One of the greatest perks of being this magazine’s cartoon editor (a position that, as you can imagine, also comes with a throne, ermine robes, and a diadem) has been getting to spend some time, here and there, with the magnificent George Booth. Booth, at ninety-five, is a force of good nature, with a guffaw that you can’t help but giggle along with, enough winkingly folksy advice to fill volumes, and a devotion to Scotch Tape as artistic material unparalleled by anyone, even Herr Scotch himself. To cast an eye on a Booth gag, even for the nearsighted, from a great distance, is to recognize instantly a wondrous, extremely particular world. Reviewing his more than five decades’ worth of contributions to The New Yorker (I had some catching up to do after my birth) means running smack into old friends: buffoons and scoundrels and scolds and scamps, of white and blue collars; cats and dogs of voluminous number; and grunting prehistoric cretins. Encountering a Booth cartoon is, in fact, like sinking into a warm bubble bath—and, of course, he draws plenty of those, too, with big, bulbous, Boothian bubbles.
On Thursday, at 6 P.M., I invite you to join me for an hour-long event honoring Booth with the cartoonists Mort Gerberg, Emily Flake, and Jeremy Nguyen, as part of the latest edition of The New Yorker Live, our virtual event series exclusively for subscribers. Following—lucky you—the digital première of “Drawing Life,” a short film by Nathan Fitch all about Booth and how he came to be the master gag-man we know and love, we’ll discuss Booth’s indelible mark on contemporary cartooning. (Not yet a subscriber but want to tune in? Let me propose a solution.) If all of this is making you want something Booth-y of your own, we are now offering a hoodie in The New Yorker Store, featuring one of his celebrated canines. (Please note that, for your Booth swag to arrive before Christmas, you should be sure to order it by December 10th, or November 24th for deliveries outside the U.S.) Until then, enjoy this sampling of Booth cartoons, and try to follow his mother’s most excellent advice: “Act like you know something, whether you do or not!”
Sourse: newyorker.com
