Secret of globularisation

Odd habits such as reading books footnote first (and, in some quarters, reading books) owe much to a Gaul called Asterix, a little fella who speaks what may be taken to be French. The importance of this, as his fans know, is that it's not Roman""though in 50 BC, as Rene Goscinny and Albert Uderzo explain at the start of every story in the comic series, the Romans had conquered all the land on the map. Except""use your magnifying glass""the little Gaulish village.

For Asterix fans habituated to a chuckle every other frame, this, the 33rd and latest comic book, Asterix and the Falling Sky, is a crash in itself. It doesn't seem to stir the humerus, tibia, dubya etcetera. Despite the effort, that is: the current-day allegory here is all too obvious. Tsk tsk, sniff critics, it's the result of Uderzo the cartoonist working alone, a nonagenarian now, having lost his script partner Goscinny in 1977.

So, like the boars and Gauls in the book's opening sequence, prepare to be paralysed funny bone downwards. An alien spaceship, a giant sphere of afflu... er, influence, has descended on the village, petrifying almost everybody stiff (mid-slugfest too, poor things). But""if, like Asterix, his obese buddy Obelix, his pet Dogmatix, and the bearded druid Getafix, you happen to escape paralysis, this book offers more than just a couple of chortles.

The aliens come from Tadsilweny (anagram of Walt Disney), part of a galaxy of 50 stars (now what might that be?). Out pops a purple Toon, ready to scour this old time-warped village for its "secret weapon" that terrifies the Romans so. Rushing his search along is Tadsilweny's cute little rivalry with Nagma (no musical allusion, just an anagram of Manga , the Japanese comics), a planet swarming with horny beatles and cyberats.

Toon has brought along Superclone who gets into an argument with Obelix over gravity defiance. "Fat chance," is the red-caped egoist's assessment of the flying abilities of the obese Gaul, who concedes the point by knocking Superclone skyhigh (footwear left duly on earth), for calling him fat, with a single blow of the Gaulish fist: powered no doubt by the druid's la potion magique (hush, tis secret).

From this highpoint onwards, the reader gets an aerial view of several punch-ups in random assortment, even as the alien spell recedes, letting the once-fixated villagers get promptly back to the satisfaction of their own slugfest. And letting the village bard Cacofonix get back to yodelling away (the Hays & Seeger tune "If I had a hammer"""and one promptly gets thrown in his face by Fulliautomatix the village smith).

"Back to normal," rejoice Getafix and Asterix.

That's premature articulation, it turns out. It's not over yet. There's some serious fantasy to come. Intrusive Romans must be thwacked vertically out of their earthly sandals. Flunky-elevated Vitalstatistix, the village chief, must topple over. Superclone, re-educated and rebriefed with lycra, must save Getafix. Asterix, heroic as ever, must win a grand reconciliation. And Toon must glug down enough potion to bloat into a blended-colour presence even bigger than his globular domain of influence... before all is well again, and the Gauls gather for a gala banquet. This is frame 44, with Getafix the cauldon-stirrer asking "Who knows, Asterix, who knows?" and Cacofonix the noisemaker left ungagged for a change.

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ASTERIX AND THE FALLING SKY

Albert Uderzo
Translated by Anthea Bell and Derek Hockridge
Orion Books
Price: Rs 350; Pages: 47