciate an exhibit of the ‘seldom seen creatures’ in their natural habitat, while a henchman being insulted with (family-friendly) Scotticism ‘numpty,’ is less obvious and more amusing. The distinctive Cirrus clouds striping the sky are a nice addition to the cover, and a neat nod to Herge’s own Scottish adventure. 

So is this a simple ‘forgery’ of Tintin? Stref foregrounds his homage, and consciously explores the idea and worth of forgery. That and further metafictional japes, like calling the forger Remi (Hergé’s real name), elevate Tara Togs above simple forgery.

Published in Scotland, via Kickstarter, Tara Togs deserves a much wider audience. It’s both loving homage, and fresh original work – full of craft, wit and charm. If you’re craving a fresh fix of Tintin, or a satisfying all-ages adventure – buy direct from the publisher with confidence.