Canardo, Private Eye: A Shabby Dog Story


By Benoít Sokal (Xpresso Books/Fleetway)
ISBN: 978-1-85386-260-6

Artist, writer and games designer Benoít Sokal (Sanguine, Syberia, Amerzone, Kraa) was born in Brussels in 1954. He studied at the École Supérieure des Arts Saint-Luc De Bruxells, the prestigious art school where legendary creator Claude Renard (Belles Histoires de l’Oncle Paul, Aux Médianes de Cymbiola, Le Rail, Ivan Casablanca) taught and nurtured many students who would become Belgium’s modern masters of comics.

Sokal joined that select band of professionals in 1978, selling humorous strips and characters to À Suivre and striking gold early. He had been producing short, blackly comedic tales featuring anthropomorphic animals living in a world of contemporary humanity. Amongst the vast cast was a tawdry, unscrupulous, hard-drinking private detective named Inspector Canardo. Although never a true protagonist in those days, the dour duck was always around when events inevitably spiralled out of control…

The occasional series struck a chord with European audiences and soon Canardo was headlining his own series of albums. The first, in 1979, gathered those early shorts into an “Album #0” entitled Premières enquêtes and was followed by 22 more to date: the latest, Le vieux canard et la mer was released in 2013.

Dividing his time between his mallard megastar and more realistic dramas such as police thriller Silence, on Tue! (with François Rivière) and Le Vieil homme qui n’écrivait plus, by the close of the 1990s Sokal made the sideways jump from comics to the burgeoning videogames market, bringing in artist Pascal Regnauld to handle much of the illustration for his foul-feathered fowl.

Although a huge hit on the continent, Canardo struggled to find a place amongst English-speaking audiences. Sporadically released in translation between 1989 and 1991 by Rijperman and NBM for the American continent and through Fleetway’s Xpresso books in the UK, Sokal’s patently adults-only, philosophically nihilistic and bleakly moody homage to film noir came and went largely unnoticed, and I think it’s time some savvy publisher took another shot…

Volume #1 – Le Chien debout (1981 and more accurately translated as The Standing Dog) became initial British release A Shabby Dog Story as Xpresso – the experimental division of publishing monolith Fleetway – when the home of Judge Dredd, Buster and Roy of the Rovers sought to catch a pan-Atlantic wave of interest in comics for grown-ups.

The series readily toys with the internal consistency of storytelling: Canardo and other cast regulars have died several times, timescales are largely irrelevant, early tales have humans, anthropomorphic animals and regular critters cautiously coexisting side by side, science and magic happily co-mingle with the seedily traditional elements of sex, violence, depression and existential isolation and some of the players occasionally refer to themselves inhabiting a comics story.

As previously mentioned, in the earliest escapades the dowdy duck dick is little more than a disinterested spectator; an Éminence grise perfectly capable of shaping events and preventing tragedies but always unwilling to get involved unless there’s a direct benefit for him.

Here the focus is on shady nomad Ferdinand, a hooch-loving hobo pooch whose addiction to garbage brought him low and whose years of aimless peregrination have now brought him back to his hometown. Once an infamous bigwig and ruler of the roost amongst the skeevy bestial characters on the wrong side of the tracks, he’s now unrecognisable to the surviving patrons of Freddo’s Bar, but that’s okay.

All the down-and-out really cares about is seeing his adored Gilberte once more, but after he makes himself known in his traditional manner and hears she’s dead, Ferdinand regains some of his old fire and resolves to find out who killed her…

His anxious successor is Kartler, a blustering hound with a big bark but little bite, although he does have dangerous friends…

When thugs corner him our traumatised shabby dog is soon overwhelmed and left to die horribly, with Kartler’s accusation that Ferdinand was Gilberte’s killer ringing in his floppy, flea-bitten ears. Only as the dog is dying does former cop Inspector Canardo intervene, and only then because of the promise of scoring a stash of drugs…

The duck does offer a little info for nothing, revealing Gilberte had latterly lived with a human doctor named Calhoun after she stopped being Kartler’s main squeeze. Calhoun has a unique and unenviable reputation: a sadistic maniac operating on animals – especially dogs – turning them into mindless zombies for Kartler’s ever expanding army…

When desperate Ferdinand breaks into the surgeon’s compound he quickly discovers that’s the very least of the doctor’s many atrocities…

And back at the bar, against his better judgement a duck with an unslakable thirst breaks all his own rules and decides to get involved. After all, Canardo has known from the very start exactly how Gilberte died…

Stark, wry, bleak, outrageously amusing and almost Brechtian in its tone and execution of a demi-monde society, the saga of Carnardo is a powerful antidote to traditional adventure paladins and a supreme example of the antihero taken to its ultimate extreme. It’s also beguilingly lovely to look upon in a grim traffic accident, bunny-in-the-headlights manner.

Let’s hope some publisher with a little vision agrees…
Le Chien debout © 1981 Casterman. Translation © 1989 Cha Cha Comics. UK edition © 1991 Xpresso Books. All rights reserved.