Nevin Martell, like just about everyone who ever read him, is a Calvin and Hobbes fan -- what's more, he discovered the strip at the right age and was able to appreciate it as only a child can -- without being self-conscious about reading a comic strip and with devotion. Years later, when trying to write something more meaningful to him than another book about a pop star, he decides to write about that strip and its reclusive creator.
The reclusive part of that sentence is the key -- Watterson had (and has) pretty much dropped off the face of the earth as far as your typical person is concerned. A few select friends, business acquaintances and family members can get in touch with him, but no one else can. This isn't crippling to a book about his comic strips or himself, but it sure hampers it (especially because those people who can get in touch with him are just about as reticent as he is to talk about him or his work). Unencumbered by access to Watterson himself, and his perspective on his life and career was like, what his influences were, what made him make the creative decisions, etc. Martell dove into research -- things written about and by Watterson, archives of his previous work (when and where available) and interviews with colleagues, editors and the like.
In the kind of detail only a scholar or a fan can appreciate, Martell describes Watteron's childhood, college, and pre-Calvin and Hobbes career; then he discusses that comic strip -- major themes -- and its publishing history; Watterson's battle to keep control of the strip, its merchandising/licensing; then he describes Watterson's retirement. As much of that as he can, which isn't much. Following that, Martell focuses on things like the impact of Watterson on the industry, his relationships with other cartoonists and is influence on those who followed.
I wish he'd given us more (and maybe he gave us all he could, but I don't think so) from Watterson's contemporaries/those he influenced in the field of comics (or related fields -- he spoke with a novelist and Dave Barry, too). Martell spoke to many and gave us a lot of what he was told -- but I'd have appreciated more coming from professionals about Watterson's strengths, technique, stories -- whatever. Sure, it might have gotten a little redundant, but something tells me that it wouldn't have been too bad. These were my favorite parts of the book, and I could've listened to another hour of them easily.
I'm not convinced that I was ever as invested in Martell's journey as he seemed to think his readers would (should?) be -- and I'm okay with that. I know I tend to overshare here a tad myself -- so I understand the impulse. Or maybe I'm just callous, and everyone else got into it.
As far as Arthur's work narrating -- there's not a lot to say. This isn't a work of fiction where he can play with characters, pacing, and whatnot. It's a straightforward text and he does a capable job of reading it in a straightforward manner. I did have to remind myself a couple of times that I was listening to someone Martell's words rather than listening to him -- which I guess is a good thing.
It was a pleasant book, nothing too challenging -- and it reinvigorated an impulse to go read a collection or two of Watterson again on my part (and some of Larson's The Far Side, too -- I'm sure there's an interesting book to be written there, too). It's not a must-read, but it'll scratch an itch for those who have an interest in the subject.