It might be easy, from the perspective of someone who didn’t grow up reading “Peanuts,” to dismiss Charles M. Schulz’s magnificent daily meditation on the temporary triumphs and the minor, often hilarious cruelties that come with being human.
“Peanuts,” from the outside, was an industry based on simple line drawings, a marketing platform inked in Sunday color and then 3-D printed into any godawful tchotchke you could imagine and hundreds more that you wish somebody hadn’t.
But pick up one of the approximately 3,000 available “Peanuts” collections — especially the series from Fantagraphics that simply presents the strips as they were originally put before the public, chronologically — and live in it for a time.
There, you’ll encounter the peculiar genius of Schulz’s creation, the consistent excellence as he and his characters tried to earn at least a draw in the daily wrestling match with melancholy. What might look like simple nostalgia for childhood was actually a deep, complex stew.
And it was that way from the start. The very first “Peanuts” strip, from 1950, set the tone, and it is still breathtaking.
“Well! Here comes ol’ Charlie Brown!” says one child about another. “Good ol’ Charlie Brown. … Yes, sir!”
The boy in question walks by, smiling. And then our monologuist delivers the punch line: “How I hate him!”
Kids say the darkest things.
That an empire was able to grow from this is extraordinary. American culture hasn’t been known for its embrace of nuance, but Schulz, a native Minnesotan who
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